[M] how do eagles fly?

Backdated to Nov 1st

POSTED: Tue Dec 03, 2019 6:44 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

the colours last for hours

Still warm blood began to flow over the male’s fingers as he carefully sliced the pelt of the dead fox in his lap open. Rós had made an unusually tidy kill, allowing him to use one of her talon marks as the beginning of his cut. Tonight was Samhain, the beginning of winter and a celebration of all that the Morrigan had allowed him to build and gather during the previous years. Unfortunately, he would have a bit less progress to give thanks for this year, but that was no obstacle to his faith. Shamus was certain that the great goddess would gift him the power to make his own fate and allow him to find a home and family worthy of his hard work and sacrifice.

Glancing at the small wooden statue of Morrigan that served as his idol tonight, he hoped his sacrifice would be pleasing to her. The statue, almost a foot tall and carved of elm, was that of a powerful Luperci woman, sword at her hip and golden eagle on her shoulder. He had been careful to make sure her proud, regal features gave off an air of power even in this much-reduced form. Four eagle feathers rested below her feet, three of which had been taken from his hair. Rós had reluctantly provided the fourth, and a few drops of blood could still be seen where she had yanked it from her wing.

Those feathers, along with the meat of the fox he had now fully removed the pelt from would be burnt before the idol, the smoke carrying the essence of the objects off to the goddess. If all went well, the extra fuel all of her followers' offerings gave her would allow her to easily beat back the creeping tides of hunger and despair for another year.

Finally, the fox was gutted, the best slices of meat set before the statue along with the heart and lungs, hopefully providing an extra boost of energy. Turning to his bird as she sat grumbling on a nearby stump, he gently chided her, "Come now, you know that we must all make sacrifices for the Morrigan, and your feather will please her greatly." Settling the carcass before his companion, he continued. "You will eat first tonight, my friend. Relish in your victory."

Moving back towards his idol, he bowed low before it and spoke in a deep, respectful murmur as he gathered up the feathers and food, his brogue thick and choked with emotion as he did. "My queen, please accept my offerings and my deepest reverence for your mighty form and powerful arm." Turning smoothly, still in a crouched position, he set the feathers and meat in the fire to burn, adding the heart and lungs last. Ignoring how his hands ached with the heat he had just exposed them too, Shamus softly whispered, almost to low to be heard over the crackle of the fire, "I hope you are pleased my queen, and will not begrudge me success this year."

Swiftly turning away to join Rós in her meal, he hoped desperately that the Morrigan would not mind his brief impertinence in asking her for a boon.

Backdated to Nov 1st, this is Shamus celebrating Samhain in his own awkward way. Marked M just in case! | [wc — 534] template by hilli
Shamus Lochlan
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