buffalo_bill (buffalo_bill) wrote in supernextdoor, @ 2012-07-09 17:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo scene, 10.17.11, bill |
Monday Morning Ritual
Who: Bill
What: A friendly Chat with the Spirits
When: 10.17.11, Early Morning
Where: Bill's house
Warning: None
*Note: Text enclosed in :: text :: is translated from whatever Native Dialect it is he uses.
Bill let out a breath... He watched it cloud in the cool morning air. It matched the thick fog that covered the land in the cold early morning. Fog that would be gone shortly. Yeah, it was good and fall, now. He rolled his neck, and stretched his arms. His freshly emptied cup of coffee sat nearby, next to an almost licked clean bowl of oatmeal. The good kind, steel-cut oats. Still enough surface to them to give them a good texture. The sun wasn't up yet. It wouldn't be up for at least another hour. His neighbors were fast asleep, he wagered. That helped. He lived far enough away that his neighbors weren't directly on top of his small piece of property. Even so, this morning's ritual promised to be interesting... and it was the main reason he was standing outside in his loosest sweat pants and was now peeling off his white tank-top shirt. He refused to call them by their other name.
Tossing the shirt to land on a patio chair, he spread his arms and took a deep breath. His body began to shift. He rose onto his toes, as they transitioned into split hooves. His body hair grew thicker and darker, covering the tattoos on his arms. His skin darkened, and his body almost doubled its already considerable size. Short, thick horns sprouted from his forehead as his head adopted a more bovine shape. His fingers curled into short, thick, hard digits that couldn't move very well. Bison were never meant to have hands. As the change finished, Bill now weighed close to a ton, stood almost nine feet tall, and his torso was covered in thick, bushy fur that almost made it appear that he had a mane.
The world was a blur. He couldn't wear glasses or contacts in this form, so his eyes remained uncorrected. New volumes of smell filled his wet nose, mostly from the fire, filled with burning cedar and hickory. He let out a long breath, and stepped into the sacred circle, laying a fresh cut cedar-branch on the flames. The branch, full of life and water, crackled as the fire began to take it. He began to chant... ::"Oh great spirits of life and nature: Hear your servant who walks the path of man and bison. Help me to see the path you have laid before me.":: It was the chant he used to start all of his rituals. It sounded different, rumbled in his Hybrid form's voice. His voice was normally deep... in this form, it went even deeper, and lost a great deal of the human qualities. Strangely, though, the syllables weren't anything he couldn't pronounce in this body. Anyone seeing this would think it the most surreal sight in the world. A gigantic minotaur, for lack of a better description, began to rumble an ancient hymn to the spirits, as his feet began to carry him into the dance. The dance was just as vital as the words. The strange part, he'd learned, sometimes, it was helped if he chose this form for his rituals... He'd wondered what his vision yesterday would have looked like had he used this form... been a bit closer to nature than his human form... But wondering how visions MIGHT turn out was an exercise in futility and, worse yet, distraction. He couldn't afford to be distracted now.
The spiritual sensation swelled... his voice raised, ::"Great Spirits! Help me find the Demon who hunts with his mind!":: At that, he grabbed the small paper envelope he'd had tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants, now straining against his thick legs. He cast it with practiced aim, and a knowledge of this back yard that he could navigate blindfolded. The paper flew into the fire, landing atop the crackling branch, as the flames licked and consumed the paper. Bill dropped to his knees with a thud that might have shaken the ground. The fires moved over the bloodstained glass inside the envelope. The Spiritual surge almost robbed Bill of his breath... He saw...
Mists swirled and twisted. A large canid form emerged from them. Not a wolf. He knew the Wolf. The mouth lolled open. The long, thin snout parted in what looked for all the world to be a smile. Coyote. It yapped out a laughing bark, pranced once in a circle, and pointed with his nose into the fog. In spirit, Bill rose, and followed him. A short distance into the fog, shapes began to emerge... The basement of the bar. And in it, something alive. A bear, lying bleeding from the head in the middle of the floor. Beyond it, The demon again. A black, sinuous form with eyes made of glass. A third hand emerged from the center of its head, wrapping around a keg. Coyote yipped, and the fog retreated for a moment... In the place of the demon there now stood a man, clad in black mask and gloves. However, connected as he was to the spirit world, Bill felt an overwhelming surge. This was the man... The fog reasserted itself, and with it, the visage of the demon. But this only made it easier to see into the mind of the monster.
Rage. Spiritual flames surged from around the Demon... Bill resisted the urge to stagger back. A golden swirl to the flame... a prideful swelling of the chest. Superiority. The demon felt himself better than the bear. Toward many things. Blackness radiating out like smoke. Hate. Seething hatred. The smoke spread out into the Aether, causing the distant fog to recoil. The spiritual... the supernatural. He hated them all. And a blood red rose at his core, with thorns that looked at home on a saw briar... Bill Pushed forward... the center... what drove this man... Why he was doing what he did... a twisted, demented form of love... In the center of the rose, he saw it. A beautiful young woman... Bill reached for her, to try and draw her closer... Coyote yipped again, drawing her image close, as the scene of the attack faded. She held her arms out beside her, as her form twisted and shifted into a dog... golden retriever, by the looks... That was an odd species for a were, but then again, so was Bison. But then, she shifted from the dog into a rabbit. That was strange indeed.
"She's at the heart of it. And Him." came the voice of Coyote. Bill didn't bother trying to look. When Coyote started talking, the vision was fading. He had to give him something to stick. "HeeHEE! Pain. He hurts. He hates. He Rages. He hunts. Because of her. Hates her. Loves her. Very crazy. HAhahahahA!" the voice came from all around.. maybe even inside him... "hunt him, Bison-Man! Find him! STOP HIM! AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"
Bill snapped back into his body, back into reality... he snorted in, feeling the scents rolling in his nose. He identified a familiar scent. He'd smelled it in the basement. The attacker. The demon. But another scent was with it. Female. Hints of dog and rabbit. Other notes... The girl from the vision. The one that changed into two things. That confused him. He'd have to talk to Jason about it. See if that rang any bells for him...