Date: Sun, 16 Jul 1995 23:58:24 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 32 Greetings Children: No, we've not been abducted by, er, aliens, rather the sometimes slow easiness of Summertime has seeped into our lives. Not to mention virtual parties and vacations. But we're back and raring for a ritual. Hope you missed us. *smile* As always, your comments and feedback are valued. The Merry Fluffsters Baron Gideon Redoak, The Gray Adept, Pandora * * * Shades of Gray, Part 32 * * * c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L.M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Pandora bit her lip to keep from grinning when she saw the Baron and Joshua dressed in their fine suits. But when she caught the merry twinkle in Nicholas's eye she lost it. "Is something amusing, Pandora?" Gideon asked, one fine eyebrow arched. Pandora laughed even harder at the confused expression on his face, as if he thought she were truly insane. "I'm--I'm," she struggled to get out between guffaws. "Oh...I'm sorry," she said finally, brushing tears of mirth from her cheeks. "I've just never seen anyone dressed so...so...f-for a ritual!" she finished, subsiding into a fresh gale of giggles. Joshua was now grinning widely as well, but he quickly frowned when Gideon gave him a look of consternation. "Is this not appropriate attire then?" the distinguished Baron asked, clearly concerned and a little miffed to be laughed at so. "It's just fine, Gideon," Nicholas affirmed, although he had a hard time wiping his own smirk from his face. "It's just, uh, unique. And well, it's been a stressful day, you know..." "Yes," Gideon agreed, his brow relaxing with relief. "I'll go help with Genevieve," Pandora said and headed for the limousine, the odd giggle escaping into the crisp, night air. * * * "We're not dressed right." Alex sighed as he pulled his car up beside Meadowsweet Ridge. This argument had been going back and forth all the way from Valley Mansion. "Janine," he said through clenched teeth, "this is a healing ritual. Green is a healing colour. Symbolism is very important." Janine tightened the green silk scarf around her neck and sniffed. "We look like we're going to a St. Patrick's Day party," she objected, glancing from her green sweater to Alex's green silk shirt. "You're both fine," came the firm voice of Mrs. Jenkins from the back seat of the Rolls. Since the retired Nameless One was wearing a knee-length shift of bleached doeskin and short boots of the same material, her comments on dress were ignored by the quarrelling cousins. "We're here, anyway," said Alex, indicating the other cars already parked in place. "It's too late. No matter what we're wearing, it's important to be here." "I'll bet if _I_ was sick, nobody would be going to all this trouble for me," Janine bitched. Alex bit back the retort that came immediately to mind and reached over to his cousin. He hugged her, much to her surprise. "I would," he said softly. * * * "Oi, Pandora!" The healer turned her head at this form of address, and had to keep all her concentration to keep from laughing out loud all over again. Her "kid brother," Francis, had just driven up on his Harley, spraying snow all over Gideon's Sunday-best apparel. While the Baron spluttered in indignation, Francis leapt nimbly off his bike and offered Pandora a hug. In recognition of the occasion, the young vampire was wearing his old gang colours and a pair of almost-new jeans that didn't have any rips. This was more than he'd done for Pandora and Nicholas' handfasting. "I was starting to get worried that you'd taken off for Texas again," Pandora teased Francis when he let her go. He pulled a face. "Not too likely," he sighed. "I love Rain, but I'm not ready for a family." She tweaked a lock of his long, platinum blond hair. "Will you ever be, Lost Boy?" He grinned, backed away from her, and scooped up a handful of snow. "Call me that again, and this goes down your back..." he threatened. Then he caught sight of Genevieve being carried from the limo, and the snow dribbled out of his fingers. "Damn, I didn't know she was that bad," he said, sobering. "Let's get on with this!" * * * It was a more sombre Pandora who stepped onto the moist earth of the meadow. Seeing Genevieve in her critically weakened state had shocked her back into an awareness of the solemnity of this occasion; however, the laughter had felt good and cleansing. She had discovered a brief moment of joy and felt its tendrils weave a fragile reconnection to her friends, to her community--something that had been dangerously strained these last few weeks. Nicholas's twinkling mirth, Joshua's infectious grin, even Gideon's perplexity, perhaps especially Gideon's perplexity, were all signs of the companionship and warmth she had come to find with these people. It was important to hold onto that joy now, for Pandora knew that in times of illness and adversity it was an important source of strength and wisdom. Breathing deeply of the damp sea air, Pandora became aware of the absence of tension in her body, her limbs and muscles moving with fluid grace, rippling with quiet energy. Now she was truly prepared. * * * Mary had put on the white robe she'd been married in. Not the first time, but the second time. She smiled as she recalled that handfasting ceremony, then frowned as she thought of the reason why she was donning the robe this time. If the ritual did not work, Genevieve would surely die the True Death. Mary sighed at the thought of all her nursing skills and how they were of little use to one of the vampires, or any of the Children of the Night. She was not even sure why Michael wanted her at the ritual, but he seemed to feel that the more people they had, the better. "It will be strange, Maire," he warned her with a kiss. "But I have agreed to keep an open mind. I don't like this mixing of cultures, but Genevieve's life lies in the balance of what we do tonight." Mary hugged her husband. "I trust