[Time. Thessaly had seen countless ways of tracking its passing. Across countries and centuries. Across worlds and dimensions. Beings who lived and died were obsessed with marking down what came before and what was to come, and where in that framework they fell. As though situation correlated with singularity. As though defying time meant defying fate.
She was born long before Sister's magic existed. Before the Creator and any devil, before any book good or ill. Yet the pulling tendrils inside of her blood sang like it was yesterday with the familiarity of the crying souls of her home city. One long ago burned to ash.
She was the trickster witch. The homely phantom. She was the anchor and scribe to a past she would only now share with a few, for who else could appreciate the past?
The Twin Songs.
The words sighed in the winds as she appeared. It was a quiet but not gentle rustle. It came out in ancient Greek in the rasps of air. It would sound like a curse to most, but what it meant? A term of affection, for those two little witches that Sister had born. Witches that Thessaly planned to watch over in her way, to provide guidance in traditions that nobody but she still carried.
She was wearing a long skirt and a sensible blouse, hair messily in a braid and glasses thick. She stepped out from the doorway without any pile of smoke or sand or fire because that was trite. She wasn't even trained in divination that well, but some magic was so strong that it vibrated to those who knew the ancient tunes. What she was trained in though was glamour. This truth...
It hurt, but she'd known it even longer.
So she did what she did best. She carried on. Squared her shoulders and focused on the woman for whom this all meant far more than it did to Thessaly.]
There are magics they're not as familiar with. To prologue it. Your appearance.
[No hello, no hugs. She greeted Sister with the prudency of a solution to aid in her plan. Why else bother someone's doorstep? Certainly not for sentimentality. Sister was supremely gifted in obfuscation and glamour, but perhaps additional magic might further aid in her endeavor. An offering, nothing more, and Thessaly wouldn't be insulted if it was rejected.]
[ Thessaly brought with her the echo of Αἰολία. The humanity within Sister Imperator was too young to understand it, but it was with gratitude that she felt her soul - her direct avenue to the Morningstar, his magicks, and the Akashic records - allowing her to glimpse the eternity that her sister-witch carried with her.
She smiled at the pragmatism. Appreciated it. Sentimentality was reserved for her sons. One could say that the root of Thessaly's appearance at her doorstep was indeed love, but never mind that - Sister Imperator was very good at intertwining business with her personal agenda and seeing both to fruition, and that was her greatest strength as the Prime Mover.
Beside the sensible and practical figure that was the powerful witch Thessaly, Sister Imperator painted a different picture. She allowed herself the softness of a white, diaphanous sundress, her blond hair cascading down her back and shoulders, unbound. She was aglow with motherhood and black divinity, a halo gleaming around her head - the very image of the dark Madonna.
In the Ministry halls she would wear her black tapered suits, her scarlet stiletto heels, her silver grucifix. But here, out in the fields of Sweden in summer with her children, she could hide her blades. At least for a moment. ]
It will be a while yet.
[ But for someone like Thessaly, Sister Imperator knew it would pass like the blink of an eye. ]
The road is long for them. There will be many things I will need to keep under lock and key until they are ready.
[Thessaly had never properly met the Morningstar. Oh, she'd been around when that whole scuffle happened, she'd been on the peripheral for the falling out and subsequent shifting that had happened. She had never properly been to hell though, but not because she thought herself relevant enough for Lucifer to care enough to keep. It was Death she evaded, not what came afterwards. No, Thessaly avoided hell because she'd had many enemies fall that ended up there, and other afterlives. She kept moving forward in this plane.
It was clear though that her sister in magic was tied to this entity, and Thessaly respected it. She'd tied herself to a being once, been part of a temple and fiercely loyal to a clergy. She'd never run it, she'd had no interest in that level of political danger, but she understood devotion. Her goddess had sometimes felt like the only being who could understand her desires without shame. Perhaps somewhere, a tiny piece of the silken spider long lost still remained, because Thessaly did.
At the end of the day, there was a bond despite the differences that Thessaly felt. A sense that magic like theirs flowed long before even she existed, and in new ways with witches like Sister. It was that power, sacred and worth protecting, that initially drew Thessaly near.
That Sister ended up being a practical witch who held fast to her beliefs and could handle herself in a match had been a pleasant surprise.
