#Spiritual Companion

[cuubism]

pls do make angst out of it

I need no impetus to make angst about Dream + clothing choices.

--

"Dream."

Dream did not mean to flinch. Perhaps one never meant to flinch. It was an involuntary reaction, one that he should have been above in this form. He should have absolute control over how he manifested.

Except Hob's hand had landed on the back of his neck as he tried to pull Dream from his distant musings. Dream should be above such physical sensations. But he was composed of all fears. All thoughts and memories. The snapping grip of a lion's jaws on the neck of a gazelle. The vulnerability of an unprotected back.

So many dreams, now, and in the still-recent aftermath of his escape, they swirled and spilled within him like floodwaters.

His flinch away broke Hob's touch halfway through grazing a hand along Dream's jaw as he came around the back of the armchair where Dream was sitting. "Did I startle you?"

"Yes," said Dream. He settled deeper into his chair, into his soft sweater, no coat in Hob's flat, not when he did not wish to leave. But he wished he could manifest a higher neckline without it being obvious. "Yes, I was lost in thought."

Hob cupped his chin and tilted his head up and kissed him, and Dream did not flinch.

--

Dream loved Hob very much. The feeling had caught him by the throat not long after their reunion, when Hob had met him again shortly after Dream had resolved the vortex. Hob had taken his hand and looked with worry at the gash still gracing his palm, courtesy of the Corinthian's betrayal.

Dream was made of incorporeal thoughts, not flesh, and Hob had known this by then and still asked, "Can I bandage it for you?"

Dream had acquiesced more out of shock than need. Hob had held his hand, and wrapped it with experienced movements. He couldn't have known that the very act of bandaging sealed the cut in Dream's skin. Such was the power of dreams.

Dream fell quick and perilously with his hand pressed between Hob's, with Hob's kind eyes upon him.

He loved Hob with the pain of a knife stuck through his hand. He loved Hob and he knew that love was a bared throat. And he would bare it. For he wanted love. And he was not supposed to flinch.

--

He loved Hob, sitting in the safety of Hob's bed. Bare legs tangled up together, scratchy hair and strong muscle, and still the high-necked long-sleeved shirt Dream had taken to wearing. Hob kissing under his jaw, and slipping gentle hands under his shirt to brace his hips. The resonant dreams were loud--the exploration of youth and a first time together, the familiar bodies of a long-awaited reunion, the peace of an entangled old age--and for a while these layered memories distracted him from the fact that Hob still hadn't stripped his shirt off.

Perhaps. Hob saw more than Dream thought he did.

"You see much," Dream said, voice just edging on rough, and Hob paused, pulling away to look at him. Tilted his head in question, and Dream took Hob's hand, laid it along the collar of his shirt, below the jut of his throat.

Hob kept his hand there, a loose half-collar of Dream's neck, and said, "You always flinch when I come up behind you."

Dream looked somewhere around Hob's jaw, avoiding his eyes, and so had to rely on Hob's voice to imagine his expression. And Hob's voice was very gentle indeed.

"Do you know," he started, taking Dream's cheek in his other hand, "once upon a time--well, not so long ago, really, considering--I would jump at every loud noise? War gets in your head like that."

Dream knew of this, from the nightmares that were within him. He hurt to think of Hob like that. He laid a hand on Hob's thigh, though he was unsure if he was attempting to comfort Hob or merely grounding himself. "But no longer?"

"Not so much. It doesn't have to last forever." He stroked his thumb back and forth over Dream's cheek. "Helps that it's pretty rare for a loud noise going off in London nowadays to be a gunshot."

"But not impossible."

"In my experience, vanishingly few things are impossible, love."

Dream's capture should have been impossible. He had thought himself invulnerable. He had not seen the summoning coming. Had not seen a century of imprisonment coming, or Corinthian's betrayal, or Desire's. They had crawled silently up his back. Sunk their teeth into his spinal cord hard enough to snap.

"Do you feel like I'm going to hurt you, when you can't see me coming?" Hob asked.

He had failed indeed, if Hob thought so. "I do not think you will harm me."

"But do you feel it?"

Dream went to deny it, then thought. Of the prickling feeling that crept up his neck when he had his back to a room. To a doorway. The cold air on his shoulders before he pulled on one of Hob's sweaters, used it as a shield. "I do not like. To feel exposed."

Hob ran a hand through his hair. Dragged down to the nape of his neck and held him there. Not a threat, but a brace; stay close to me. Dream followed the touch and tucked his face in against Hob's shoulder. "Don't, then. I'll cover you."

