While the faeries dance in a place apart... {Open}

[Jarilo]

She materialized out of the sylvan shadows as if she were made of them.

At night, her blue skin seemed even more unnatural than it already was. Something more apt to those bereft of life, perhaps, and made even stranger by the fine, spiderweb network of white, bio-luminescent tracery that could be seen on any exposed stretch of skin—and which was, in fact, present all over her body. As she came to standstill, the root-like dreadlocks that she called hair floated to their own stillness almost weightlessly behind her, despite their bulk. Though, they did nothing to hide either the antlers that sprouted from the top of her head, or the white-furred goat ears that were located where more normal ears should be.

She was dressed practically, in form-fitting leather and cotton—an ensemble fit for any travelling archer and musician—but she was barefoot. Barely perceptible in the dark of the night, a raven sat on her shoulder, aloof and nestled atop the leather strap that held her quiver and her bow in place on her back, just left of her rucksack. She carried her wood flute in hand, just as she almost always did, and her runes clicked softly against each other in the velvet pouch that carried them, held securely at her hip by a leather belt.

A road cut its path before her like a pale serpent, gleaming soft under the gentle, early moonlight, fighting its way through the primordial wilderness that was her home, Dheathain, with stubborn naivete. Statuesque in her momentary stillness, she shut her steely eyes for a moment, listening to the alien sounds of the forest around and behind her, and she smiled. But there was no softness in this smile. Rather, like ice cracking rock, it was merciless and irrefutable. And then, the moment passed and she opened her eyes again, padding gracefully upon the road before her, following the serpentine curve of it forwards—ever forwards—until her runes led her somewhere else.

The raven shook himself suddenly, and a raspy caw escaped its ebony beak to shatter the stifling silence.

Smirking, she reached up to run a couple fingers down the sleek, inky plumage of its chest. “Complainer,” she sang to him in a whisper, “Just because I wouldn’t let you eat those berries… which any fledgeling worth his feathers would have immediately recognized as poisonous, I might add...”

The raven shifted indignantly on his perch and did not bother with a reply. She wouldn’t have listened anyway, even if he did. She was more preoccupied by the darkling beauty of her surroundings, and by the invigorating chill in the air. Indeed, in a sudden fit of merriment, she placed her flute on her chin—just below her lips—and began to play a haunting, nameless melody in the forest’s honor. Like so many times before, her own music filled her—ardent as a lover—and her body could not help but to respond.

Her dancing was a force of nature—a feline stalking its prey, a snake coiling into itself, a stag fighting for its mate. It was graceful and bestial and timeless.

Her dancing dislodged her raven from his perch, and he fell in just behind her, his beady black eyes focused on the forest around her, as her lookout.

~*~

Eventually, though, her dancing feet carried her to the edge of a large clearing. She stopped, panting, to look upon it while her raven reclaimed his perch.

Black as the night sky it reflected, she could clearly see a lake glittering resplendently in the moonlight, not too far off from where she currently stood. It took up most of the clearing, in fact, nestled as it was among the ghostly reeds and creeping mist. She imagined that it was some fishing hole, most likely, or a quaint spot for weary travelers to take some rest. Certainly, it would give her the chance to catch her breath while she performed a casting for herself.

“Wotan,” she called her raven by name, as she started walking towards the lake.

The raven responded by taking off once more in search of a good place. He landed a few moments later on a rock that was far enough from the road to keep their casting concealed, and yet far enough from the lake so that the water’s natural energies wouldn’t interfere over much. When Jarilo caught up, she kneeled beside his new perch and focused herself.

After a pause, she began...

She drew the first rune and placed it upside down on the ground towards the right. Othila: home. In this position, it meant her past. Upside down, it was a reminder of those that ridiculed her, and the warning that failure to take a calculated risk would be costly.

She drew a second rune and placed it face up on the ground in front of herself. Ansuz. Her rune: the rune of wisdom, and of communication. The message. In this position, it represented who she was in the present. Face up, it spoke of the importance of both knowledge and truth.

She drew a third rune and placed it face up on the ground towards the left. Pertho: the empty cup. In this position, it represented the future. Face up meant that it spoke of the potential of all things, and the necessity of personal choice.

She drew a fourth rune and placed it face up below the second rune. Sowilo: victory and discovery. The energy of the sun. In this position, it was the Foundation. Face up, it spoke of the underlying reasons for her choice to become caitiff, and the reasons that drove her still. She wanted to learn about herself, and she wanted to see where the runes would take her.

She drew a fifth rune and placed it upside down just above the second rune. Ehwaz: the horse. The rune of speed and momentum. In this position, it was the Challenge. Upside down meant that she was being cautioned to resist lethargy, regression, and muddled thinking.

She drew one last rune and placed it face up above the fifth rune. Dagaz: the breakthrough. It was the rune of dawn, the transformation of night into day. In this position, it was the Outcome. Face up, it told her that she was on the right path. It told her that she was being guided towards change, and that she only needed to stay humble and thankful for what was to come.

Startling her, Wotan cawed, expressing his opinion on the runes’ message.

“Hush,” she chided him, “The runes are always vague, but the message was on that I needed to hear regardless.”