Recollect 2
In the eerie twilight held by Myrna began the tales of the lives gone by that set the wheel of history in inevitable motion. She spoke as if lost in another life and her age became immediately visible as her tales recounted centuries past.
"Close your eyes Aideen. Close them and conjure in the darkness a night lit by blazing fires. Make before yourself images of people divine and semi-divine in frenzied motion; intoxicated by wine and lost in mirth. Now see in their midst a golden throne strung with wreaths of ivy and rose. See the velvet that lines the back and the rubies embbed eternaly on the arms. Now, seated there is the immortal, the god of wine and erotic love. He wears naught but a red silken cloth wrapped loosely round his waist. His body ripples with the vitality of the perfect divine. His eyes swim in the heady fragrances and the potency of his wine is almost visibly radiating from his lithe body. His delight in the nymphs that dart round him is almost palpable but so is his delight in the youthful men who wait upon his feet. He drinks in their beauty all equaly as he sips his wine from golden cups.
She sways before him. She sways to the rythmns he being clothed only by translucent white robes. In her fair hands she holds a garland of red roses heady with fragrance. Her waist is girdled with gold and rubies strung on golden chains bind her hair. She walks as the river meanders, swaying as her hips curve to the limits; over to him. Their eyes lock, this mortal and that immortal as she garlands him letting her fingers brush lightly his smooth, lean chest. He shudders with erotic delight and she gazes with triumph as the fruits of her rituals are to be fulfilled.
This is the mother of our lineage. This is she who gave birth to the daughters of our clan. This is the fountain of your blood. Desiring great power over the men who once dominated her, she performed the most rigorous austerities and sought the seed of an immortal that her offspring may be semi-divine; that her offspring may avenge her injustice.
None was the more pleased that the god of wine to grant this desire and that night the consummation mortal and immortal gave to her the daughter who would carry on a secret lineage embedded in the old ways.
Then married to the King of the clan then called Manus and having borne him one son already, this her second born recieved the rights of the princess of the clan and she grew to amazing stature composed of beauty unearthly.
Together, mother and daughter practiced the old ways and by the energies generated they recieved complete control of the clan but did this in mild undercurrents.
Let me tell you of Manus. His was an arrogant nature. He held his sceptre in the grip of greed coupled with an anger that none understood. He conquered all the lands to the east then proceed northwards to extend his realm. At his side ever was Nolan the first born. And both shared in bloody conquest and thirsted for dominion. The Mother of the lineage and her Daugther called Niamh had similar desires. They sought power of the earthly realms; but it was a power that would let the old ways flourish; a power that would unite the people of all directions in the Worship of the Goddess of the Night. Though not afraid of blood, their strategy was somewhat different.
While battles raged in the vallies between the north and south, they cast the enchantment spell that bound the prince of the north in thristy love for Niamh. This Mel when confronted finally on the third night of the battle by the beauty that was Niamh, fell at her feet and promised peace should they be married. She granted his wish on the condition that he should that very night follow her through passages secret and kill while they slept, her father and brother.
'Twas done. The two were married and the north and south became one united under the rule of Mel and Niamh whose half immortal lustre maintained the control of her husband and allowed peace through out the realm. The worship of the goddess of the NIght continued but still secretly for the powers generated were thought to be still too potent for the masses. Till rituals were created for the common man, the ones practised by Niamh and her circle of attendents would remain secret.
As each generation progressed, a subsquent half of the immortal was lost. Each daughter became less able to channel the enregies of the rituals and the tricks of retaining the rite of power to the daughter and not the son became more and more challenging.
I was born with but a tiny portion of the immortal such that I cannot even travel alone to the oracle...Aingeal here must help me..........
to be continued - have class now - that sooo sucks!
In the eerie twilight held by Myrna began the tales of the lives gone by that set the wheel of history in inevitable motion. She spoke as if lost in another life and her age became immediately visible as her tales recounted centuries past.
"Close your eyes Aideen. Close them and conjure in the darkness a night lit by blazing fires. Make before yourself images of people divine and semi-divine in frenzied motion; intoxicated by wine and lost in mirth. Now see in their midst a golden throne strung with wreaths of ivy and rose. See the velvet that lines the back and the rubies embbed eternaly on the arms. Now, seated there is the immortal, the god of wine and erotic love. He wears naught but a red silken cloth wrapped loosely round his waist. His body ripples with the vitality of the perfect divine. His eyes swim in the heady fragrances and the potency of his wine is almost visibly radiating from his lithe body. His delight in the nymphs that dart round him is almost palpable but so is his delight in the youthful men who wait upon his feet. He drinks in their beauty all equaly as he sips his wine from golden cups.
She sways before him. She sways to the rythmns he being clothed only by translucent white robes. In her fair hands she holds a garland of red roses heady with fragrance. Her waist is girdled with gold and rubies strung on golden chains bind her hair. She walks as the river meanders, swaying as her hips curve to the limits; over to him. Their eyes lock, this mortal and that immortal as she garlands him letting her fingers brush lightly his smooth, lean chest. He shudders with erotic delight and she gazes with triumph as the fruits of her rituals are to be fulfilled.
This is the mother of our lineage. This is she who gave birth to the daughters of our clan. This is the fountain of your blood. Desiring great power over the men who once dominated her, she performed the most rigorous austerities and sought the seed of an immortal that her offspring may be semi-divine; that her offspring may avenge her injustice.
None was the more pleased that the god of wine to grant this desire and that night the consummation mortal and immortal gave to her the daughter who would carry on a secret lineage embedded in the old ways.
Then married to the King of the clan then called Manus and having borne him one son already, this her second born recieved the rights of the princess of the clan and she grew to amazing stature composed of beauty unearthly.
Together, mother and daughter practiced the old ways and by the energies generated they recieved complete control of the clan but did this in mild undercurrents.
Let me tell you of Manus. His was an arrogant nature. He held his sceptre in the grip of greed coupled with an anger that none understood. He conquered all the lands to the east then proceed northwards to extend his realm. At his side ever was Nolan the first born. And both shared in bloody conquest and thirsted for dominion. The Mother of the lineage and her Daugther called Niamh had similar desires. They sought power of the earthly realms; but it was a power that would let the old ways flourish; a power that would unite the people of all directions in the Worship of the Goddess of the Night. Though not afraid of blood, their strategy was somewhat different.
While battles raged in the vallies between the north and south, they cast the enchantment spell that bound the prince of the north in thristy love for Niamh. This Mel when confronted finally on the third night of the battle by the beauty that was Niamh, fell at her feet and promised peace should they be married. She granted his wish on the condition that he should that very night follow her through passages secret and kill while they slept, her father and brother.
'Twas done. The two were married and the north and south became one united under the rule of Mel and Niamh whose half immortal lustre maintained the control of her husband and allowed peace through out the realm. The worship of the goddess of the NIght continued but still secretly for the powers generated were thought to be still too potent for the masses. Till rituals were created for the common man, the ones practised by Niamh and her circle of attendents would remain secret.
As each generation progressed, a subsquent half of the immortal was lost. Each daughter became less able to channel the enregies of the rituals and the tricks of retaining the rite of power to the daughter and not the son became more and more challenging.
I was born with but a tiny portion of the immortal such that I cannot even travel alone to the oracle...Aingeal here must help me..........
to be continued - have class now - that sooo sucks!
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