the first step was to enter her sacred sanctuary. the priestess pinched her fingers to her left, more on familiar instinct than anything else, and withdrew them upwards as a candle burned to life underneath them. she didn't quite need its light, but the routine had stayed with her since her raising at the temple of whispers in ennën'dor. today she disturbed a cat as she drifted into the room. twin pairs of golden eyes reflected back at each other in the near-darkness.
reaching to her right, she picked up an old gnarled branch of a broom from its resting place and began to sweep, clearing the mess that had gathered since she had prayed the evening before. her gaze lifted from the cat and swept upward, settling upon the Statue on the altar as she brought the broomstick back towards herself, humming an old worship tune. what a lovely statue it was.
it was a dark marble, riddled with white as if it were spattered with stars. a taller, veiled Lady stands, Her hands bearing a scale and a written scroll. nothing of Her face could be seen, nor anything of Her body, the veil covering all. underneath the folds of Her skirts, safe and protected by the Maiden of Stars and Her revelations of balance and secrets, mortal beings reach for higher heights.
this statue often gave her pause. it was her favorite, and the only one she could afford to move to this city with her when she came. still, she felt a pull to it and needed it for her altar. it was her anchor, her center, her core. it was the statue that instilled her with the most fervor for her Goddess. she set the broom aside, having swept and contemplated, and set to the ritual.
the mood of the ritual. it had to be a certain way, one of gentle warmth and sweetness for the Mother of Plots. after all, secrets are best shared over tea, over a saccharine treasure, or some other way of preparing the listener to hear all the matters of the day. it was Her favorite way of receiving prayer, or so she'd been told at the temple by savintos. he knew a lot of Her favorite blessings, a lot of Her favorite rituals, all whispered to him by his mentors, and their mentors before them. so she studied dutifully underneath him, applied herself. this, she was sure, was the way prayer had been done for hundreds of years.
but today, she had a new mixture. orange zest and sweet sugar and a woodsy herb she'd foraged from the forest roots, harvested while whispering the praises of her Goddess for speaking the secret of such a gift to Her humble priestess in her dreams. carefully, her crimson-stained fingers set to work, placing the incense within the hold of the burner before swiping against each other in a snap to catch alight. it did not take long for her to set the incense to burn, a scarlet ember burning before her eyes.
with the scent coming to life and likely luring Her attentions, the priestess set about her next task: unrolling a spool of golden thread around the poles. she pulled the thread from the spool slowly, letting it pool at her feet, before setting to work. first, the thread came around in a wide circle, before shifting to the center pole. she ran it around, before looping the thread around so that it would pull at the circle she had just spun. this continues slowly, carefully, as she weaves a web of shimmers underneath her fingertips.
o, Weaver of Dreams, o Balanced Scale of Secrets, she spoke gently, in this hallowed space, as You guide Destiny, bringing one secret into information, information into purpose, purpose into action, and action into experience, so too do these hands work in Your service to guide and bring others into betterment by Your word and design. the design became more complicated, curling into a mandala as her hands make light of the familiar ritual work. Your humble servant weaves a net to catch all of Your Endless Whispers. i lift the act as worship upon You, Spinner of Fate. i have faith our prayers today will be as enlightening as ever, and our service in search of our growth ever continued. thank you for seeing me and bettering me, my Lady of Shadow. i will forever be pledged to Your dutiful goals.
then she began to whisper the plans, the tangled myriad of threads as she wove them on her ritual loom, worked quietly while the cat curled up on the altar and stared with sharp golden gaze upon the display and continued to grow. each plan, each thread had the potential of a knot, and with the assistance of her Goddess, the priestess would smooth each out: talking over each problem slowly, explaining every context of the issue at hand to the Moonlit Mistress, and considering a whispered viewpoint from the shadows. together, they spun the thread into fabric, pattern, and design, and paved a way from present to future.
once she had spoken the prayer for others, however, she prayed for herself. the pattern continued to grow. she told her Goddess the latest news from her family, spoke of their current comings and goings. what she had gotten them. when they had come home last. her hopes, dreams for them. her trusted confidant, her Madame of Masks, would hear all, even these secrets that only mattered to one fiercely beating heart. together they prayed for their well-keeping, for Fate to weave on their side until there was no more praying to be done. the priestess sat, a bundle of golden thread in her hand, and took a moment to rest her voice before moving to the next part of the ritual.
before her, she spun a golden piece of expression, simple in execution but careful in technique. she was no artful grandmaster, but her piece was at least earnest. if nothing else, there was an effort made to please the Goddess. she sat there, eyeing it carefully. perhaps it was not her best work. she had done worse. she was at least satisfied with what she had done in Her name this day.
now it was time to ask a question of her ancestors and divine the meaning of the tarot deck. she drew the cards from a stack in front of her, carefully arranged under crystals and mushrooms that simulated moonlight, then shuffled them in her hands. what do i need to know today? drawing from the top of the deck, she pulled a man, suspended from the gallows by his ankle but with both arms behind his back and a careful solemnity to his face. a shining light flashed behind his head, and she studied him. she knew him well. to wait around for something to happen, the hanged man.
the cat brushed into her hand, batting at the dangling thread in her hand. she lifted the card higher, out of the way, and she couldn't help but laugh as she toyed along with the beast. what an odd message you have for me, she hummed, stroking down its back. you have even sent a messenger of the trickster to our humble home.
she paid a moment's more notice to the hanged man, then set him back into the deck and stood, pulling at the thread coalescing around her palm. she pulled the thread up and up, hauling it overhand as if she were reeling in the fishing line. slowly her creation came undone, and her holy secret-sharing space came to pieces. the thread was set in place for the next prayer session, the chalk script on the floor refreshed. the cat drifted out, and she blew out the candles before she stared a moment longer at Her statue in the darkness.
from this angle, She seemed to be a champion against the night, standing proud amidst stars and fire to forge her own path. the priestess had decided long ago that she would follow that Goddess anywhere, even into nothingness; so it was time to do so, even now. she turned then, departing from her shrine to the Divine to descend into the realm of the mortal once more.
this is like never going to get rp'ed out but i wanted to write a little bit about her ritual and what she does for her daily process so yeah jazz hands void worship is cool join odella's cult today >:3c
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