Pandora," she said. "I don't know this Adept, but the kids liked him, and that's good enough for me." Michael smiled at this statement. "The kids don't like Gideon," he pointed out. "Should we stop seeing him?" "Well..." The mother in Mary laughed at her fond foolishness about her children. "We're running late, Michael." They were running late because they'd had a hard time with the twins. Getting them to accept that they couldn't come and play in the snow with the Brotherhood had been difficult. Promises of future events, bribes of cookies, even threats of punishment had not availed. Worn ragged and worrying about the time, Michael had finally had to resort to his magic to get the twins to bed. Then Bess had sulked over being expected to babysit, and the whole thing had started all over again. Driving in the long white ceremonial robe was always entertaining, Michael reflected, especially in light snow. He sometimes had nightmares of the time when a tree had fallen on his car, causing him to crash. If he lost control of his vehicle here on the Cliff Road, with no guard rails between him and the valley two hundred feet down... his children would be orphans and the ritual would fail. Self-defeatist thinking, he told himself, and concentrated on driving. He was relieved when the end of the Cliff Road was in sight and they were safely in the outskirts of Fletcherville. "It's going to be okay, Mary," he finally managed to tell his wife. She released white knuckles from the edge of her seat. "Yes," she smiled back. "I think so, too." * * * Nicholas lost himself in visceral memory as he followed Pandora to the meadow, watching the sensuous swaying of her hips beneath the flowing folds of her robe. The sound of her earlier laughter had fluttered along his skin, tugging finally on some invisible cord that ran between his heart and his groin. For a brief moment out of time he could smell the burnt embers of the Beltane fires, hear the distant laughter of the revellers, sense the cool waters of the lake lapping his body...their bodies... Nearing the altar, the sight of the emblazoned wheel brought Nicholas back to the present. He did not question its presence, but the sight of the drawn circle was a powerful reminder of what was to come. Up ahead Pandora had paused to scan the surrounding woods and beach, and as he watched her the desire that had been building in his mind and body slowly dissipated, receding to a glowing coal that burned ever in his heart. Once in the circle, Pandora would no longer be his wife, would not be beholden to any man, woman or creature of the Earth. In that circle, she would be a Priestess, her sole purpose to do the bidding of the Goddess, in whatever form that may take. "Niamh," he said quietly, catching up to her, the sense of urgency in his voice causing her to turn to him immediately, a questioning look upon her face. "Niamh," he repeated, taking her hands in his own and studying them momentarily before raising his eyes to her face. "Tha gaol agam ort, Niamh," the bard said softly, lifting her hands to his lips. "Yes, Nevyan," Pandora responded in a whisper, "my love..." She moved forward into his embrace and Nicholas clung to her, gathering strength from her presence while at the same time he felt her already moving away from him. * * * Maggie gasped as a figure in feathers pulled himself from the substance of the charred earth and stood before the gathered assembly. Pale skins with intricate bead work in spirals and circles covered the bulk of his body. Bare white feet and shins protruded from the bottom of the tunic, his ankles bedecked with small, rattling seedpods and feathers. Maggie could not see who it was (although she suspected she knew) because his entire head was hidden under a dome-like mask. The front of the mask depicted a great inverted teardrop of a face, pale gray and dominated by large black eyes. The mask was fearful and peaceful all at once, white owl feathers softening its sharp outlines. The figure stepped forward with a slight hop and turn, the rattles on his ankles a soft echo of the large ceremonial rattle in his right hand. In his left hand he waved a great smoking smudge stick of tobacco and sage. The figure turned to the assembled crowd and spoke, the mask oddly amplifying and distorting what was clearly the Adept's voice. "Pilch'ka, Altsin sella, Ho-ushte-hiye," he said, then translated: "Meeting, joining, one another, helpmates ever." * * * Date: Sun, 17 Sep 1995 11:11:23 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 33 Children: It has been long since we met to share with you our tale. For those of you who have been reading and enjoying this, rest assured we have a number of sections to send out; alas, the ending may be somewhat delayed due to the pressures and constraints of Real Life (tm). But here is the first of a number of sections to be posted over the next week or so, I believe. As always, comments, kudos, professions of undying love (where does one find a job like that?), are very welcome, and may be addressed to the e-mail addresses noted below in the copyright notice. And a special thank you to those who have been reading, responding and bearing with our somewhat erratic posting schedule. * * * Shades of Gray Part 33 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Cool ocean air caressed Pandora's hair as she knelt over Genevieve, ensuring her comfort and warmth with the woollen blankets she had brought from the house. The vampire's eyes fluttered briefly at the healer's touch and then stilled. She did not sleep, but the effort of holding them open appeared too great. Jean knelt by Genevieve's side, holding tightly to one slender hand. Michael had frowned when he had first seen the wheel superimposed over the spiral altar, but he fought against his instinctive rebellion against this foreign element, opening himself to all possibilities within the circle. He busied himself with the purification of the sacred