"With shield and sword," Dream murmured, and Hob hummed in agreement. His hand was warm on the back of Dream's neck. Always, Hob was banishing the cold.

"I do not," Dream repeated, for it felt imperative that Hob know this, "think that you will hurt me."

Hob kissed his hair. "I know."

--

Love was showing one's back. Dream shivered as Hob slid into place behind him, thighs bracketing Dream's hips. As he wrapped his arms around Dream's torso, bare chest to Dream's bare back. He was so warm. His breath ruffled Dream's hair. Hob's arms caged him where he might have wanted to run. He could have disappeared to the Dreaming. But didn't.

Hob kissed the base of his neck. Kissed the bump of each vertebra. The vulnerable spot under his ear. Splayed his hands over Dream's belly. Another soft place.

This form was made of soft places. Outside, Dream swept his coat around himself to shield them. Fabric made for weak protection, but the less he was seen, the better. Dreams suffered in daylight.

Here, the soft places felt Hob's touch the most. Dream did not want to be soft, was not meant to be. But he did want Hob's hands, and the kisses placed along his throat. Always a conundrum, with Hob.

Dream did not reconcile it now. Instead he turned his head, pressed his lips to Hob's over his shoulder. Took Hob's hand and put it in his hair, encouraged Hob to tangle his fingers and pull, so that Dream's throat was bared, his balance thrown, so Hob could kiss and bite up his neck and hold him there.

He trembled against Hob's lips. Shook in his grasp. Dream knew the nightmare of a rabbit caught in a fox's teeth, and the dream of a fox with blood on its lips. But he was no rabbit, and no fox either. He could decide for himself if he wanted Hob to touch him, to pull the collar down.

Hob's teeth grazed his pulse. Dream whimpered, the sound loud in the quiet bedroom, and Hob shushed him. Stroked a hand along his throat. Dream loved him, and that he held him, and that he let Dream live on this boundary of discomfort so he might decide which way he wanted to fall, pain or pleasure. Love was risk-taking.

Dream leaned into Hob's palm, felt the pressure on his throat. His back to Hob's chest. Their bodies in alignment. Teeth to spine. Hob's body as a shield.

"How are you doing?" Hob whispered. His lips brushed Dream's ear, hair tickled his temple.

Dream let his limbs go loose that Hob might catch him. Love was a net.

"Good," he sighed, and tipped his head back.

[tcfactory]

Okay, but seriously, I have a mighty need for a Yue Qingyuan who came out of the cave something less than human. CW for body horror of the "bit like OG form Zhuzhi Lang, but dragon instead of snake and at least one third sword and very, very painful" variety.

They broke his body and the failed bond shattered his meridians and when he was nothing but broken broken broken, locked in the dark with only his terror and Xuan Su for company

he forgot, for a while, that he was meant to be human.

He was pain and regret and more pain and it's not like he could see himself in the pitch black of the cave. Something bled all over the walls, the floor and even the ceiling, and it could very well have been that neither sword nor boy knew how much blood there was supposed to be in the human body and that was all. It would have been strange, but not the strangest thing to ever happen. If some of the marks on the stone looked too much like clawmarks, that was only a coincidence. Some luckily spaced sword slashes, his Shizun insisted when Mu shidi pointed them out the day they came to fetch him.

He eventually put himself back together, after all. Xiao Jiu was expecting his Qi-ge, not whatever the thing thrashing against the walls of the cave was. He sheathed Xuan Su - he didn't remember the heavy scabbard, carved bone and eerily warm to the touch, but the metal inlay matched the sword so surely it was already there. He just forgot about it. His Shizun stared at the bleached bone, his face going pale as a sheet, and ordered everyone not to touch it, as if it would bite anyone who was not Yue Qi.

Xiao Jiu was his reason, the center of his world, so he put himself together to be the best and warmest big brother his Xiao Jiu cold ever want - and he would never talk about the thing in the cave. When he let himself think too long on it he was certain that Yue Qi died in the dark and he's whatever beast of pain and guilt that hatched from his corpse.

He couldn't bear to tell Xiao Jiu that Qi-ge wasn't strong enough to survive, not even for his sake, so he said nothing. Continues to say nothing. Whatever betrayal Xiao Jiu imagines, it couldn't possibly measure up to the enormity of Qi-ge's failure.

