these voices won't leave me alone
Delphia rarely missed, but Leafchange had a way of bringing out her most human of traits.
It was the season dedicated to the dead after all, dedicated to remembering what was and who had been, and even she, bright and accepting as she was in the face of the inevitable journey to her father's realm, was not fully immune to wishing she could reach beyond the veil to see those she once knew if only for a time. Today, it was her mother she yearned for, and so it was in her honor that she would spend her time.
The shores on which she had been born and raised were too far to reach, and so instead she contented herself with the shores of the Stonesong. The Whispershore in particular was soothing as the whispers of the spirits intertwined with the whispering waters. "My sweet girl, when your heart is tempted to mourning, remember the things you did together, and enjoy them once more. Familiarity brings healing and peace." Her mother's words seemed to dance among the others, as if sent to her from Mort himself. It was in this way, by indulging in the things she had done with her mother, that she would honor her memory.
Donned in the priestesses ritual garb, flowing fabrics, ethereal and soft, she knelt on the shore. "Once a week we must cleanse our spirits, or they will grow heavy with the weight of the dead. Call upon your ancestors souls to protect you while you are most vulnerable to those which would do you harm." Circe's instructions whispered down from the beyond and she obeyed, reaching into her spiritual powers to call upon those around her. And as always they came, slow moving, but ebbing and flowing with familiarity and affection. Not the spirits of her ancestors perhaps, but those that had lived in harmony amongst her family for many generations. Soon, their whispers took the place of Circe's, their familiar hum soothing to the ache of her mourning.
"Rosemary and sage in the flame, to cleanse the lungs and blood. Cedar oil to the temple, to cleanse the etheric body of negativity. Ylang Ylang oil down the sternum, thanking the mother for the body she gave to hold your soul. Patchouli oil along the throat and lower back to settle the emotional body. Then tea tree and flowing water to wash away all that weighs on the mind, body, and soul."
The instructions were slow and from the corner of her eye she almost could make out her mother's form, following along her motions as she once had in life. She chanted low in the tongue Circe had taught her, prayers of thanks and love spoken for the woman Mort had chosen to bring her into this second life. First the small fire was lit, bundles of rosemary and sage releasing thick white clouds of cleansing smoke. Slowly to breathed it in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth even as the light breeze guided the smoke over her lithe frame. Guided by the spirits she alone could hear, she cast aside the flowing gown so as not to be hindered in her ritual. Cedar oil was pressed into her temples then run along her forehead. Ylang Ylang drawn in cleansing symbols from her collarbone down to her navel. Patchouli oil liberally smeared along her lower back and throat, soaking away her pain and sadness. Here she paused, allowing the ritual to do its work, already feeling the yearning she felt beginning to fade away. Only when the smoke began to thin as the fire burned out did she rise, wading into the cool flowing waters of the Stonesong, tea tree oil infused soap in hand. She lathered and scrubbed, sighing in relief as she felt the negative energy she had been collecting wash away down the stream, carried away so she might once again be light and whole.
"I am a foolish girl still, mother, to have forgotten this valuable lesson." she said softly both to herself and to those spirits she had gathered.
It was the season dedicated to the dead after all, dedicated to remembering what was and who had been, and even she, bright and accepting as she was in the face of the inevitable journey to her father's realm, was not fully immune to wishing she could reach beyond the veil to see those she once knew if only for a time. Today, it was her mother she yearned for, and so it was in her honor that she would spend her time.
The shores on which she had been born and raised were too far to reach, and so instead she contented herself with the shores of the Stonesong. The Whispershore in particular was soothing as the whispers of the spirits intertwined with the whispering waters. "My sweet girl, when your heart is tempted to mourning, remember the things you did together, and enjoy them once more. Familiarity brings healing and peace." Her mother's words seemed to dance among the others, as if sent to her from Mort himself. It was in this way, by indulging in the things she had done with her mother, that she would honor her memory.
Donned in the priestesses ritual garb, flowing fabrics, ethereal and soft, she knelt on the shore. "Once a week we must cleanse our spirits, or they will grow heavy with the weight of the dead. Call upon your ancestors souls to protect you while you are most vulnerable to those which would do you harm." Circe's instructions whispered down from the beyond and she obeyed, reaching into her spiritual powers to call upon those around her. And as always they came, slow moving, but ebbing and flowing with familiarity and affection. Not the spirits of her ancestors perhaps, but those that had lived in harmony amongst her family for many generations. Soon, their whispers took the place of Circe's, their familiar hum soothing to the ache of her mourning.
"Rosemary and sage in the flame, to cleanse the lungs and blood. Cedar oil to the temple, to cleanse the etheric body of negativity. Ylang Ylang oil down the sternum, thanking the mother for the body she gave to hold your soul. Patchouli oil along the throat and lower back to settle the emotional body. Then tea tree and flowing water to wash away all that weighs on the mind, body, and soul."
The instructions were slow and from the corner of her eye she almost could make out her mother's form, following along her motions as she once had in life. She chanted low in the tongue Circe had taught her, prayers of thanks and love spoken for the woman Mort had chosen to bring her into this second life. First the small fire was lit, bundles of rosemary and sage releasing thick white clouds of cleansing smoke. Slowly to breathed it in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth even as the light breeze guided the smoke over her lithe frame. Guided by the spirits she alone could hear, she cast aside the flowing gown so as not to be hindered in her ritual. Cedar oil was pressed into her temples then run along her forehead. Ylang Ylang drawn in cleansing symbols from her collarbone down to her navel. Patchouli oil liberally smeared along her lower back and throat, soaking away her pain and sadness. Here she paused, allowing the ritual to do its work, already feeling the yearning she felt beginning to fade away. Only when the smoke began to thin as the fire burned out did she rise, wading into the cool flowing waters of the Stonesong, tea tree oil infused soap in hand. She lathered and scrubbed, sighing in relief as she felt the negative energy she had been collecting wash away down the stream, carried away so she might once again be light and whole.
"I am a foolish girl still, mother, to have forgotten this valuable lesson." she said softly both to herself and to those spirits she had gathered.
DELPHIA