space, that Time that is not Time, and Place that is not Place. In the circle, all doubts, anxieties and disbeliefs would be suspended. The salting completed, he lit a cone of pine incense to cleanse the air. "We are ready," he said softly to Pandora before taking his place at the centre of the circle. Pandora joined him, motioning to the Adept to also take his place with them. The others had gathered loosely about the perimeter, each smudged with mugwort by Maggie before gathering in the sacred space. They watched in hushed anticipation as Pandora raised her ash wand, chosen for its power over the conscious and sub-conscious realms of Self. Facing Eastward she began the invocation of the circle: "Spirits of the East, Elements of Air, Blade of the Mind, the Intellect, the Dawning of the Word. Come and enlighten us with Inspiration, Logic and Design. Grace our circle. Be Here Now. Blessed be." The Adept raised his ceremonial rattle to the East and spoke after Pandora. "Home where the sun shines continually, accept this offer. Awahili, eagle spirit, we walk your black road of wisdom and illumination." Michael chanted softly along with them in an ancient language, their voices blending in a lilting cadence of sound, underscored by the rhythmic wash of waves in the distance. Turning to the South, Pandora continued in English so that all might understand: "Spirits of the South, Elements of Fire, Wand of the Will, Heat of Desire. Come and Inspire us with Enthusiasm, Initiative and Courage. Grace our circle. Be Here Now. Blessed Be." "Tsistu," the Adept spoke, the mask reverberating with the name, "we make this offering to the rabbit spirit, walker of the red road, the path of life and growth." At the sound of a cough, Pandora paused as she turned to the West, her concentration briefly disrupted. Yet as she scanned the circle of gathered guests she was unable to identify any individual, seeing only the luminescence of their energies shining softly in the inky blackness. Taking a deep, cleansing breath she refocused and continued: "Spirits of the West, Elements of Water, Chalice of Love, Dreams, Vision and Emotion. Come and fill us, bring us Wisdom, Divination, Gnosis and the Knowledge that surpasses Understanding. Open our eyes to our Night Vision at this waning time of the Moon. Grace our circle. Be Here Now. Blessed Be." "Yanu," the Adept said as he joined her, "where the sun lies down and dies, lead us, o' spirit of the bear, along this path of lessons. Accept this offering." And to the last direction the three turned: "Spirits of the North, Elements of Earth, Pentacle of Manifestation and Magic, Guardian of the Wild. Come and Empower us, bring us will over Function and Form. Strengthen our bodies, deliver unto us the blessings and the wisdom of your realm. Draw aside the Veil of Reality. Grace this circle. Be Here Now. Blessed Be." "Yunsu," the Adept added, "O' spirit of the buffalo in the home of the great white giant, accept this offering and lead us safely on the path of purification. We seek your help expressly for purity, for renewal, for cleansing." The three of them then turned inward to face the centre of the circle, to face each other. Pandora reached for both the Adept's hand as well as Michael's, holding them tightly in her own. In unison, she and the Archdruid spoke: "Lord and Lady, Light and Dark, Seen and Unseen, Yin and Yang, All that is--Abide with us, Unite within us, Grace this circle. Be Here Now. Blessed Be." "We we lo lo ah yum tu ma, pinu'u, pinu'u," The Adept chanted, then repeated in English. "There at the centre of the universe, I am I." The three--priest, priestess, and erstwhile shaman--said again, in unison, "Blessed Be." The final "Blessed be" was repeated around the circle, as Nicholas softly began to play upon his drum, raising energy for the rites to follow.* * * * * Adapted from _The Witch's Book of Days_, Jean Kozocari, Yvonne Owens, Jessica North (Victoria: Beach Holme) 1994, 199-200 and _American Indian Ceremonies_, Medicine Hawk and Grey Cat (New Brunswick: Inner Light) 1990, 43-51. * * * Date: Sun, 17 Sep 1995 20:29:25 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 34 Shades of Gray Part 34 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * ~The Sacred Marriage, Tadg, the wedding of the intuitive sub-conscious with the thinking mind. Water and Air. Desire and Intellect. Genevieve must drink from the Chalice. We must all drink from the Chalice, from the cup of life, of enlightenment.~ Pandora's words echoed in the Archdruid's mind as she handed him the cup for the ritual. It was a simple fired clay chalice with a clear glaze. Over the glazing had been painted in black the runes of the trees and their corresponding Ogham letters, the ancient Druidic script. Not all thirteen were represented, Michael noted, but the ones which held particular resonance for this ceremony. He glanced up at Pandora, his green eyes shining with admiration, recognizing this for her handiwork. The runes and letters of Willow, Ash and Ivy were prominent around the lip of the cup, representing respectively the alchemy of Air and Water, of the chalice and the blade, expanded awareness of the connectedness between inner and outer, and finally the labyrinthine nature of Self, harmony and creative force. Ivy...Michael's hands trembled slightly as the significance of this particular symbol wove its way through his consciousness, much as tendrils of the plant sought cool, moist pockets of soil in which to root. Spider and Wolf were the totems of Ivy, Spider being the symbol of connectedness, and Wolf the guardian of the Underworld and guide on the Westerly journey into the realm of intuition, dream, vision and emotion. The physical representation of this realm Michael held in his hands, reverently, as he stood at the Western point of the wheel. He had not questioned Pandora when she directed him in this role, which would more traditionally have been carried out by her, by the