It takes a small thing to unmake him, in the grand scheme of things. He is walking with Shen Qingqiu from the latest Peak Lord meeting when something strange tickles the back of his throat. The tiniest bit of suspicious pollen that escaped the Medicine Peak's greenhouse, maybe a whiff of some rare beast Liu Qingge dragged back to show off to his disciples.

It's the strangest sneeze he ever experienced, one that seems to upend the very world, and when he focuses his eyes again Shen Qingqiu is staring at him with a wild mixture of fascination, anger and terror. Only when he opens his maws to ask what startled the other when he realizes that the shell of Sect Leader Yue has unraveled to show the beast he became in the dark.

Xiao Jiu was never meant to see him like this, never meant to discover the beast under the shell, so he never bothered to fix this part of himself. As far as he can tell from a cursory glance (Xiao Jiu makes a noise of distress when the beast tries to turn his head to take stock of himself, so he immediately turns back in alarm) he looks mostly like a dragon, albeit one that someone tried to put through a round or three of lingchi, skin and scales and flesh peeling from where he rubbed it raw against the walls of the cave. Makes sense, he thinks. He hasn't seen it in years, but there is a dragon etched into Xuan Su's blade.

Remembering his sword, he looks around in alarm to locate it.

"It's right there." Xiao Jiu sounds unusually queasy as he gestures towards the beast's chest. He twists his long neck until he can see and oh, there it is, safe and snug, sheathed between his ribs. He breathes deep to feel his lungs expand against it, twists around to see if any movement would dislodge it or not, but it's safe there. It doesn't hurt one bit. It belongs there.

"Thank you, Xiao Jiu." It comes out a little garbled, but he brightens up to discover that he can still speak, right until the moment Xiao Jiu makes a hysterical hiccuping sound. He made that noise before, when a horse kicked his Qi-ge and he thought the hoof had caved his skull in.

"Don't speak. Please." After a moment of silence he rallies anew and swiftly strips off his outmost robe so he can throw it over the beast's head. "And don't you dare take that off!"

It smells like Xiao Jiu, so the beast that was once Qi-ge is content to stay where he is while Shen Jiu turns into a hurricane of action - he drags Mu shidi and his medics over, yells at the disciples until they clear out one of the isolated stone gardens for him, sends runners to Wan Jian and to every peak's library pavilions to see if they can dig up anything useful - and all the while he is bombarding Mu Qingfang with questions, having soon sussed out that their shidi knows something about this situation.

While Xiao Jiu rakes poor Mu shidi over the coals the beast sits placidly among the many senior medics, listening to the Qian Cao head disciple mumble under her breath while she notes down all their findings. So, he's not quite a dragon, after all. Some parts of him are still clearly Yue Qi. That thought makes him smile a little as he looks down at one of his hands, rubbing the dried blood off his shattered claws. He broke all of them, trying to get out of the cave, as well as most of his bones. He is absently aware that he is in agony, but he can't fully comprehend what that means right now, so it's fine. No reason to make the medics worry over it.

The head disciple makes a very interesting noise of disbelief when someone reports that some of his bones are actually swords, apparently. They are not sure what his guts are made of, but based on the sudden, alarmed sounding whispers it's probably nothing pleasant.

They let him take the robe off his head, but they have hastily covered all the surfaces where he might see his own reflection and some of them look decidedly green whenever they look at him directly, so he buries his face back in the soft fabric and lets his world narrow down to the scent of his Xiao Jiu.

He must have dozed off, because when he wakes up all the medics have left. It's only him in the garden and a tired looking Xiao Jiu. He sits up to show the other that he's aware and listening.

"Qi-ge, what have you done to yourself?" Xiao Jiu looks angry and hurt and all the things Yue Qi doesn't want him to be. "All these years. If only you had told me! Didn't I deserve to know?!"

Yue Qi hangs his head in shame. Opens his mouth, but swallows the well-worn 'sorry' down before it could escape from between his cracked teeth.

At long last Xiao Jiu sighs. Then slowly, bashfully, spreads his arms. "Aren't you going to comfort me? I'm giving you permission, just this once. Come down here and hug me, Qi-ge."

Joy surges through Yue Qi and he collapses into Xiao Jiu's arms before he can think twice about it and he's back, he's as human again as he will ever be, two arms, two legs and two eyes brimming with tears as he clutches his Xiao Jiu.

Xuan Su clatters to the ground and Xiao Jiu clutches him right back, long nails hooking into his back like they never want to let him go. "Don't you dare scare me like that ever again! Stupid Qi-ge."