Still. She gave Sister a faint smile at the halo. It was a bit much for Thessaly, but she got it. Symbolism. Nobody escaped it.]
Indeed.
[The offer was on the table, but it would be many years before Sister might need it. If at all. She didn't belabor the point, merely moving on now that Sister knew she had it in her back pocket.
Thessaly didn't snoop, but she did make a slow tour of the space, examining it with a keen eye. Not for aesthetics, but she did always like to note what stayed the same and what if anything changed.]
So many think that truth is an all or nothing endeavor. Especially the young. What none can doubt is your intention in your actions. Or if they do, their loss.
What is the most immediate risk to them, as you see it?
[ The Catholics so did love their ceremony and devotion, their pomp and circumstance - and of course their dark mirror would have the same heavy-handed symbolism.
There were timelines and realities before YHWH condemned magick as not-His, and therefore "evil." Thessaly's power was older than even that, and indeed, Sister Imperator was a newer witch, gifted by the Morningstar the magicks denied of pious Christians. But still, there was sisterhood she felt between her and Thessaly because of the cosmic nature of the arcane that they devoted their lives to, the magick and mysteries that resided in the very fabric of reality that they harnessed.
As such, she understood Thessaly's offer, and was grateful for it. She nodded. She would take her up on this offer, one day when her glamours and her wards began to crack beneath old age and disease. The end of her mortal life was nothing to fear for Sister Imperator, and she welcomed her friend Death even now, even if it would be half a century yet before she came for her. But it reassured her all the same that her sons would have someone watching over them - someone who she knew was as pragmatic (actually even more so) than her, and to be frank, would call them out on their bullshit if necessary.
The field they stood in now was about an hour away from the city, but Sister and her Twin Songs loved it. It was ablaze with flowers, and the sunshine was bright and cheery. Despite the Satanic aesthetic, Sister Imperator was not averse to soft and pleasant things - at least not where her sons were concerned. And they did love to frolic in nature, singing and dancing and free of all worries.
Sister Imperator turned to Thessaly. ]
Thank you.
[ For offering to help strengthen her magick when it was needed, when Sister's mortality flickered and left her. For watching the Twin Songs from the shadows. For her constancy, until it was time for the universe to wrap up and turn off the lights and rest. ]
They will question and feel resentment, no doubt. After all, our tenets stress that knowledge and wisdom are paramount. But these things come with a price, and must come at the right time. The human psyche can be so fragile.
[ Her two sons' laughter drifted to them in the breeze. ]
Their safety. They must be hidden. They are the sons of the Papa Emeritus and the Prime Mover. This immediately paints a target upon their backs. The Unholy See and the position of Prime Mover are their birthrights, but they must only ascend when they are ready - and when those who would threaten their regime are disposed of.
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no subject
She was born long before Sister's magic existed. Before the Creator and any devil, before any book good or ill. Yet the pulling tendrils inside of her blood sang like it was yesterday with the familiarity of the crying souls of her home city. One long ago burned to ash.
She was the trickster witch. The homely phantom. She was the anchor and scribe to a past she would only now share with a few, for who else could appreciate the past?
The Twin Songs.
The words sighed in the winds as she appeared. It was a quiet but not gentle rustle. It came out in ancient Greek in the rasps of air. It would sound like a curse to most, but what it meant? A term of affection, for those two little witches that Sister had born. Witches that Thessaly planned to watch over in her way, to provide guidance in traditions that nobody but she still carried.
She was wearing a long skirt and a sensible blouse, hair messily in a braid and glasses thick. She stepped out from the doorway without any pile of smoke or sand or fire because that was trite. She wasn't even trained in divination that well, but some magic was so strong that it vibrated to those who knew the ancient tunes. What she was trained in though was glamour. This truth...
It hurt, but she'd known it even longer.
So she did what she did best. She carried on. Squared her shoulders and focused on the woman for whom this all meant far more than it did to Thessaly.]
There are magics they're not as familiar with. To prologue it. Your appearance.
[No hello, no hugs. She greeted Sister with the prudency of a solution to aid in her plan. Why else bother someone's doorstep? Certainly not for sentimentality. Sister was supremely gifted in obfuscation and glamour, but perhaps additional magic might further aid in her endeavor. An offering, nothing more, and Thessaly wouldn't be insulted if it was rejected.]
no subject
She smiled at the pragmatism. Appreciated it. Sentimentality was reserved for her sons. One could say that the root of Thessaly's appearance at her doorstep was indeed love, but never mind that - Sister Imperator was very good at intertwining business with her personal agenda and seeing both to fruition, and that was her greatest strength as the Prime Mover.
