Morgana kept on talking, avoiding offered exits into comfortable reclusiveness. Talking to Oceanus about things she had kept hidden so long had something therapeuthic about it, and though Morganas face had something somber about it, she could not deny it felt cleansing.
"It's like I told you, I have always been drawn to magic. Felt a yearning, a longing about it, I'd have taken any risk for just a glimpse of cosmic truth. That's how I'd word it now, but back then it was a fun game to me. And my sister. A game of pretend. We'd gobble that stuff right up, talking day and night about nothing else, making up magic words, swinging around neat looking branches like wands and sewing silly hats."
Morgana motioned to her own hat, giving this unsubtle tribute to bad taste a sudden, much heavier meaning.
"Then we read about something called "the font of Avernus". It was on some TOR-based website, and was deleted very soon afterwards. Appearantly there were certain places all over the world, where cracks in the ground run all the way to the center of the world. Every couple hundred years or so, these cracks spilled out black mist, a nebulous substance of prophetic attributes. Appearantly whomever breathed that stuff in would become a wizard with powers beyond mortal understanding. It sounds like some sort of horrible fanfiction, I know. But the page had hundreds of literature sources and images and depictions of basicaly...all great wizards in history, from Medea and Circe to Gerald-Fitzgerald and Morgan le fey and Merlin all the way to Theodor Reuss and Rasputin. Pointing at small details in pictures to deciphering metaphors and all that. And we ate it all up. From there on we called eachother "Witches of the black mist", and spent...a considerabel amount of energy and time into locating these cracks, and the time of their rousing. Well...we found one of those..."
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Topic: The Occult Hobby - IC Chapter 1: The witch of the bloody hill (Read 80202 times)