Yue Qi can't promise the impossible, can't bear to lie to his Xiao Jiu. But he murmurs the promise that he will try his best into the silk of Xiao Jiu's robes and that has to be good enough for now.

"We will work on it, together," Xiao Jiu orders indulgently and Yue Qi doesn't remember the last time he was this happy.

For the first time since the caves he feels that maybe the boy and the beast are the same thing after all. They have to be, to hold the same love.

[genderjester]

thought about this pose/composition and couldnt rest until i drew it

[objectsarebestest]

I’ve been struggling with this for a couple days now. I haven’t been ready to discuss it. But after a session with my therapist, I decided I think it would help to be open about what happened. To maybe seek support. Tw for object death

My bike is dead. I was riding it up a hill and the mechanism broke. I nearly fell off. I walked the bike back home. My dad took it to the bike repair shop. I didn’t come. I thought it would be an easy fix. My dad came back with no bike. He said the repair workers said it was unfixable. It had been thrown away. I wasn’t even there. In its final moments. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

We had such a close bond. Years of going on adventures together. But we weren’t close enough. Heck, I never even learned its name. I just referred to it as “the bike” or “my bike”. I never asked its name or helped it pick one out. I wish we could have been closer. Maybe we could have kissed. Yes, I didn’t even learn that I was attracted to it until it was far too late.

When the news broke, I tried to hurt myself. Banged my head against the bed frame. All I wanted to do was lie in bed. But I couldn’t. I had to pretend this was no big deal. If my family knew of the extent my POSIC+ experiences go to, I’m scared of how they would react. Tomorrow I have to go shopping for a new bike. I have to buy a replacement. And I have to pretend doing so doesn’t feel like getting stabbed.

I want to hold a vigil. I already prayed for my bike’s soul. But I want to give it a proper sendoff to whatever the object afterlife is. Whatever maze of sidewalks and forest trails and dirt roads lie beyond for it. I don’t know how to hold a vigil. I’ve done it before when my humidifier broke. And when my sandals got holes in them. I have experience. But I still never know what to do or what to say.

I feel ashamed to ask strangers on the internet for tips. It was my object companion. I should know how to honor it best. But I don’t want to bungle this. I want to do this properly. So please help. I need ideas to do this. Maybe it will bring me closure. Maybe I’ll feel happier. I just hope my bike will be happy.

[xerxeswitch]

Red Flags in Spirit Work

Pay in mind, these are my experiences on what I've seen and what I had experienced myself. Take everything with a grain of salt.

.... Spirit work is regaining a lot of popularity and I feel it's important to help others understand that discernment, and common sense are extremely important. Please, please practice discernment and take as much time to vet spirits and entities. Unfortunately, I have seen people who either didn't have spirit friends that they mentioned, or they were bamboozled. --- Here the top signs that it's probably not real, or you're being played: 1. They magically show up when you just read about them or watched things about them. (Hyper-fixation isn't always a sign, at least that's what I believe) 2. All of your "spirit companions" just want to jump your bones and they all look conveniently attractive to you. 3. They all have the same interests and morals as you. What's important to you may not be important to them. 4. All companions have the same personality. 5. They're all special versions of the species they came from. 6. They act and look like animated/fictional characters and protagonists. 7. They cater to every single emotion you have and justify your actions -- that's actually a sign it's a toxic spirit/entity if they're real.

8. Promoting that YOU are the main character.

9. Upon knowing them with barely any time in vetting, they say exactly what you want them to say to you -- which means they're probably not real or you're just self narrating over them. 10. If the quality of your life suddenly goes down without much explanation with endless bad luck or decrease in health condition, that's a serious problem for you may have a parasitic entity/spirit. 11. You bought a Perfect Sexy Vampire Lord named Voltor on Ebay or Etsy for $20.99 plus tax. --- Now, if we're talking thoughtforms, that's another story...but even with that thrown in, these concerns are still relevant.

