Days had become weeks, had weeks become months or years? The Garridan's bonny hadn't a clue, and she long ago lost care to know. The journey she'd set herself upon was long overdue as it was necessary.
A witch's sabbatical, a magical recharge; a trip back to Goddess and Country for a lesson in just what makes a woman who she is, and why.
'Le' the moon an sunligh' be m'riches' trappin's, an' the wind's passin' touch m'only lover.'
Pale skin a glow beneath the ripe, swollen edge of the moon. Unruly, kinked coils of hair struck crimson and gold, fired from within, like the bright coals of a kindled hearthside. A botticellian creature kissed to life, a buxom figure of La Primavera cast to haunt through the endless roils of the Rhydinian forests. All her imperfections, bared as they were, perfect. Lilliana had set off, letting her body act as a cast away adrift in the sway of wild magic found in only the deepest hearts of nature. Nature brought power, power drew her closer to the Goddess; mother and reaper of all things. Bare feet made barely a sound despite the crinkled carpet of forest debris beneath her tireless toes, leaving behind only a smoky, curious ink in her step.
The evils and taints of man and modernity were seeping from her slowly.
'May the stars crown 'n jewel m'hair as the earth welcome's i's daugh'er home af'er so long ago a visi'...'
The journey was visceral, corporeal, earthly, and grueling all in the same whirl. Though lead from within, it was her body that suffered the strain of trekking so far. As the ominous darkness leeched from her feet with each step, soon, after a substantial spell of days, did the first creaks of blood.
Raindrops that fell only landed in a hover, splashing and beading along some unseen shield, forming an ethereal halo about her fire struck form. Oh how those falling waters yearned to travel those ripe, round curves; to uncover all their gypsy secrets, but only their brother wind was allowed to do so. It was the wind's touches teasing the witch, guiding her deeper into the enlightening abandon she so desperately sought.
Lilli was oblivious to all, besotted by the growing flame deep in her breast. Molten struck eyes became their otherworldly stain of rose glass, shimmering as though some ancient cathedral's halls were struck gold from the glory of it's worshippers. Dark whispers that'd haunted her had long fallen away, given and tucked, saved for a rainy day.
'M'sorry Goddess, m'so sorry... I's been too long.'
Arms began to rise as the witch found the end of her journey; a great stone reliquary in the hallowed, female form. The heart of a mountain tipped at it's peak, surrounded and forgotten long ago by some previous primals no doubt.
Lilliana's magic was old, and it's ancient fingers reached ever deep through time and it's endless stream of devout pagans. As the witch had said to the late Summer Queen of the Shining Court; she and the slender creature of her terrible beauty shared the same Goddess-Queen. The Maker and her consort, The Shining One and her horned god, The All-Mother born of a triple soul.
Sister to the Fates, Mate of Father Time and Mother to her multitude of faithful. Goddess, plain and simple for all her endless, Ouroboros nature.
'Take yer daugh'er back, All Mother... Welcome her home an' birth her a'new.'
The blackness that'd melted from her along the journey had left her heart empty of pain, exchanging the poison that'd wrung her soul for the physical pain of tired, bloodied feet. Cheeks touched with the sink of a body who'd consumed nothing for near a month on end, limbs trembling with sleeplessness and swollen, overused muscles. Chapped lips, malnourishment, faint touches of death followed her body, yet Lilliana would never look more glorious than she did now.
Her Goddess was answering, and all the world's breath, even the rain... It all stood still for a single, spell bound moment. Timeless, soul stealing and beautiful. Man had fallen to it's knees for lesser moments of beauty such as this. The sun rose as the gypsy witch fell to her soft, tired knees in the grassy knoll before that eldritch figure of Goddess and power. As the first peek of sunlight crested to spill over the forested mountainside, an unseen hand fell to the fire struck woman's bowed head; ghostly warm fingertips gave the sensation of trickling, hot and fire-white, but comforting.
Lilliana rose, the sensation of vertigo overtaking her so fiercely she felt as though the world had melted to nothing, and she floated in the ether. The world between worlds was her home now as her body filtered through itself; rebuilding, renourishing, rejuvenating, restoring what had been stolen from her.
She would not see the ascent of a thousand fireflies from the lingering darkness, nor the creeping spill of trumpet vines that crowned the reliquary statue before her. Darkness that roiled within her was now much apart of her, it's excess long left behind in footprints that now burst into poppy blossoms that sprang and curled upwards to greet the sunrise. Naked and coronal as she was, the witch made a picture there upon nature's mighty mountainside dais, a picture only found in fairy tales or in the truest experiences of Magic.
'I live...'
Magic reborn, rose window hues sentient and alive with an uncurled smile across her dapple cheeks, Lilliana began her long, long descent back to the city of Rhydin. She'd been away too long, but now that the clouds had been cast asunder and her glory rekindled, it was time.
