#the pagan parcel

[godhandler]

See No Evil 

| The mysterious nobleman Noritoshi Kamo is looking to purchase a mansion in Tokyo City. You’re the solicitor sent to aid him and you do, it’s just that… he has odd habits. He talks all night and sleeps all day, doesn’t allow mirrors in his castle, can summon wolves at a whistle. And lately you’ve come to suspect that he’s not letting you leave. |

| #1 | noritoshi kamo x reader | bram stoker’s dracula au | masterlist | heavy religious symbolism, aged terminology | 1k words |

[your journal]

3 May 1876– Left Yokohama at 8.35 PM. It is a most wondrous machine, the creation of the finest European minds, the railway train! It arrived as a caterpillar on a leaf-edge, chugging soot onto my freshly laundered cottons, carriage upon carriage in its bowels! I hardly had time to admire the clear window panes, the tea-cup holders, the cushioned seat before I arrived in Tokyo, less than an hour at that. Ah, the modern era!

Had a most delightful plate of grilled beef and a mug of steaming coffee with milk at the Time Vessel Inn, stayed the night. I left Edo years ago and returned to Tokyo– the men now wear western hats over their kimono, streets are wide as London’s, concrete buildings as of New York in Ginza, streetcars driven by women who smoked. Father would have a heart attack had he been here. 

Walked to the post office, received letter from Mr. Hawkins, smoked too much enroute to walk back myself, took a rickshaw. The puller, a rickety old Okinawan, set his sly eyes on the cross round my neck, and I promptly put it inside. These scoundrels are untrustworthy at the best of times, pagan at worst. Shogun men come, you no Christian okay? – and he urged me to agree till I did. Lord, I do hope it is better in the prefectures. 

4 May– In the interests of time I am taking horse mounts instead of a carriage. Mr. Hawkins, bless that man, has arranged my lodgings along the way to Hokkaido, says his letter. He has further parceled me cash in advance, stored at those lodgings, so that I may never run dry. Among the Japanese the sympathy I could never glean I am granted oodles from a White man in Exeter. 

My client is a deposed shogun of the Kamo Clan, Noritoshi-sama. Imagine my disbelief when Mr. Hawkins assigned me to such a lucrative business for my first solicitor work! I have prepared well, again and again, and I shall not let him down. 

Had miso soup over rice and eggs. (Mem. Get recipe). 

Left Tokyo at 4.30 AM, reached Fukushima by noon. Exchanged horses before the narrow pass through the Abukuma Mountains. Now another long stretch till Moroika in the Iwate prefecture. I fear that despite my young age my back is not built for this torment. Onwards we ride again! Unfortunately!

Farmers plant rice in those ankle-deep pond-fields. Some things never change. 

Reached Moroika 7 PM, exchanged horses. The countryside is as I remember it, but I am far too exhausted to be poetic about it. Dined and lodged at the ancient Tengen Hotel, collected the cash parcel. Fireflies outside my window.  

5 May– Left Moroika at 6.30 AM. Another 6-7 hour ride to the northernmost tip of mainland Japan, this little town called Oma in Aomori. 

 I can see my freezing breath-smoke as I write with shaking hands, slouched on my horse. My legs, back, belly, shoulders, arms, neck, even hands hurt. I cannot grip my reins anymore. I think of Mr. Hawkins, the cash parcel at the next lodge. Perhaps I was not made to be a solicitor. 

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.

I have made up my mind. I shall show Noritoshi-sama the old Chinese mansion, vestiges of a former noble time. I wondered if I should instead display the Buddhist temple-turned-castle near Roppongi, but I believe he should prefer the outskirts of Tokyo more. Well, the decision lies with him, after all. 

Imagine if I ruined it all up! Barged into the shogun’s bedroom and demanded that he buy the disco club instead! Or the new English townhouses! I wonder if he would cut me with his longsword or have his horses trample me. 

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

I am too giddy now. I can hardly keep my eyes open for I am tired, tired. And cold. The temperature has dropped like dead flies the more I ride. My thoughts, cockroaches released from a jar, run amok.

Truly, I want to sit on my horse and weep. I cannot bear this any longer. 

The farther I go from the beating heart of Tokyo the more this country vexes me. There is nothing but trees. No people, only trees and dirt for miles. Red-leaf maple, spruce, oaks, beech. Cold. 

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. 

There is more humanity in filthy streetcar exhaust smoke than here. More God in the shaved cunts of night-bar transvestites than in this desolation. I would drink the sewers under Tokyo than travel any longer. 

Amen.

3 PM– Reached Oma. Had a heavy lunch full of oysters, chicken, crab and drank half a bottle of sake. It is hilarious how shocked the waitress was when I sent for my fourth bowl of rice! 

