ext_36126 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
lslaw.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writing_shadows2013-04-25 03:13 pm
lslaw.livejournal.com) wrote in writing_shadows2013-04-25 03:13 pm
Entry tags:
[Awakening] - Initiation
It was 10:58 when the drugs really kicked in; the lead up time was slightly longer than they had expected, but then I have always had a deceptively sturdy constitution. I am not a physical creature on my sister's level, but I have climbed mountains and crossed deserts and any amount of expensive equipment will only get you so far in such a situation. They probably should have taken that into account and upped the dosage a little; not too much, however, as what I have is enough to leave me giggling uncontrollably as they race through the initial rituals of the initiation and hurry me into the Mithraeum, which is hardly the look I would have wished for.
"For I am a humble postulant in the temple of knowledge, and I approach the holiest of holies with an open heart, a receptive mind, as high as a kite and cackling like an ape." I honestly can not recall if I actually said that last part. I hope not.
I am admitted to the Mithraeum at 11:32 and instructed to meditate and gather Mana. There's something in the air which interacts with the drugs and I can feel the power of the Hallow beneath my feet. I meditate and make oblation by translating the writing above the door into three different languages and scratching it into the stone floor with the knife they gave me.
They gave me a knife. How foolhardy was that? It's amazing I didn't disembowel the Hierophant by mistake.
At midnight, they let the bull come in. It's big. I realise that a part of me assumed that this part of the process was a symbolic act, so they'd send in some tottering calf, alive enough to make the point but not actually capable of crushing me into the sand of the Mithraeum floor. I realise also that no part of me was prepared for the scale and power of the animal in front of me. Maybe the drugs are in part responsible, but I swear that it is at least as tall as me, and the ground shakes when it walks.
It comes at me at once, bred or enchanted to extreme aggression. Ordinarily it would be scraping me off its hooves in a heartbeat, but the drugs suddenly sharpen my mind and it is, besides, too small for the bull to manoeuvre properly in the Mithraeum. I step through space as it comes and appear behind it, cutting with the knife. It's not a deep cut, but blood flows down its left, hind leg. That's the Scorpion; I have three cuts left.
It turns too fast and I get in a second strike as its horns tangle in the chains of a censer; a slash to the ribs, the Snake.
The next is the worst. I let it charge again, tripping on the braziers and smashing into the wall, then dart in to cut deep under the right foreleg. The Hound. It's a nice cut, if I say so myself, but I've been too confident and it rounds faster than I expected, catching me under the ribs with its head and the back of its horn; at least - I think as I fly through the air and tumble across the floor - it wasn't the points.
I'm in a lot of pain now, but fortunately its slowing down and only catches me a grazing blow with the next charge. It's like getting delicately tagged with a dinner fork tied to the front of a Land Rover. It moves in as I fall and tries to trample me, but I reach through space again and I'm on its back, clinging for dear life and trying to find the courage to let go with my knife hand and strike the final blow. It takes long enough that I'm getting exhausted just from holding on; probably at least ten seconds. My knife goes home, slicing into the carotid artery and spraying blood across the room.
As I am thrown down by the creature's death throes, I can feel the power pulsing from it, filling the room with hot, iron scent and the touch of magic. It's a gory and pointed reminder; Knowledge is power, and Knowledge has a price.
"For I am a humble postulant in the temple of knowledge, and I approach the holiest of holies with an open heart, a receptive mind, as high as a kite and cackling like an ape." I honestly can not recall if I actually said that last part. I hope not.
I am admitted to the Mithraeum at 11:32 and instructed to meditate and gather Mana. There's something in the air which interacts with the drugs and I can feel the power of the Hallow beneath my feet. I meditate and make oblation by translating the writing above the door into three different languages and scratching it into the stone floor with the knife they gave me.
They gave me a knife. How foolhardy was that? It's amazing I didn't disembowel the Hierophant by mistake.
At midnight, they let the bull come in. It's big. I realise that a part of me assumed that this part of the process was a symbolic act, so they'd send in some tottering calf, alive enough to make the point but not actually capable of crushing me into the sand of the Mithraeum floor. I realise also that no part of me was prepared for the scale and power of the animal in front of me. Maybe the drugs are in part responsible, but I swear that it is at least as tall as me, and the ground shakes when it walks.
It comes at me at once, bred or enchanted to extreme aggression. Ordinarily it would be scraping me off its hooves in a heartbeat, but the drugs suddenly sharpen my mind and it is, besides, too small for the bull to manoeuvre properly in the Mithraeum. I step through space as it comes and appear behind it, cutting with the knife. It's not a deep cut, but blood flows down its left, hind leg. That's the Scorpion; I have three cuts left.
It turns too fast and I get in a second strike as its horns tangle in the chains of a censer; a slash to the ribs, the Snake.
The next is the worst. I let it charge again, tripping on the braziers and smashing into the wall, then dart in to cut deep under the right foreleg. The Hound. It's a nice cut, if I say so myself, but I've been too confident and it rounds faster than I expected, catching me under the ribs with its head and the back of its horn; at least - I think as I fly through the air and tumble across the floor - it wasn't the points.
I'm in a lot of pain now, but fortunately its slowing down and only catches me a grazing blow with the next charge. It's like getting delicately tagged with a dinner fork tied to the front of a Land Rover. It moves in as I fall and tries to trample me, but I reach through space again and I'm on its back, clinging for dear life and trying to find the courage to let go with my knife hand and strike the final blow. It takes long enough that I'm getting exhausted just from holding on; probably at least ten seconds. My knife goes home, slicing into the carotid artery and spraying blood across the room.
As I am thrown down by the creature's death throes, I can feel the power pulsing from it, filling the room with hot, iron scent and the touch of magic. It's a gory and pointed reminder; Knowledge is power, and Knowledge has a price.
no subject