Beltane

[truailligh]

Who: truailligh ; open
What: Celebrating Bealltainn*
Where: Plaza near the gardens
When: May 1st, after nightfall
Note: * Scottish Gaelic spelling of Beltane

Comments

[truailligh]

There's a lump that crawls up her throat that she will dismiss as the smoke and not on this confusing mess that's sitting there right down in her bones. Seeing Cassandra had made her realise how much she missed having someone who knew everything about her, the good and the bad and who just accepted it. It was probably why it had been so easy for it to convince Shirley to sleep without violence after all. She was always tired. Death never stopped even if it didn't last here and she bit down hard on her bottom lip as her hands came up to smooth through soft fur.

When the feelings hit, she has to look at the fires instead of anything else, taking the time to organise her thoughts which is fiendishly hard when she's still upset and homesick and fed up of this endless city.

It's the first day of summer where I come from. Not that it matters much in Scotland but that means something for you, doesn't it? Her hands don't stop and this is really the only reason she would ever entertain the notion of having a pet because it's soothing and calming and she knows that this is different but some things will still apply. It's good to see you though.

Which has a 'thank you' sort of feeling tacked onto it as well.

[inked_tale]

The goddess lays there, eyes half-mast as she claws her fingers through the heavy ruff around her neck. She says nothing, does not cast judgment, does not rebuke her or try to comfort her, she simply lets the child - a poor, cursed, tragic girl - have the company of an unassuming presence. That motherly presence cloaks her, hugging her, sinking into her bones and to that pain.

She does not have to surrender her pain to the hands of the Sun Goddess, but the offer is there for her to choose. A furry muzzle nudges kindly at her wrist as she pets.

[truailligh]

And eventually, a few tears make their way out as the Otherworld self falls silent in the presence of Amaterasu. It's a parasite that feeds on hurt and pain and loneliness and grief, all the things Shirley is trying to banish for as long as she can so she can keep moving forward and it's not easy but it's nice to finally have that quiet. She doesn't know if the vengeance child was capable of cancelling out the entity but the blood on her hands...hers, yes but what the hell had she done for those days? Her head is a confused tangle that loops back on itself, faces and voices and things from home that only make sense to her and she'd be lying to herself if she didn't half hope that someone familiar would pop up from between the fires.

It isn't anything personal but her wards live on her wrists and she's always faintly terrified that something will happen to damage one of them, leaving her unprotected until her sluggish healing kicks in, mending the damage to the mark and so she brings her hand down instead, avoiding whiskers. The last wolf she petted sneezed all over her when she touched them.

[inked_tale]

But pushing away the loneliness and pain doesn't starve that Otherworld self, though. It only condenses them, sweeps them into a corner where they lay there, ferment, and become a richer meal for the specter latter down the line. The only way to truly dispel the agony is to face it and let it expend itself. The borrowed grief and pain needed an outlet, or else her banshee self would just continue to feed.

In Amaterasu's benevolent, loving presence, those tears are not judged. Cry all you need, child. There is nobody to see.

[truailligh]

The problem here is that Shirley can't face that. She likes to think that she's the master of her own life and her destiny and that everything she does results from her own actions. Her life is carefully constructed so that she appears to control it all when so much of it is out of her hands. It all lies in the hands of those that die and those that grieve and her Goddess and the trio of aspects.

Sometimes, I almost wish I'd been born normal. Still me but without that part of me. There always has to be a balance in all things but this seems like it's stacked so high...

She drops right down and sorry Amaterasu but she's going to cry against you now seeing as she doesn't have Cassandra or Cedric or Blair to cry to or even her father or another banshee in Otherworld.