Ficlet: Tribute | DCU | Zatanna | PG | 1/1
Title: Tribute
Fandom: DCU
Character: Zatanna
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: Ritual; For the 2011 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge: Spell, Chant, Ritual; For bradygirl_12's 2011 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge: Pumpkin, Bell, Candles, Ritual, Incense, Mists; For comment_fic: DCU, Zatanna, a different kind of magic
Summary: This is no ordinary spellwork.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Originally posted here. Assumes Zatanna's magick has a spiritual side. Inspired by a real-life Samhain ritual.
Tribute
Settling down on the cushion on the floor of her darkened sitting room, Zatanna smoothed out her long skirt around her, slowly and deliberately, clearing her mind as she did so. Centered, she reached out with her third eye, opened her senses to the unseen world, and extended her aura down into the Earth, drawing the life force of the Lady Herself up into her body, until her every nerve ending tingled with the magick of Nature.
Eyes open, she focused on the candles on the low altar before her, one pillar for each quarter, each element, each direction, and lit them each in turn with only a thought and a whisper, ancient Anglo-Saxon passing her lips as easily as her mundane spellwork. Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and finally, Spirit, the central candle coming to life brighter and hotter than the others. Another tight focus of thought, another passage whispered, and Zatanna called the magickal circle into being, a shield to protect her, to safeguard her work, in which she resided between the worlds of the mundane and the magickal, between the realms of the living and the dead, between the planes of the physical and the spiritual.
A flicker of thought and borrowed flame of the Spirit candle brought incense of sage, sweetgrass, patchouli, and dragon’s blood to swirl in the air around her in curling tendrils, the candlelight casting shadows throughout the room, and with a simple chant, she called the Lady and the Lord, the Moon and the Sun, and the Great Divine of the Universe to watch over her working. Their presence filled her, her head growing hazy with light and love and magick, and immediately Zatanna began her spell.
This was no ordinary spell. Her ingredients gathered on the altar, a cup of heavy cream, a dish of honey, and a small bottle of whiskey, she set to pouring some of each of the liquid ingredients into two baby pumpkins, both cut open and hollowed out to serve as bowls. Another chant crossed her lips, quiet and reverent, simple and rhyming, even in its archaic tongue, and in just moments the dishes were prepared, an offering to the Ancient Ones, to Those Who Have Gone Before, to Those Who Have Passed, to the Unseen and the Unknown, in gratitude and homage and hope for the future.
Cupping the dishes in her hands, she blessed them with the essence of her magick, her personal life force, her core being, asking the Great Divine to lend its power to the spell. Light and love filled her anew, her skin tingling again with the magick she’d called, and her chant grew to a crescendo with it, topping out when she released the spell into the universe.
At the end of the chant, Zatanna carefully lifted a tiny silver bell from her altar and rang it three times, the working done. And satisfied, she whispered her thankfulness to the Great Divine, the Lord and Lady, Spirit, and the four quarters, bidding them each farewell in turn and drawing open the circle of protection as she snuffed the candles with a thought.
In the dark, she rose from her cushion and took the pumpkins outside, to the edge of the woods behind her home. Another chant of blessing, and she left them each on a flat patch of ground, the spaces consecrated ahead of time for her annual offering.
The mists of the night enveloped her there, sweet with the aroma of autumn decay carried on the cool breeze, and as she released her borrowed energies back into the Earth, grounded at last, Zatanna smiled. Her Samhain ritual was complete, the Elders given their tribute.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Character: Zatanna
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: Ritual; For the 2011 DCU Free For All Autumn Challenge: Spell, Chant, Ritual; For bradygirl_12's 2011 DCU Fic/Art Halloween Challenge: Pumpkin, Bell, Candles, Ritual, Incense, Mists; For comment_fic: DCU, Zatanna, a different kind of magic
Summary: This is no ordinary spellwork.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Originally posted here. Assumes Zatanna's magick has a spiritual side. Inspired by a real-life Samhain ritual.
Tribute
Settling down on the cushion on the floor of her darkened sitting room, Zatanna smoothed out her long skirt around her, slowly and deliberately, clearing her mind as she did so. Centered, she reached out with her third eye, opened her senses to the unseen world, and extended her aura down into the Earth, drawing the life force of the Lady Herself up into her body, until her every nerve ending tingled with the magick of Nature.
Eyes open, she focused on the candles on the low altar before her, one pillar for each quarter, each element, each direction, and lit them each in turn with only a thought and a whisper, ancient Anglo-Saxon passing her lips as easily as her mundane spellwork. Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and finally, Spirit, the central candle coming to life brighter and hotter than the others. Another tight focus of thought, another passage whispered, and Zatanna called the magickal circle into being, a shield to protect her, to safeguard her work, in which she resided between the worlds of the mundane and the magickal, between the realms of the living and the dead, between the planes of the physical and the spiritual.
A flicker of thought and borrowed flame of the Spirit candle brought incense of sage, sweetgrass, patchouli, and dragon’s blood to swirl in the air around her in curling tendrils, the candlelight casting shadows throughout the room, and with a simple chant, she called the Lady and the Lord, the Moon and the Sun, and the Great Divine of the Universe to watch over her working. Their presence filled her, her head growing hazy with light and love and magick, and immediately Zatanna began her spell.
This was no ordinary spell. Her ingredients gathered on the altar, a cup of heavy cream, a dish of honey, and a small bottle of whiskey, she set to pouring some of each of the liquid ingredients into two baby pumpkins, both cut open and hollowed out to serve as bowls. Another chant crossed her lips, quiet and reverent, simple and rhyming, even in its archaic tongue, and in just moments the dishes were prepared, an offering to the Ancient Ones, to Those Who Have Gone Before, to Those Who Have Passed, to the Unseen and the Unknown, in gratitude and homage and hope for the future.
Cupping the dishes in her hands, she blessed them with the essence of her magick, her personal life force, her core being, asking the Great Divine to lend its power to the spell. Light and love filled her anew, her skin tingling again with the magick she’d called, and her chant grew to a crescendo with it, topping out when she released the spell into the universe.
At the end of the chant, Zatanna carefully lifted a tiny silver bell from her altar and rang it three times, the working done. And satisfied, she whispered her thankfulness to the Great Divine, the Lord and Lady, Spirit, and the four quarters, bidding them each farewell in turn and drawing open the circle of protection as she snuffed the candles with a thought.
In the dark, she rose from her cushion and took the pumpkins outside, to the edge of the woods behind her home. Another chant of blessing, and she left them each on a flat patch of ground, the spaces consecrated ahead of time for her annual offering.
The mists of the night enveloped her there, sweet with the aroma of autumn decay carried on the cool breeze, and as she released her borrowed energies back into the Earth, grounded at last, Zatanna smiled. Her Samhain ritual was complete, the Elders given their tribute.
~*~*~*~