A fic update! Ye gods!
Dec. 7th, 2003 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessIt's been an age since I last updated. I'm getting withdrawls, see I'm shaking! Though that could indicate my caffein supply is running low.
I blame my workload... hmmm... that'll work? Oh and the b/f who comaplins of my hermitdom and is dragging me out to clubs and keeping me up all night and forcing me to ogle pretty boys dancing and to flirt with near strangers. He's a terrible scourge and must be stopped. Yes. Will that hold water?
No?
Ok, I'll stick to the work excuse.
Anyway, Spark in darkness update, with everything going wrong (naturellement) and another bloody cliffhanger - I will resolve this, I will!
We sat Darren down in one of the treble circles chalked onto the ground (and you have no idea how long the old shaman went on about the chalk being refined coloured children’s chalk. He wanted to engrave it on the floor, yeah, like that’s going to happen. Darren’d go spare if we pulled apart the room and ruined his decor).
It was real tense, the power in the room was growing, not all big and flashy like Darren, but quite but strong. Like the sea on a calm day. I don’t know, but I think it felt bigger, more well, more something because it was quiet. Maybe, anyway. Maybe it was just the pressure of all the spirits not quite doing anything yet. Maybe it was because it was my power, power I understood rather than Darren’s that made it feel so large. Maybe it was because I was worried about what I’m about to do and really don’t want to screw up.
Or maybe I’m just over-thinking the fucking thing and stalling so I don’t have to do it.
I traced the paste of herbs into runes on my forehead and bare chest, using the mirror to make sure I got them right. Yeah I know, you see shamans on the television able to draw this really intricate body paint freehand and easy. Well, you try it, it’s not as if a paste of weird herbs is particularly easy to draw with either, shit it takes hours to get the constancy right anyway or it just falls of in chunks or runs off like water. We had to add cornflour to this one and I’m not at all sure what that’ll do. So I’ll stick to the mirror thank you; anyway it still takes ages with lots of rubbing out and correcting. It's far more fun to do this with chocolate sauce with Darren, believe me. But then I’m betting you don’t need much convincing right?
The old guy’s already lit half the candles and the incense (but he left the air fresheners alone, I don’t think he approves. He nearly had a fit when I used dried herbs from Wal-Mart). Alright I get the hint, get a move on. These Camaalis guys are hard.
No putting it off now. I sat in the treble circle opposite Darren, trying to control my breathing. How bad would it be inside his mind? Could I even bring him back? What would I see? Did I really want to see it?
Shit, I really didn‘t.
The old man started to chant, only slightly put off by the MP3 player next to him. He was catching on. I stared into Darren’s eyes. They were empty, vacant. Still beautiful, still those deep dark pools. But nothing lurked in the bottom of them anymore, no unimaginable horrors and awesome wonders sparkles from their depths. They were empty. Darren wasn’t there.
I reached into that vacant space, holding out my... well not hands, consciousness? Will? Fuck, I don’t know, go ask some crystal waver, they'll give you a name. Whatever it was I reached it out to the spirits to hold and guide. They knew where to take me, which was a lot more than I did.
I pulled away from my body, could almost feel myself peel out of my skin, like pulling out of some really old comfortable clothes and standing naked in public, but times ten or something. It was extreme, really terrifying and vulnerable but amazingly liberating too.
I had about five seconds to look round the room. This was seriously weird. I’ve always had spirit senses, hey, I ma a shaman! And I can make them go into overload when I want to (but I don’t because it tends to give you one fucker of a headache and besides most of the time I don't want to see what’s there with my own eyes, let alone super senses), but this was the next frontier. Was this what spirits saw all the time? I'd have to check with Ghost on that one, assuming he’ll give me an answer anyway. I could see not only the spiritual echo of everything, not even just the spiritual echo of what it represents or its weird psychic connections; I could see the echo, the reflection of everything to had been and in some weird way, would be. All its possibilities, differences, potentials and hidden secrets laid out in symbolic, astral and almost metaphorical ways. The table was a table. It was also the spirit of a table. It was also some wood, some paint, several kinds of metals, some alloys, all mixed together with their spirits. It was the elements that made up of all of these. It was a tree long dormant but still holding onto its spiritual heart, still pulsing with spiritual sap, reaching for the Sun it could no longer feel. It was order and slavery. It was destruction and creation. It was a tool, it was part of mankind. It was craft, it was design. It was strength and death and growth. It was the forest, unyielding determination, ages of wisdom, and terrible sadness. It was all these things and more, all seen in just a bare few seconds glimpse. It was incredible.
