[the caern - forums]

The second part of the moot.
Revering the totem spirit. 

(helena)
Silence reigns as the Inner Sky begins, and the Caller of the Wyld, Helena, steps forward. She is in Homid, the form she was born to, and dressed in a long white piece of linen wrapped around her slender body and pinned in various ways to make it stay, leaving her arms bare. A knotted cord of what looks to be wool circles her waist, and a golden armlet circles each of her upper arms. Her long black hair is loose and flows down her back. She pauses for a moment, and then begins to speak, her voice strident in the night.

<I>"We have gathered in this sacred place of Gaia, Mother of all, and now having called our brothers and sisters of Gaia, we now call our brothers and sisters of Luna."</i>

She faces towards the east, raising her hands slightly, palms facing the sky.

<I>"<B>East Wind!</B> Bringer of the dawn of clear air! You who showed us the mirror side, the other side of the Velvet Curtain, come to us! We thank you for your clear thought and bright light!"</i>

Now she turns to her right, to the South, and speaks again in the same manner.

<I>"<B>South Wind!</B> Bringer of the eternal fire! You who gave us the fire of Rage within, that we strike swiftly against our enemies, come to us! We thank you for your fiery anger and your protection!"</i>

Once again she turns to her right, this time to the West.

<I>"<B>West Wind!</B> Bringer of the rain! You who gave us the Changing Ways, come to us! We thank you for the many shapes you've shared with us!"</i>

She turns to her right, to the North.

<I>"<B>North Wind!</B> Bringer of cold from the mountains! You who brought us the Gifts and the Sacred Ways, come to us! We thank you for your wisdom and your strength!"</i>

Now she raises her hands above her, palms facing up, her dark eyes lifting to the sky as she speaks.

<I>"<B>Inner Wind!</B> Bringer of blessings from Gaia from within us! You who hold our Mother's power, come to us all! We thank you for your spirit and your peace!"</i>

With hands still raised, she looks around, her voice ringing out through the crowd.

<I>"<B>Spirits of our brothers and sisters!</B> Sacred patrons of our packs! We call to the cunning ones - Ferret and his brood! We call to the wise ones - Crow, Roadrunner, and Twister! We call to the warriors - Raptor, Eagle, Weasel, and Unicorn's Shadow! We call to those who are respected - Merlin and his brood! We call to those whose names are found in secret! Come to us! We thank you for your care and aid in times of trouble! We praise your bravery and courage!"</i>

She then turns towards the Heart of the Caern, holding out her arms towards it as she speaks again.

<I>"<B>Maelstorm!</B> Strength in adversity! You who teach us to sacrifice for the good of She Who Wears the Night Sky, come to us! We thank you for your wisdom and your strength of purpose!</I>

<I>Accept our thanks and praise of your names, great spirits in service of Ge, who birthed heaven and the sea and all there is! This is the respect we show to you! This is the gratitude we have for you!"</i>

(binary)
<B>Ahu.</B>

<I>The void of space.</i>

And for a moment for a singular second, a millisecond no more. There is that startling silence. That vacancy of <B>before </B>when one may imagine the spirits may not come - not THIS time. Of course there are the faithful, those that believe in the blind benevolence of enigmatic umbral providence - there are those who do not KNOW and in their ignorance are blissful. Ignorant of this - silence - fractional as it may be. The Wyld is called, but will it answer? 

And indeed there will be time - time for you and time for me.
...time for the taking of toast and tea --

This is the moment when the metallic edges [under-the-skin] of furred pelt bristles, raises. [ <I>We love you, we need you, we honor you..</i>] and yet it has always been a question. The woman is as still as stone. Monolith. Will you help? Not an assumption. Not a point of fact to be taken for granted even in this infinitsimally small space of a second.

Time do wonder "Do I dare" <I>and</i> "Do I dare?"
Time to turn and descend the stair....

That second, that breath, that moment is an eternity. Always. Always. Always. It is the crux of what it means to fight a <B>losing</B> battle. It is the distant hope of victory. Believe. To hover on that brink, legs crouched, heart beating, lower-lower-lower [ ....<I>Will you catch me?</i>.... ] before the leap forward. And in that end would it even matter as we thrust fleshly bodies forward into the maws of war? The chasm is yawning open below - a maelstrom.

<B>Do - I - Dare?</B>

...disturb the universe - In a minute there will be decisions
which a minute will reverse. 

[<I>Given-wings-on-which-to-fly. </i>] And then the rush of wind. That familiar spiritual presence of strength. These are not our toys, our powers, our possessions. They are our allies. There is that familiar rush, o similiar to the ecstacy of devotee with the rewards of a miracle. They are here. And Binary's head is bowed at the awe of it, after fifteen years and it could always bring her to her knees. This moment. They are here....

They have come.

<B>For now. </B>