Time to play.
A witch's sabbatical, a magical recharge; a trip back to Goddess and Country for a lesson in just what makes a woman who she is, and why.
'Le' the moon an sunligh' be m'riches' trappin's, an' the wind's passin' touch m'only lover.'
Pale skin a glow beneath the ripe, swollen edge of the moon. Unruly, kinked coils of hair struck crimson and gold, fired from within, like the bright coals of a kindled hearthside. A botticellian creature kissed to life, a buxom figure of La Primavera cast to haunt through the endless roils of the Rhydinian forests. All her imperfections, bared as they were, perfect. Lilliana had set off, letting her body act as a cast away adrift in the sway of wild magic found in only the deepest hearts of nature. Nature brought power, power drew her closer to the Goddess; mother and reaper of all things. Bare feet made barely a sound despite the crinkled carpet of forest debris beneath her tireless toes, leaving behind only a smoky, curious ink in her step.
The evils and taints of man and modernity were seeping from her slowly.
'May the stars crown 'n jewel m'hair as the earth welcome's i's daugh'er home af'er so long ago a visi'...'
The journey was visceral, corporeal, earthly, and grueling all in the same whirl. Though lead from within, it was her body that suffered the strain of trekking so far. As the ominous darkness leeched from her feet with each step, soon, after a substantial spell of days, did the first creaks of blood.
Raindrops that fell only landed in a hover, splashing and beading along some unseen shield, forming an ethereal halo about her fire struck form. Oh how those falling waters yearned to travel those ripe, round curves; to uncover all their gypsy secrets, but only their brother wind was allowed to do so. It was the wind's touches teasing the witch, guiding her deeper into the enlightening abandon she so desperately sought.
Lilli was oblivious to all, besotted by the growing flame deep in her breast. Molten struck eyes became their otherworldly stain of rose glass, shimmering as though some ancient cathedral's halls were struck gold from the glory of it's worshippers. Dark whispers that'd haunted her had long fallen away, given and tucked, saved for a rainy day.
'M'sorry Goddess, m'so sorry... I's been too long.'
Arms began to rise as the witch found the end of her journey; a great stone reliquary in the hallowed, female form. The heart of a mountain tipped at it's peak, surrounded and forgotten long ago by some previous primals no doubt.
Lilliana's magic was old, and it's ancient fingers reached ever deep through time and it's endless stream of devout pagans. As the witch had said to the late Summer Queen of the Shining Court; she and the slender creature of her terrible beauty shared the same Goddess-Queen. The Maker and her consort, The Shining One and her horned god, The All-Mother born of a triple soul.
Sister to the Fates, Mate of Father Time and Mother to her multitude of faithful. Goddess, plain and simple for all her endless, Ouroboros nature.
'Take yer daugh'er back, All Mother... Welcome her home an' birth her a'new.'
The blackness that'd melted from her along the journey had left her heart empty of pain, exchanging the poison that'd wrung her soul for the physical pain of tired, bloodied feet. Cheeks touched with the sink of a body who'd consumed nothing for near a month on end, limbs trembling with sleeplessness and swollen, overused muscles. Chapped lips, malnourishment, faint touches of death followed her body, yet Lilliana would never look more glorious than she did now.
Her Goddess was answering, and all the world's breath, even the rain... It all stood still for a single, spell bound moment. Timeless, soul stealing and beautiful. Man had fallen to it's knees for lesser moments of beauty such as this. The sun rose as the gypsy witch fell to her soft, tired knees in the grassy knoll before that eldritch figure of Goddess and power. As the first peek of sunlight crested to spill over the forested mountainside, an unseen hand fell to the fire struck woman's bowed head; ghostly warm fingertips gave the sensation of trickling, hot and fire-white, but comforting.
Lilliana rose, the sensation of vertigo overtaking her so fiercely she felt as though the world had melted to nothing, and she floated in the ether. The world between worlds was her home now as her body filtered through itself; rebuilding, renourishing, rejuvenating, restoring what had been stolen from her.
She would not see the ascent of a thousand fireflies from the lingering darkness, nor the creeping spill of trumpet vines that crowned the reliquary statue before her. Darkness that roiled within her was now much apart of her, it's excess long left behind in footprints that now burst into poppy blossoms that sprang and curled upwards to greet the sunrise. Naked and coronal as she was, the witch made a picture there upon nature's mighty mountainside dais, a picture only found in fairy tales or in the truest experiences of Magic.
'I live...'
Magic reborn, rose window hues sentient and alive with an uncurled smile across her dapple cheeks, Lilliana began her long, long descent back to the city of Rhydin. She'd been away too long, but now that the clouds had been cast asunder and her glory rekindled, it was time.
Time to play.