I pulled my eyes away from the swirling possibilities of the mundane objects all around me, and was nearly dazzled as the old Shaman passed my eyes. The possibilities were a thousand fold, he was a living thing, an intelligent thing, a being of magic and to crown it all, a shaman as well. He was so much worse than the table, or was that better? I really couldn’t even begin to understand at this point, my brain was too squeezed flat and smashed all over by serious sensory overload. I just rolled with it, way past thinking at this point. I don’t know if it was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me or the worst torture I could imagine. I think it might have been both. All I know is it was seriously extreme.
Something pushed against me, moving my stunned... body? Spirit? Soul? Shit, see that New Age encyclopaedia again, I don’t have the vocabulary for this out of body crap; moving me way, towards Darren. I rolled real slow round to see him.
And panicked. Utterly, completely panicked. There weren’t a hundred possibilities this way,. or maybe there were, and I just didn't want to see them, maybe my mind shut down or something. All I saw was darkness, not your, night-time darkness, not your down at the bottom of a cave with your eyes shut darkness, not your depth of space darkness ort even the darkness found in some of the less than pleasant and majorly weird astral realms. No, this stuff was serious darkness. The kind of darkness that ate the light. The kind of darkness that could hide the Sun at noon. This was the real stuff, primordial terror, the great unknown, and the depths of all creatures rolled into one. It was inside Darren, it was part of him. It was him! I hate shit like this; I hate it when the Camaalis guys are proved right.
I couldn’t push away! I was being pulled into it, pushed towards it, two massive forces I couldn’t fight even if I did know how. Fuck! I was going to be eaten by the darkness! It was a trick, this Camaalis guy was going to kill me! I was going to die in Darren’s power! Oh shit...
What’s happening?! Bastard! It’ll kill him!
I was fighting like mad now. If I had a body I’d be tearing myself apart. There was no way! I’d never done this before! I don’t even know if I have any weapons while I’m like this, never mind how to use them! Oh, fuck!
You can’t do this! Rick! Hold on you idiot, just hang in there! That’s it old man, you’re going down
Wait, was there something..? Did I just see something in the darkness? I couldn't see, it hurt to look...
Damn you! He won’t die like this! He won’t di- zzzzzzzzzzzttttttt
There! A light! Fuck, I don’t know how, but there’s a light! Buried in the darkness! How it can survive?! No time for questions. I can barely move like this, but I strain to pull myself into that one spark, that one chance of survival in the hungry darkness. That one chance...
The world swam with blinding light and impenetrable darkness. Everything blurred.... and was gone.
I blame my workload... hmmm... that'll work? Oh and the b/f who comaplins of my hermitdom and is dragging me out to clubs and keeping me up all night and forcing me to ogle pretty boys dancing and to flirt with near strangers. He's a terrible scourge and must be stopped. Yes. Will that hold water?
No?
Ok, I'll stick to the work excuse.
Anyway, Spark in darkness update, with everything going wrong (naturellement) and another bloody cliffhanger - I will resolve this, I will!
We sat Darren down in one of the treble circles chalked onto the ground (and you have no idea how long the old shaman went on about the chalk being refined coloured children’s chalk. He wanted to engrave it on the floor, yeah, like that’s going to happen. Darren’d go spare if we pulled apart the room and ruined his decor).
It was real tense, the power in the room was growing, not all big and flashy like Darren, but quite but strong. Like the sea on a calm day. I don’t know, but I think it felt bigger, more well, more something because it was quiet. Maybe, anyway. Maybe it was just the pressure of all the spirits not quite doing anything yet. Maybe it was because it was my power, power I understood rather than Darren’s that made it feel so large. Maybe it was because I was worried about what I’m about to do and really don’t want to screw up.
Or maybe I’m just over-thinking the fucking thing and stalling so I don’t have to do it.
I traced the paste of herbs into runes on my forehead and bare chest, using the mirror to make sure I got them right. Yeah I know, you see shamans on the television able to draw this really intricate body paint freehand and easy. Well, you try it, it’s not as if a paste of weird herbs is particularly easy to draw with either, shit it takes hours to get the constancy right anyway or it just falls of in chunks or runs off like water. We had to add cornflour to this one and I’m not at all sure what that’ll do. So I’ll stick to the mirror thank you; anyway it still takes ages with lots of rubbing out and correcting. It's far more fun to do this with chocolate sauce with Darren, believe me. But then I’m betting you don’t need much convincing right?
The old guy’s already lit half the candles and the incense (but he left the air fresheners alone, I don’t think he approves. He nearly had a fit when I used dried herbs from Wal-Mart). Alright I get the hint, get a move on. These Camaalis guys are hard.
No putting it off now. I sat in the treble circle opposite Darren, trying to control my breathing. How bad would it be inside his mind? Could I even bring him back? What would I see? Did I really want to see it?
Shit, I really didn‘t.