priestess. Although he balked at it with the rational part of his mind, given his many years of learning and tradition, this was not a traditional ritual. As the words Pandora had spoken came to his memory, so too did her explanation for why this particular ritual was so important. He watched Pandora and the Gray Adept place their hands together over the smooth, ivory bone handle of the athame, and the sense of the rightness of this rose, blooming in his veins with an assuredness borne of centuries of study and a keen intuition of magickal potential. The seedpods around the Adept's ankles rattled softly as he and Pandora took measured steps from the Eastern point of the wheel, their fingers entwined over the handle of the blade. He chanted softly the words of a people with whom he had long ago dwelled, the sounds somehow ringing clearly in the night despite the muffling effect of the mask he wore. Pandora glanced up at him as they neared Michael, seeking to seal the connection with the meeting of their grey-blue eyes. The Adept caught his breath, his gaze pulled into hers, experiencing again the sensation of staring down an endless corridor of repeating blue-grey portals, as he had during their dimension dancing. His hand tightened reflexively over hers, seeking the physical manifestation of their connection, afraid of the wrenching disintegration of before. Yet as he continued to stare into the irises that pulsed and shimmered with delicate veins of silver a sense of peacefulness arose, like a gentle hand stroking his skin with soothing softness, an electrical serenity that spiralled through his nerve-endings. He closed his eyes, committing the sight to his inner vision, just catching the fleeting silhouette of a lone Wolf that seemed to scamper across the surface of Pandora's black, fathomless pupils. The crimson wine rippled as the blade plumbed the depths of the chalice, while the heady fruitiness of elderberry exploded on Pandora's tongue, laced with honey. The symbols decorating the cup seemed to dance, the glaze cracking into a fine tracery of webbed lines. "And so shall we all drink from the chalice of love and dreams, vision and emotion, tempered by the sharp blade of mind and intellect. Witness here the coming of the Word, of Wisdom and Truth," Pandora spoke softly as she and the Adept slowly drew the blade from the wine, standing together with hands still joined as Michael drew the first draught from the blessed cup before offering it to the Adept. The Archdruid then turned, offering the cup of wine to those in the circle to drink and be joined in the Sacred Marriage of community and spirit. The first to drink were those gathered among them who were not vampires, Mary, Maggie, Nicholas, Joshua, Ray, Mitch and Evan, before Michael returned to Pandora and the Adept. Still holding the blade together, the two gently sliced Pandora's free wrist, allowing three drops of her blood to splash into the wine. Only then did she release her grip from the blade, taking the cup from Michael and drinking deeply. Pandora completed the circle, offering the cup to Francis, then Alex and Janine, and finally Gideon. The Baron raised his hands awkwardly to cover Pandora's own as she held the cup to his lips. His eyes sought hers, but she sensed, rather than saw the distress in them, like raw, cold ocean waves washing over her skin. she spoke silently, her consciousness reaching to touch his. The Baron's shoulders stiffened slightly then relaxed, the delicate scent of meadowsweet permeating his nostrils. Pandora approached Jean, who still held Genevieve's hand tightly in his own, and he, too, visibly relaxed as he took a sip of the blood laced wine, enveloped by the soft, spicy scents of herbs. "Genevieve," Pandora whispered. The vampire's lids snapped open, her blue eyes dark and cloudy, struggling to focus in the direction of the healer's voice. "You must drink," Pandora continued, holding the chalice to Genevieve's lips as Jean supported her head and shoulders. Genevieve instinctively shrank back from the proffered liquid, a wave of nausea, green-tinged and roiling, rising in her gorge. "Non..." she protested weakly, raising one slender hand in an impotent gesture. "It is all right," Pandora insisted, her words caressing Genevieve's ears with a velvet warmth. Locking eyes with the healer, Genevieve opened her mouth, allowing a small amount of cool liquid to pass her lips. She swallowed with some difficulty as the fruity wine trickled down her throat, the hint of Pandora's spicy blood arousing the hunger in her such as she had never known. Her veins prickled with poignant need, singing with the pain of emptiness. She took another drink, then another, actively drawing the soothing balm into her parched mouth until the chalice had been emptied. A flicker of relief pulsed in her irises, along with an intense gratefulness which she communicated silently to Pandora before falling heavily back against Jean who gripped her tightly in his arms. Pandora raised her wrist, still lined with freshly drawn blood, to Genevieve's mouth, and was gratified when the woman's tongue, still cool from the wine, darted out and licked the wound. "Feel the love," Pandora whispered, passing her hand over Genevieve's brow, her wrist tingling and itching as it healed. * * * Date: Wed, 20 Sep 1995 09:32:39 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 35 Shades of Gray Part 35 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * The deep, rhythmic beating of the drum filled the night air with sound, cascading and crescendoing through the treetops. Around the circle the participants swayed to the primal beat. Michael had taken up a low, steady chant, harmonizing with the throbbing percussion, and soon Maggie, Mary and Ray had joined in the chanting along with him. Pandora bent to the task of preparing Genevieve, focusing and directing the energy being raised in the circle through her hands as she bathed her, cleansing and purifying