[sammygender]

when me and my brother were first watching supernatural we noticed how like 90% of the demons were women (bc misogyny) and decided spn had its own system of gender where angels r men and demons r women. therefore upon ‘sam has demon blood!!’ reveal we decided this was basically the same as him having Girl Blood. and we would go back and forth doing lines except saying Girl Blood. (dean hates women which is why he hates the demon blood arc) (he hates women anyway so it makes sense). anyway. i think i should bring that back

[knightofhylia]

can be a romantic relationship with any time of spirit, doesn't have to be godspoused. No need to have an official ceremony either just like with real marriage lol

[o-wild-west-wind]

I gotta say that as a jane austen stan, it’s kind of fun to see how many of us are obsessed with our flag means death now because honestly…..yeah. we love a silly yet genuine period piece rom-com that’s got real stakes and makes love the point but is also written to be not-so-thinly-veiled commentary on gender politics, ft. drama that probably could’ve been resolved at least 12 times faster given the advent of phones. just with more murder and gay sex

[ravensmoonlitmagick]

Do you have a small, medium, or large family? Mine keeps growing and I love adding spirits I don't already have. White to black arts. I also have 3 spirits who show the newbies around and keep the family running smooth. I have groups in which their specific talents can help. And try to do tasks as much as possible. My family loves having things to keep them busy. And has asked me to send them tasks. How do you nurture your connection with all the spirits in your keep? I speak with them via telepathy (still working on this one), tarot, and pendulum. I invite them with me wherever I go. They have an open invite to come with me whenever wherever. I give them small offerings that keep us all happy and harmonious.

[rinbylin]

to the other shore 此岸与彼岸 *

[redbelles]

He stops, so she does too, albeit with a bit less grace. Then he grabs the sleeve of her coat and gently tugs her toward a bench with a quiet, “C’mere,” and it’s stupid, it’s ridiculous, but it gives her goosebumps. “Sit down, it’s gonna snow.”

Rory’s breath catches in her throat. Absurdly, ridiculously, she thinks: oh no. Dares to ask, “How can you tell?” and sincerely hopes his answer is something sarcastic and obvious like I checked the forecast this morning, how else?

Instead: “I can smell it. Sit.”

lux et veritas ↳ a jess goes to yale au by @pheebebuffy

[iorekbyrinson]

thoughts on bcs characters and their pullman-universe daemons

James McGill - Weasel or stoat family. The long sleek shape of the mustelid can squirm through any hole after its quarry, taking down prey several times its size. Folklore associations with being untrustworthy, unscrupulous, despite its diminutive size. Also known as the family from which Pantalaimon, daemon of Lyra Silvertongue, heralds from - associations of the protagonist.

Kim Wexler - Jackal. A desert animal with associations of the howling prairies, independence, a looming threat in a familiar canid form. However, jackals have a little known quality of centring the majority of their social behaviour around a monogamous relationship; marking out territory together, forsaking packs mostly for the pair bond. Cunning, determined, opportunistic.

Chuck McGill - Porcupine. Like all Rodentia, porcupines are intelligent and frugal, not carnivorous by nature but certainly with enough natural advantages. Unusual tree-dwellers that live far above the rest of the creatures on the forest floor, the porcupine's most notorious trait are its barbs, shaped so that they stick in the skin and cannot be pulled out.

Howard Hamlin - Golden retriever. Exactly what it appears to be to a fault, the ubiquitously loved animal has a few significant traits; it is above all a retriever, an animal that works in tandem with a master to seek out prey and skilfully return the prize, and any attempts to isolate this intensely social breed go awry - the animal withers away.

Nacho Varga - Rusty-spotted cat. The smallest wildcat in the world, to mistake this feline for its domesticated counterpart is a mistake; it is a predator of its lands, feeding on rodents and any creature beneath it, and has the hallmark of being one of the most successful predators relative to its size in the world. However, this elusive, nocturnal little wildcat has its weaknesses as a daemon; it will not stop until it is at the top of its food chain, even if it exists in an ecosystem where it will be swallowed alive. It has the typical feline traits of aloofness, independence, and particularly beautiful eyes.

Lalo Salamanca - Vampire bat. Largely associated with the handsome, deadly supernatural creatures of mythology, vampire bats do, in truth, hold blood as the superior tonic above all, and are also vastly social creatures; grooming, feeding, and raising families within a group that has strong ties to family members, but also makes room for non-relatives too. They hunt entirely in the dark. Like most of the bat family, their need to communicate means their high pitched chirps are constant when flying through the night sky. An unusual daemon for an unusual man; be watchful of his reflection in mirrors. It may not always be there.

Gus Fring - Coati. A daemon can sometimes settle in the appearance of an animal of meaning to an individual; and the mercurial and mysterious Gustavo Fring has inferred the coati's importance as much in his fateful recollection. However, the coati is also no insignificant animal; it is preyed upon by nearly every major predator in the Americas, but the coati has a tough hide attached to its underlying muscles, making it extremely difficult for teeth to get a hold. It is a contained and somewhat elegant looking small mammal with a handsome pair of spectacles around its dark, round eyes, and a reputation for intelligence rivalling that of its opportunistic cousin, the raccoon.