Reading back on my earlier notes I feel that I mayhaps overreacted slightly. It wasn’t that bad, honestly. I just am not used to physical exertion. 

Lounged about the beach till 4.35 PM. Ferry to Hakodate reached a little before 8 PM. Hokkaido finally! Tired, will fall asleep in my suit, no energy to bathe or change. 

Noritoshi-sama, man of my miseries, I meet you tomorrow. I have never met nobility before (Mem. Practice deep bowing), but I hear from the waitress that he is rumored to be so handsome. How wonderful it will be if he turns out to be an armour-clad samurai! Perhaps he keeps ninjas about his castle. Perhaps he is lonely, as I am, and takes me to be his bride. I cannot even write this with a straight face, I cannot stop giggling at the thought now! It would be a perfect romance, a Cinderella story! I would certainly not have to work a job or travel anymore. 

Suddenly my tiredness is -whoosh- gone! Oh be calm, fluttering heart, be calm, excited mind! I know that I shall not be able to sleep a wink tonight despite my fatigue. I await him so eagerly, the noble Kamo!

[permit of entry to Hokkaido]

Passenger - ln yn  Date of Entry - 5th May 1876

Departure - 4.37 PM Arrival - 7.45 PM 

Permit Available Till - 5th August 1876

Purpose of Visit - Business (Real Estate)

I hereby attest that I am of sound mind, of major age, and aware of the laws regarding Hokkaido Island.

I shall leave Hokkaido Island before or on the date of expiry of this permit, failing which the local authorities shall take action. 

All the information provided on this form is true and accurate to the best of my knowledge. 

Have a great stay!

Signed, ln yn

a/n: reader is jonathan harker coded. this is a homage to bram stoker’s masterpiece. here is the route described (i ensured the travel times are period accurate!), and here is the eventual lair of the vampire. instead of 1880s england and transylvania, i moved the setting to japan during the same time period. early meiji era japan (1868-1912) was a time of intense conflict and confusion in society: westernised modernity vs japanese tradition, shoguns vs the emperor, shinto and buddhism vs christianity. can you guess which side the reader falls and where does kamo? 

the way i see it, vampirism is about not letting go. its ennui, its sameness. the same endless life where you can consume only one thing (blood) and walk in the same moonlight. of course vampires would fall in love easy. besides, kamo = blood = vampire. made perfect sense to me.

i actually did a lotttt of research for this and found a tons of cool stuff. please check them out! Tokyo | Railways  | Food culture | Christanity | End of the Shogunate | Transport | Religion | Divider

fun facts: 1. the train that the reader takes here is the first passenger train of japan which opened on september 12, 1872. 2. influenced by the west, meat products and milk was highly encouraged diet at this time. miso soup was esp looked down upon. 3. ginza was the fancy area of tokyo, look at some old pics of the time here! 4. racism against okinawans was and still is unfortunately present. 4. christianity was persecuted and repressed throughout the tokugawa shogunate and remained so until the japan’s isolationist policies ended about 1850s. 

as the author i am both irreligious and an atheist. honestly id shank god if i met it. all the religious stuff here is for the narrative and nothing more. 

[angelkitty32001]

For the 70 questions meme, numbers 26 and 62! 😘

Hey sweetie 😘😘

26. What am I craving right now?

A hug, I think that's the main thing I'm craving tbh.

62. What makes me happy?

Sunshine. Shopping for fun things (pagan markets are the best fun). Having fun with lovely people and excellent food. Being able to whitter about things that I love. Gorgeous scents. Exciting parcels. Dancing. Wearing things that make me feel joyous. My friends having success. My cats doing ridiculous things. The sea.

Thank you for that last one, I needed to think about that 💜💜

[cooledtured]

REIGN: The Conqueror — Madhouse Studios’ Medieval Futurist Anime

Anime ahead of its time, REIGN: The Conqueror (アレクサンダー戦記 [Arekusandā Senki]) is a Madhouse Studios (One Punch Man, Death Note, Trigun) gem deep in its back catalog. Based on a novel by best-selling Japanese author 荒俣 宏 (Hiroshi Aramata), it’s the story of the rise and ensuing battle against Persia of the ancient world’s greatest emperor, Alexander the Great.

We’ve an engaging cast of characters which are all, at least in name and relation to him, accurate to ancient accounts. Onscreen are King Philip II of Macedon and his pagan queen Olympias, both rearing Alexander to one day assume the throne. Alexander finds adventure alongside many friends including Ptolemy I, his most trusted general of the fearsome and mighty Macedonian army. Carrying Alexander to victory is his famous black stallion war horse, Bucephalus, who takes down soldiers and assassins with golden armored mechanical muzzle and hooves. