in tenebris est veritas.
The thunder rolls again: a distant, futile objection to what some might consider a desecration. It chills Chaele’s spine, but Wessex’s cautious interest is a small comfort. The shaman peers through one of the stag skull’s monocular eye holes, meeting the general’s gaze for the first time. A gentle bend of relief can be seen in her brow, punctuated by an appraising pause.
“Ritual magic,” is the short answer. As she speaks, she lowers the hunting knife to the limp wing and begins to slice the membrane away from the bone. Sticky, stagnant blood stains the edges of the filmy flesh, which is not as malleable as Chaele might have guessed. “Fae integuments, hair and nails, are said to have protective qualities. Bones and entrails are always good for divination rites. Not to mention, a heart of the slain is a rare ingredient in...” A beat passes, a hesitation reeling the final word back and exchanging it for another. “...spells.”
Resolving to roll the wing into a bundle, she glances to the other items at her side. She cannot describe their use, nor does she have any reason other than bare, crude instinct to think that they are of any value. With a sigh, she turns toward Wessex and Loki. “Maybe you can help me bury her, soon. I do not exactly have the means.”
“Ritual magic,” is the short answer. As she speaks, she lowers the hunting knife to the limp wing and begins to slice the membrane away from the bone. Sticky, stagnant blood stains the edges of the filmy flesh, which is not as malleable as Chaele might have guessed. “Fae integuments, hair and nails, are said to have protective qualities. Bones and entrails are always good for divination rites. Not to mention, a heart of the slain is a rare ingredient in...” A beat passes, a hesitation reeling the final word back and exchanging it for another. “...spells.”
Resolving to roll the wing into a bundle, she glances to the other items at her side. She cannot describe their use, nor does she have any reason other than bare, crude instinct to think that they are of any value. With a sigh, she turns toward Wessex and Loki. “Maybe you can help me bury her, soon. I do not exactly have the means.”