the body and spirit for the ritual. Pandora had prepared the herbal wash the previous night, infusing it with a variety of herbs chosen for their protective and purifying qualities, including tansy, rue, valerian and vervain. Hyssop was added for its sacred and spiritual cleansing properties, sage to clear the consciousness, and the last was basil, for courage and strength. The Adept sat cross-legged at the North end of the circle, waving a smoking bundle of sage and tobacco over Genevieve's fevered brow. He swayed forward and back with the rhythm of the drum beats and his own soft chanting. Above him, faintly present in the blue smoke, was the figure of a bent and wrinkled man. The Adept took strength in his spirit guide's presence, hearing his old name among long forgotten peoples, "Storm Cloud, I am with you..." The aromas of the herbal bath rose and blended with the tang of sea air and smoke, further enhancing Pandora's growing trance-like state. Genevieve stirred a few times, clearly uncomfortable to be exposed, but her murmurs of protest died in the wake of Pandora's soothing assurances. The healer worked quickly, as mindful of the effects of the cold, damp air, as of the vampire's personal discomfort, and soon had Genevieve wrapped up in the warmth of her dressing gown and the woollen blankets after annointing her with oil of mugwort. Taking the earthenware bowl of water, Pandora reverently placed it at the hub of the "wheel," murmuring a blessing and thanks to Airmid as she did so. She returned once more to Genevieve, laying her palms one final time on either temple, centring the healing power which flowed through the circle and from her hands with a fluid lightness. As Pandora disconnected from Genevieve and stood to return to the centre of the altar, a wave of dizziness and nausea struck her, accompanied by a blanket of thick, woollen darkness. A small cry escaped her throat as Nicholas faltered slightly in his rhythmic drumming. She stretched her arms outwards, reaching with her fingertips for something solid, but she felt nothing, and her vertigo increased. she cried, although no sound passed her lips. Her voice sounded dead in her ears, hollow, with no resonance, dense and empty. whirling darkness, scentless Pandora closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowing the panic that was rising. In the Earth she felt a slow, steady, throbbing, slowly, inexorably channelling towards her, creeping into her limbs, filling her with sound joy and light, violet, soft, sweet swirling grey confusion The drum's rhythmic beat grew louder, thundering in Pandora's ears, her senses opening to the magic around her, swirling and shimmering like the aurora borealis. She took a step and stumbled, only to be caught by strong arms before she fell. * * * The Adept supported Pandora's weight even as he warned away the other participants in the ritual. His head was light with medicine that was alien to him and yet a palpable part of his past and presence. Nicholas halted his drumming at the sight of Pandora in his arms, and the night air muffled them in cottony stillness. The Adept listened. he heard the old man say. The Adept leaned back, arching his spine so that he could support Pandora and gaze into the heavens. "Great Spirit!" he bellowed "Show us the way. Help us to walk the path of purification." came Bone Cinder's brittle rebuke. A cold sweat broke out upon his brow as little bumps formed at each follicle on this human form. Holding Pandora, her head rocking with semi-conscious chants, the Adept knew too well what that meant. Now they had come to the dance, and only the great spirits of all directions and worlds could know what would be the consequences. The Adept straightened stiffly, pulling Pandora uncertainly to balance on her own two feet. Michael briefly noticed, the druid deeply involved in his own ministerings around the prone figure of Genevieve. The Adept nodded sharply to Nicholas, gesturing with his rattle that the Bard resume his drumming. Slowly, with hesitant and shuffling steps, the Adept began to dance around the sick woman. Pandora seemed to sense the rhythm of the drum with her entire body. She shrugged off the Adept's supporting hands and pulsed sensuously to the beat. Seeds and feathers rattled, and wisps of smoke began to take more tangible form. Those assembled at the circle began to feel an atmospheric pulse, loosening their joints and inviting them to movement. A wind, oddly temperate for the season, picked up in the clearing, carrying on it the half whispered voices of singers. The languages were mixed, Tklinget toned into Zulu, Vedic rhymed with Gaelic. They sang with the harmony of the spheres, a haunting tune that cannot be held in memory. Spiralling out from the centre of the circle, smoke and light writhed around the still form of Genevieve before rocketing out and through the people surrounding her. Gossamer filaments of angel hair spun from the circle, gathering in the trees and sparkling in the starlight. The participants in their carefully chosen garments were soon whirling and whirled in shawls of cobweb and light. On these fine and spritely fibres, Pandora and The Gray Adept danced, their feet supported by the feathery stuff. And as the circle weaved its threads, the outside world began to fray, melting beyond the limits of perception. Date: Fri, 22 Sep 1995 09:48:45 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 36 Shades of Gray Part 36 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Cold. Dark. Lost. Alone Always alone. Feet faltered on the spiral path. The drumming became a distant nuisance. The bitter almond taste of loneliness, the sharp cold coils of it, filled him with despair, making him want to turn back. said the wind that ruffled the curls on his head. mocked the shadows. He shivered, turning his head away from the mockers. There were no shadows directly under his feet. A bright blue spiral path, leading the way