Walpurgisnacht {lani&lionel 96th victory tour}

There was an offering to be made, a white flag from our kind. A promise from the land that we only came with pure intentions in our heart, welcoming the newest victor home back to the ground he had sprung from. The night before Lionel was to make his appearance in the district square, the coven had gathered together joining each other by the hands in the dimly lit dark night. Candles with an essence of ashwagandha to help purify what we could only expect to be a stressed soul. A simple tune humming from the mouths of the elders, in my corner I stood unable to speak. A curse I bore for talking too much, mouth bonded shut, unable to even join my sisters in a the most sacred of rituals.

The silent scribe.

I feared the day my mouth would be sewed shut for good, never to be able to sing the song of praise again. Aching fingers wrapped around an oak wood fountain pen, dark ink dripping from the tip and little black splashes forming on the old parchment. Time after time, I wrote down the words sung by coven with few candles lit around me in protection. An honor some have contemplated murder for, one I would have committed murder to get out of. In all of the ceremonies, our ritual was still closed even to the one in who’s name we whished to be saved.

Cowards to not include the victor in his own ritual, committed to the community to never let an outsider in. A rule I had broken time and times again, with no consideration as to why the rule was there in the first place. Between haunting voices and penetrative smells of burnt herbs, I had decided for myself to break another rule once more.

Tomorrow I would bring the new victor an offering in person.

The line to meet the newest owner blood tainted crown was too large for a boy I had not thought to be all to impressive. The understanding of the ordeal did not falter in my mind, however the subject itself was far from spectacular…maybe a spectacular mess.

A beige woven basket hung from my right, silk satchels inside from the blessing’s cabinet in our family home. My mother and sister trusted enough to store the gifts brough upon us by mother nature herself, ones that could only aid in our understanding of the world. They opened up dimensions in a chemically induced nature, allowing us to speak to the ones who came before us. Only a select few allowed to ever indulge in such inquisition, bringing back answers for all of us to revel in and for me to write down…just as I have written down everything before.

Never once had I smoked the herbs myself, but I had inscribed the pipes we used in the practice. Symbols asking for a fruitful blessing, different ones for different occasions. I had engraved a special one, painted in the light red almost pink tone to represent the district. His name and a blessing of tranquility and guidance in cryptic symbols meant only for a scribe to understand.

When it came to my turn in the long line, I had promised myself to approach him in a humble manner, still representing the coven in my gifts, representing my own sense of rebellion in my actions. I carried myself in good posture, with a gentle smile of good intentions as I held out the basket gracefully before speaking a word.

“Congratulations, Mr. Estrada” my voice hoarse, my own vocal cords shaking after months of silence. “A gift from our coven, I am certain you could do with a few answers to help understand the earth’s intention. I can’t impose all to long, but I do hope you find the gift helpful.” There was fear mixed in with my bravery, conflicting on both ends of the spectrum. Afraid my voice would have been heard by those who had wished for my silence. Still brave enough to share something so sacred in the hope it was what mother earth would have wanted.