Mike Ehrmantraut - Badger. Whether of the European badger flavour; forest-bears of quiet and solitary pursuits, devoted to the burrows of their families, or of the American type, the fearsome ratel or honey badgers that face down mountain lions without a second look, badger daemons carry the traits of strength, perseverance, and an undeniable aggression that make them the animal that never backs down. Badgers construct setts that go deep below the earth, a vast underground system of resources that belies the staid, unemotional appearance of these creatures. Man + mountain indeed.

[higherhell]

Ryoichi Endo - Soft Ballet, Vietnam (January 23, 2024 - Clip Studio Paint)

Rough around the edges, but I was overcome with feelings about That One Performance of Vietnam by Soft Ballet yesterday (as I often am) and had to finally do something with it after wanting to for ages. Call it an exploratory test I suppose, as I definitely intend to return to this subject later, my work here is not done... (would love to go for a more dramatic angle for example, and higher detail...there are so many breathtaking shots in that performance it's overwhelming) But for now I figure I may as well share, since so little of my work lately has been share-able, haha (perils of ambitious secret personal projects, rip lol)

[smolmilkling]

Hyzenthlay the blood cleric of [redacted], friend (?) of the party, and woman who is capable of a normal conversation.

[xerxeswitch]

My Unpopular Opinion about 'Deities' (mini vent:)

I strongly believe not all "gods" are healthy, infinite, benevolent, selfless, flawless, or all powerful who deserve special treatment just because of a human constructed status.

I treat anyone accordingly upon how they treat me, and you don't get respect unless you respect my space.

...

This is coming from someone who respects Anubis as a 'person' I connected with because he was respectful and mindful, and we just got along.

That being said, I don't believe in worship or even the concept of a "god" but just the status of celebrities.

From the ask box here and in metaphysical groups, I had too many people insisting to me that I should just bow down to them just because they're "gods." If I don't agree with them, a few tried to send these "gods" to smite me because I'm a non-believer.

You believing in a deity doesn't automatically make you better or special than other witches whom might be secular.

It makes me roll my eyes when I hear, "Gods are gods! You don't get to talk about them that way!"

The way I work, I need to get up and personal and not greet them ONLY because they're "gods/goddesses. But as people I just get along with.

I can understand some 'deities' are important in certain cultures that built it in the first place, but I just then see it as that -- culture/religion. Since I don't believe in the concept a 'god/goddess' I don't have to believe in their 'god/goddess', but I can still acknowledge what they got for it as strictly their culture.

...

I'm glad you adore what you do, and keep doing it if it gives you meaning and happiness. I respect what you're into at a healthy balance, as long as you respect mine. Please, everyone is different.

You wouldn't be any better as a proclaimed, radical Christian tried to shame you for not submitting to the Lord.

...

--

Edit:

I received a couple of threats just from this post alone in my ask box.

(One said she'll send Aphrodite to give me nightmares and sickness, while the other got really upset and threatened me with actual violence to change my mind)

If you are representing your "gods/goddesses" through how you're acting like a derelict -- I'm glad you have so much faith in your 'gods' to protect you, but nothing will shield you from the consequences of being an intolerant, toxic person. I'm sure they'll step aside and let things slip...unless the "god/goddess" is toxic themselves.

[tamras-shieldmaiden]

If Lin went on a spiritual journey what animal/creature would be her guide and why?

How about Kuvira?

Do you think either of the ladies would resist the help of their guide?

I wonder which part is the more complicated for Lin here, the animal companion as a guide, or the idea of going on a spiritual journey. Neither should be easy for our favorite stoic metalbender since she’s a textbook representation of her element, but precisely that's why a spiritual journey might do her good. So, what animal could be her guide? For Lin, I was thinking of a bird, like a hawk or a raven. Why? No specific reason, I just think it matches her, and I don't think she would refuse her companion's assistance since it has the evident advantage of flight and keen eyes that see everything from a distance.

For Kuvira, being the big Mononoke Hime fan that I am, I've always loved Ashitaka's mount and companion, Yakul, so I think either a Fox antelope or a cat deer could be a nice choice for animal companion for her. Why not a fox or a wolf or a big feline? Because I think the quickness and agility of the antelope is a better match for her. I think Kuvira might resist the idea of a spiritual journey at first, but the animal companion would be a selling point in favor of the trip. Another very grounded and stubborn character, she too would benefit greatly from a spiritual journey.