to...what? glowed beneath him. His eyes were drawn to the path, and he tried to remember. He drew in a breath, inhaling the scents of snow and mugwort, ocean and doeskin. The path dimmed and glowed, dimmed and glowed. A pattern, a beat, like drumming. A green chant came on a different wind, one that did not mock or tempt, but beckoned with the scent of hope. cried the shadows. said the drumming. The walker's feet moved him forward on the glowing path. The dark wind tugged on his robe, trying to hold him back, so he cast it off and let the shadows have it. It was black, the colour of despair, and he had no more use for it. said the shadows. said the green chant, the smell of the sea. said an entirely new voice, as if crystal spoke. He looked up, although his feet did not stop moving this time. Two lights shone above the path, bright but not blinding. In the moving, splintered borealis, he could just make out forms of male and female, crowned with antlers, with holly, with nothing but the glory of Their light. He knew these two. He knelt. said the Lady. said the Lord. The light rolled up into itself and vanished. The wanderer rose, crystal tears in his eyes. His feet matched the beat of the drumming, the chanting, and Ray ran the spiral path, transported by joy. Date: Fri, 22 Sep 1995 09:49:39 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 37 Shades of Gray Part 37 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Pandora swayed with the Earthly rhythm, syncopation pulsing through the silvery fine threads winding themselves around her bare feet, caressing the soles with feathery soft strokes. The swirling, grey vertigo had receded, pulled beyond and outwards on whirring hummingbird wings. Darkness surrounded her, inky depths of blackness that shimmered with palpitating violet limned sound waves. Lithe limbs loose and languid, Pandora danced around the centre of her being, stretched taut, thrumming with awareness, tuned to perfect pitch, like fine silk on steel guitar strings. The impossibly warm breeze breathed through her unbound hair, strumming the bare skin of her arms, her back, playing her nerve endings. No longer wearing the confining ceremonial robe, she was clad in sky, arms outstretched to embrace the stars. Softly, tenderly, a tendril of smoky yellow breath wound its way along her spine and she turned towards the source, stray feathers tickling her as she reached out to embrace it. Blue-green fibrils of light spun serpentine from her fingertips as she twirled, becoming enmeshed in a myriad of tangerine and pussywillow gray, spiralling in a triple helix that had no visible end. It surrounded her, bending to her shape, mimicking her movements, carrying her further and further through the dusky purple veil of reality. Like stage curtains, the veil was drawn further aside, revealing yet another stratum of sky, sun-kissed salmon and royal blue, red-hued Venus surrounded by a symphony of sparkling starlight. Pandora, eyes wide open, saw only blackness as she travelled, pulled inexorably to an unbidden destination, yet not unwillingly. At the moment the Adept had caught her in his arms, when Nicholas's drumming had begun again, when her feet and limbs had moved unhaltingly, instinctively to the rhythmic heartbeat of the Earth, she had let go her worldly bounds, surrendering herself to the netherregions of consciousness, letting the darkness flood out of her until she was enveloped in its generous arms, abandoned in outer vision. ~Look outwards into the darkness, look inwards into the light~ the Goddess had said. Pandora closed her eyes and a dim light pulsed slowly against her eyelids. The wind rose, brushing the treetops, releasing their pungent, resinous scent into the swirling air. Laughter echoed from the sheer rock face of the coastal cliffs, light, joyous, a child's laughter. Pandora gasped and opened her eyes, straining towards the sound, eyes seeking, but darkness shrouded her sight once more. The strands of web bowed with her weight as she felt the unmistakeable rush of freefall. "NO!" she screamed, resisting, fighting, flailing with her very spirit. She closed her eyes again to the silvery shimmer of moonlight and was bouyed once more by the never-faltering cadence of the drumming, reaching her even from her precarious cosmic perch. The rich, earthy scent of composted oak leaves caressed her temples as nimble, strong fingers stroked lovingly the silkwound tautness of her core. Desire rushed to the surface at every touch until soon she was throbbing, pulsating, shimmering with passion. Crimson rain pattered on her mindskin, cooling the heat and yet intensifying the electrical synapses zagging sensuously across her nerve endings. "YES!" she cried, opening her eyes to a brilliant sunrise, blue sky so pale it resonated with yellow. * * * Date: Fri, 29 Sep 1995 09:27:26 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 38 Shades of Gray Part 38 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Francis fidgeted in the snow, wondering why so many in the circle looked transported. He caught Janine's gaze and noticed that she was as confused as he was. Neither of them had any personal belief system, and they were not prone to visions. The young Harley owner wondered if he should have smoked something beforehand to enhance this experience for himself. He watched as Pandora nearly fell and the Adept caught her. 