Beside the sensible and practical figure that was the powerful witch Thessaly, Sister Imperator painted a different picture. She allowed herself the softness of a white, diaphanous sundress, her blond hair cascading down her back and shoulders, unbound. She was aglow with motherhood and black divinity, a halo gleaming around her head - the very image of the dark Madonna.
In the Ministry halls she would wear her black tapered suits, her scarlet stiletto heels, her silver grucifix. But here, out in the fields of Sweden in summer with her children, she could hide her blades. At least for a moment. ]
It will be a while yet.
[ But for someone like Thessaly, Sister Imperator knew it would pass like the blink of an eye. ]
The road is long for them. There will be many things I will need to keep under lock and key until they are ready.
no subject
It was clear though that her sister in magic was tied to this entity, and Thessaly respected it. She'd tied herself to a being once, been part of a temple and fiercely loyal to a clergy. She'd never run it, she'd had no interest in that level of political danger, but she understood devotion. Her goddess had sometimes felt like the only being who could understand her desires without shame. Perhaps somewhere, a tiny piece of the silken spider long lost still remained, because Thessaly did.
At the end of the day, there was a bond despite the differences that Thessaly felt. A sense that magic like theirs flowed long before even she existed, and in new ways with witches like Sister. It was that power, sacred and worth protecting, that initially drew Thessaly near.
That Sister ended up being a practical witch who held fast to her beliefs and could handle herself in a match had been a pleasant surprise.
Still. She gave Sister a faint smile at the halo. It was a bit much for Thessaly, but she got it. Symbolism. Nobody escaped it.]
Indeed.
[The offer was on the table, but it would be many years before Sister might need it. If at all. She didn't belabor the point, merely moving on now that Sister knew she had it in her back pocket.
Thessaly didn't snoop, but she did make a slow tour of the space, examining it with a keen eye. Not for aesthetics, but she did always like to note what stayed the same and what if anything changed.]
So many think that truth is an all or nothing endeavor. Especially the young. What none can doubt is your intention in your actions. Or if they do, their loss.
What is the most immediate risk to them, as you see it?
no subject
There were timelines and realities before YHWH condemned magick as not-His, and therefore "evil." Thessaly's power was older than even that, and indeed, Sister Imperator was a newer witch, gifted by the Morningstar the magicks denied of pious Christians. But still, there was sisterhood she felt between her and Thessaly because of the cosmic nature of the arcane that they devoted their lives to, the magick and mysteries that resided in the very fabric of reality that they harnessed.
As such, she understood Thessaly's offer, and was grateful for it. She nodded. She would take her up on this offer, one day when her glamours and her wards began to crack beneath old age and disease. The end of her mortal life was nothing to fear for Sister Imperator, and she welcomed her friend Death even now, even if it would be half a century yet before she came for her. But it reassured her all the same that her sons would have someone watching over them - someone who she knew was as pragmatic (actually even more so) than her, and to be frank, would call them out on their bullshit if necessary.
The field they stood in now was about an hour away from the city, but Sister and her Twin Songs loved it. It was ablaze with flowers, and the sunshine was bright and cheery. Despite the Satanic aesthetic, Sister Imperator was not averse to soft and pleasant things - at least not where her sons were concerned. And they did love to frolic in nature, singing and dancing and free of all worries.
Sister Imperator turned to Thessaly. ]
Thank you.
[ For offering to help strengthen her magick when it was needed, when Sister's mortality flickered and left her. For watching the Twin Songs from the shadows. For her constancy, until it was time for the universe to wrap up and turn off the lights and rest. ]
They will question and feel resentment, no doubt. After all, our tenets stress that knowledge and wisdom are paramount. But these things come with a price, and must come at the right time. The human psyche can be so fragile.
[ Her two sons' laughter drifted to them in the breeze. ]
Their safety. They must be hidden. They are the sons of the Papa Emeritus and the Prime Mover. This immediately paints a target upon their backs. The Unholy See and the position of Prime Mover are their birthrights, but they must only ascend when they are ready - and when those who would threaten their regime are disposed of.