The old man started to chant, only slightly put off by the MP3 player next to him. He was catching on. I stared into Darren’s eyes. They were empty, vacant. Still beautiful, still those deep dark pools. But nothing lurked in the bottom of them anymore, no unimaginable horrors and awesome wonders sparkles from their depths. They were empty. Darren wasn’t there.
I reached into that vacant space, holding out my... well not hands, consciousness? Will? Fuck, I don’t know, go ask some crystal waver, they'll give you a name. Whatever it was I reached it out to the spirits to hold and guide. They knew where to take me, which was a lot more than I did.
I pulled away from my body, could almost feel myself peel out of my skin, like pulling out of some really old comfortable clothes and standing naked in public, but times ten or something. It was extreme, really terrifying and vulnerable but amazingly liberating too.
I had about five seconds to look round the room. This was seriously weird. I’ve always had spirit senses, hey, I ma a shaman! And I can make them go into overload when I want to (but I don’t because it tends to give you one fucker of a headache and besides most of the time I don't want to see what’s there with my own eyes, let alone super senses), but this was the next frontier. Was this what spirits saw all the time? I'd have to check with Ghost on that one, assuming he’ll give me an answer anyway. I could see not only the spiritual echo of everything, not even just the spiritual echo of what it represents or its weird psychic connections; I could see the echo, the reflection of everything to had been and in some weird way, would be. All its possibilities, differences, potentials and hidden secrets laid out in symbolic, astral and almost metaphorical ways. The table was a table. It was also the spirit of a table. It was also some wood, some paint, several kinds of metals, some alloys, all mixed together with their spirits. It was the elements that made up of all of these. It was a tree long dormant but still holding onto its spiritual heart, still pulsing with spiritual sap, reaching for the Sun it could no longer feel. It was order and slavery. It was destruction and creation. It was a tool, it was part of mankind. It was craft, it was design. It was strength and death and growth. It was the forest, unyielding determination, ages of wisdom, and terrible sadness. It was all these things and more, all seen in just a bare few seconds glimpse. It was incredible.
I pulled my eyes away from the swirling possibilities of the mundane objects all around me, and was nearly dazzled as the old Shaman passed my eyes. The possibilities were a thousand fold, he was a living thing, an intelligent thing, a being of magic and to crown it all, a shaman as well. He was so much worse than the table, or was that better? I really couldn’t even begin to understand at this point, my brain was too squeezed flat and smashed all over by serious sensory overload. I just rolled with it, way past thinking at this point. I don’t know if it was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me or the worst torture I could imagine. I think it might have been both. All I know is it was seriously extreme.
Something pushed against me, moving my stunned... body? Spirit? Soul? Shit, see that New Age encyclopaedia again, I don’t have the vocabulary for this out of body crap; moving me way, towards Darren. I rolled real slow round to see him.
And panicked. Utterly, completely panicked. There weren’t a hundred possibilities this way,. or maybe there were, and I just didn't want to see them, maybe my mind shut down or something. All I saw was darkness, not your, night-time darkness, not your down at the bottom of a cave with your eyes shut darkness, not your depth of space darkness ort even the darkness found in some of the less than pleasant and majorly weird astral realms. No, this stuff was serious darkness. The kind of darkness that ate the light. The kind of darkness that could hide the Sun at noon. This was the real stuff, primordial terror, the great unknown, and the depths of all creatures rolled into one. It was inside Darren, it was part of him. It was him! I hate shit like this; I hate it when the Camaalis guys are proved right.
I couldn’t push away! I was being pulled into it, pushed towards it, two massive forces I couldn’t fight even if I did know how. Fuck! I was going to be eaten by the darkness! It was a trick, this Camaalis guy was going to kill me! I was going to die in Darren’s power! Oh shit...
What’s happening?! Bastard! It’ll kill him!
I was fighting like mad now. If I had a body I’d be tearing myself apart. There was no way! I’d never done this before! I don’t even know if I have any weapons while I’m like this, never mind how to use them! Oh, fuck!
You can’t do this! Rick! Hold on you idiot, just hang in there! That’s it old man, you’re going down
Wait, was there something..? Did I just see something in the darkness? I couldn't see, it hurt to look...
Damn you! He won’t die like this! He won’t di- zzzzzzzzzzzttttttt
There! A light! Fuck, I don’t know how, but there’s a light! Buried in the darkness! How it can survive?! No time for questions. I can barely move like this, but I strain to pull myself into that one spark, that one chance of survival in the hungry darkness. That one chance...
The world swam with blinding light and impenetrable darkness. Everything blurred.... and was gone.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-07 11:13 pm (UTC)No he promises he will dedicate all his efforts to motivation. I am worried enough not to ask for details.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-08 12:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-12-08 08:36 am (UTC)