'Something up between those two,' he thought, 'No wonder Nicky's like a rooster with one hen missing these days.' Yet Nicholas kept drumming, the rhythm unlike any rock beat Francis had ever heard. Despite himself, he felt it get under his skin, make him want to move, to dance. An old, old cadence, the sound of a primal heartbeat, the drumming was affecting them all. Even Alex was nodding his head to it. That was pretty funny, Francis thought, old Alex feeling the beat of the drumming. He wondered if even the Baron had unbent so far as to move to the beat, and sneaked a glance in that direction. Gideon and Joshua were holding hands, eyes closed, obviously in their own little world of shared joy and love. The bond between them was almost palpable, even to Francis. He felt a sudden lump in his throat, a hollow spot deep inside. He swore when he got back to his shack, he'd give Rain a call. There was a sudden flurry of movement off in one section of the circle. The are probably had some significance, but Francis didn't know why each of the Brotherhood had been told to stand where they were. Ray Griffin had been set on one path, one he'd resisted at first, and so far he'd just been walking the spiral quietly. He'd been standing still for a long time, seeming to wrestle with something no one else could see or hear. Far gone in a vision, Francis thought with a touch of concern for his drinking buddy. Then he'd flung off his black ceremonial robe, despite the fact that he was stark naked underneath, and he'd run the rest of his path to the middle of the circle to kiss Genevieve. The concern he felt for Ray made him touch the web, become a part of the whole whether he wanted to or not. Suddenly he saw his friend as a part of the Brotherhood for the first time, as someone who belonged and was welcomed. There was a glow around Ray that clothed him more wholly than the discarded robe had done, a glow that reached out to touch each of the others. Francis felt the empty spot that was Rain's name shrink to almost nothingness as it was filled with the love and togetherness of the Brotherhood. He willingly began to dance to the rhythm of the drum, to make himself a part of this healing. Date: Fri, 29 Sep 1995 19:53:58 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 39 Shades of Gray Part 39 * * * c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L.M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca; jgra@music.stlawu.edu; wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * The smooth, taut skin of the drum caressed Nicholas's palms and fingertips, its hollow-toned rhythm welling up from the Earth upon which it stood. The bard's hands put voice to the beating, freed the cadence from its moist tomb. His sight focused on Pandora, eyes tracing the movement of her ivory-skinned arms as she tended Genevieve, the smooth rippling of the muscles of her back, black clad, blending with the darkness so it seemed as if the very sky shivered. The sound of chanting thrummed in his eardrums, melding with the beating of the drum, stirring an energy that coursed through and beyond his veins, shimmering past his skin. Around the circle the air quivered with dusky hued light, blurring the edges of each individual gathered as they swayed, hands clasped tightly. Nicholas relaxed into the rhythm of the ritual, tension slithering down his spine, loosed into the soil beneath the soles of his feet. Yet his eyes never left Pandora, and when she stumbled his body lurched in mis-beat, the pulse of the Earth caroming crazily off the walls of his brain. Threads of silver glowed violently green, wrapping themselves around Pandora and the Gray Adept, who now held her. he screamed silently, fighting to move towards her, but the shaking of the Adept's rattle halted him, the many-seeded slithering awakening his nerves once again to the still incessant beating of the ground. His hands moved over the drum, singing the music of Mother Earth's dark memories... ...He walked through a wild meadow, bare thighs stroked by soft grasses and tall wildflowers, heavy with dewy dusk. Stars twinkled faintly in a pale, grey sky, edged with pinkish light. The ground thrummed beneath the naked soles of his feet, his ears filled with the steady, melodic beating of a lone drum. His legs moved, one after the other, slowly, mechanically, drawing his body ever forward. The sky darkened with each step he took, until pitch blackness filled his sight. The moonless expanse cast shadows over the stars, weighing down upon him like a musty velvet shroud through which he could not even see his hand before his face. The black void filled him, seeping through every pore, stroking his skin with iron kisses, raising the tiny hairs on his arms and legs. He shivered in the emptiness, numbly aware of his aloneness as he helplessly moved ever forward, his legs void of feeling. Gradually the faint scent of salt spray tickled his nostrils and his heart beat faster until he was engulfed in a dull aching pain which radiated from a core beneath his sternum. His feet picked up the pace, seeking now to hurry the journey, sensing a desperate need to reach something... He drew near the edge of the meadow, restless ocean now visible through the gap in the swaying branches of the willows, white foam glistening beneath the lightening sky. Stars and a crescent moon shone palely against a royal blue backdrop. He faltered at the sight of a large wheel in the grass, barely visible for the plants which grew from the fissures. What had once been a garden bed in the form of a spiral was choked with weeds and clover, the shape only discernible to the eye that knew where to look. Nicholas sank to his knees, the pain of loss, steel-edged and glistening with drops of ruby blood, slicing through his chest. his voice welled up from deep within, thick with anguish. He buried his face in his hands, but could not stem the flow of tears which rushed from his eyes, dripping through his parted fingers and splashing upon the dry earth. he responded, and indeed the rhythmic beating that had moved his hands and feet had ceased, leaving only a dull, echoless silence. he protested, but drew his hands away from his face, eyes still closed. The soil beneath his knees had softened, the rich, woody scent of damp oak leaves perfuming the breeze. He breathed deeply, his mindsight opening, filling with the play of light through a canopy of leaves, soft tinkling laughter ringing the air with joy. Slowly he let his lids creep upwards, unshed tears spilling onto his cheeks. All