Nick awoke from a deep sleep, picking up his phone to check the time. He hadn’t been asleep for very long, but he felt rested. His dream had been a very vivid one, almost like he was in the room with Charles and Ryan as this odd yet interesting ritual took place. It didn’t seem likely that it had been real, but it certainly felt like it had been. He wondered, as he got up, if there were any meaning to it, ultimately deciding to change his morning routine for the day, skipping his workout in favor of things more important on a personal scale.
Before showering or getting breakfast, he went downstairs to the Sanctum, where he was now keeping his altars, and worked on cleaning the area. While he usually took care of the tools, this was a basic housecleaning – sweeping, dusting, and the like, as well as readjusting the altars as needed. He took great care in handling the items on the altar themselves, and when he was finished, he lit some sage in order to smudge the room, and cleanse everything of any impurities.
With the cleaning complete, he headed back upstairs to eat, then showered, treating the experience as a sort of ritual bathing – taking his time to get clean and in the proper mindset for what he was about to do. Once clean, he dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and pulled on a shirt, then headed downstairs to the sanctum, closing the door behind him. He put his phone on silent, then looked into the supply closet in order to collect a few things.
He first approached his secondary altar. In a small bowl in front of his statue of the goddess Brigid, he left a small sprig of heather, then thanked her for being a presence in his life, and blessing him with creativity. Next, he placed a couple of old coins in the offering dish for the god Cernnunos, and thanked him as well. Finally, he moved to his primary altar, toward the statue of his primary deity – that of the goddess Mórrígan. In the offering dish for her, he poured some red wine, and then, rather than thank her, he invoked her.
Mórrígan, Mórrígan Three times Three,
Hear the words I ask of Thee.
Grant me vision, Grant me power,
Cheer me in my darkest hour.
Mórrígan, Mórrígan Raven Queen,
Round and round the Hawthorn green.
Queen of beauty, Queen of Art,
Yours my body, Yours my heart.
All my trust I place in thee,
Mórrígan, Mórrígan Be with me. . .
He waited until he was sure he felt her presence, and then spoke to her. “Mórrígan, I ask that you guide and protect me and mine in the days to come, should you see fit. Help me accomplish that which lay ahead of me.” He then added a little more red wine to the offering, and sat back, closed his eyes and meditated a while, until he felt her presence lift. Whether she deemed him worthy of help or not remained to be seen. One things he feared, to an extent, was if she demanded shadow work from him. If that were the case, she would guide him into the deepest, darkest chasms of himrself, then lift him up on her wings. He sighed. He’d really rather prefer to try sex magic sometime (who wouldn’t?), but things were what they were, and he should listen, whatever she may ask.
His meditation over, he put items away, but left the offerings alone until tomorrow, and headed out of the sanctum and back upstairs, to work on the tasks he had set for himself. Hopefully, for some of it at least, he wouldn’t have to be patient much longer.