was deathly still and deeply black. He stared straight out before him to where he had glimpsed the ocean only moments before, but did not strain to see. As the words that are not words faded as a soft soughing in the treetops, Nicholas spied something that flickered so quickly he was afraid he had dreamed it. But there it was again, a faint tendril of blue-green wavering beyond the rustling willow. He stared unblinking, willing it to appear again, the throbbing of his heart echoing steadily in his ears. There! This time it was unmistakeable, and the sight of it filled him with a rushing warmth that soothed the pain in his chest until it was a mere itch beneath the skin. As he watched, the tendril grew stronger, more vibrant, swirling and spiralling over the water. Another thread was being pulled towards it, muted tangerine- orange, then another, softly gray as pussywillow. The itch in his chest flared and burned as the threads twined together, rippling and shimmering in harmony. He got slowly to his feet, bits of compost crumbling away from his knees. He stretched his arms toward the sky, toward the lights playing there, willing his feet to move once again. As one step followed another, the soil thrummed where his soles found contact, urging him forward until his bare feet touched the rocky beach. The waves washed the stones ceaselessly, their rushing blending with the beating rhythm coursing through the veins of the Earth. His breath was drawn from him in a gasp as he plunged into the cold water, letting the restless movement of the sea pull his body further from shore. Overhead the threads still danced, twining, expanding, making of the sky an intricate multi-hued tapestry. He rolled onto his back, buoyed by the dense briny water, eyes tracing the growing mandala, never leaving the blue-green thread. He closed his eyes, and the image continued to glow behind his lids, continued to grow and expand. The itch in his chest was now unbearable and though he opened his mouth to shout in anguish, his pain was released in song. Swiftly his body filled his mouth with words and melody, mimicking the movement of the labyrinthine threads in the sky. A strand of violet, faintly shimmering, now joined the spiralling design, glowing ever brighter as it became entangled, pulled into the dance, pulsing with rhythm and music. The skin of Nicholas's face tingled with warmth and he opened his eyes to seek its source, squinting against the first rays of the rising sun. Date: Sat, 30 Sep 1995 10:01:20 -0300 From: Pandora Subject: FLUFF: Shades of Gray, Part 40 Comments, kudos, chocolate kisses, welcomed... The Merry Fluffsters: Baron Gideon Redoak The Gray Adept Pandora * * * Shades of Gray Part 40 c. 1995, A. Fraser, J. Gray, L. M. Wallace {fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca, jgra@music.stlawu.edu, wallacel@ac.dal.ca} * * * Joshua shivered as he watched the actions of the three within the circle, the drumming and chanting seeming to echo the pulse of his blood through his body. He knew how much Gideon loved Genevieve, how close they were, and he hoped for his lover's sake that the healing worked. He himself felt a little distant, actually, too tired to take part in the dancing. It worried him that he'd been so lethargic lately, not really ill, but bone-tired. Blood-tired. He couldn't even blame Gideon, it had been more than a month since his vampiric lover had sipped his blood while in the act of shared pleasure. Perhaps he should go and have a physical, or let Pandora make him some more tea... He looked at Gideon, who smiled back at him, and felt the love tug at him. Oh, God, how lucky he was! His cold hand stole into Gideon's grasp, and the touch warmed him. Who said vampires were cold? He remembered a night, five years ago, when he'd been alone in a hotel room. A night like many others, staring at the assembly-line pictures on the walls and wondering if he had the nerve to go to the local gay bar. Then the phone call from the lawyer, Paul Stryker, and his life had changed. He'd found love, an instant family, a whole community of people so closely knit by their very differences that they were gathered here to save one of their own. In a way, Genevieve's very illness and peril had brought the Brotherhood together as nothing else, not even shared danger or shared joy, had before. Even Griffin seemed part of the group, even the breathers like Mary and himself. Joshua no longer felt cold as the meaning of the ritual came home to him, as the drumming heated his blood and seemed to wash away the tiredness... Gideon felt the hand in his slowly warm up, and smiled at his lover. The cool wind ruffled the Baron's dark hair as even he felt the beat of the drum and the power of the chanting. He gazed solemnly at the woman who was the focus of this gathering. Genevieve, his mentor, his mother...she had saved him twice. More, perhaps. He owed her everything, and much of his concentration was on getting her well. Saving her back. But Joshua...Ah, God. Gideon bit his lip. He was torn, his emotions unsure of where to go, the worry gnawing like a trapped rodent. Joshua had been so ill lately, so tired and pale. Gideon had kept his worries about Genevieve from Joshua, fearing to upset him, fearing to push the weariness into serious illness. He had kept his worries about Joshua from the rest of the Brotherhood, since they were all preoccupied with Genevieve and the Adept. The Baron wasn't certain he could keep this up, it was grinding him down so that he always had a headache and his shoulders ached. He loved them both, and could not bear to lose either one, and if felt more and more like he was going to have to make an impossible choice... Then the drumming seemed to ease his head and his heart. He saw a band of light flow from his hand to Joshua's, twisting and binding them together with a yellow scent of love...and the light spread, flowing to Genevieve, to Mitch, to Evan, to Michael and the rest ...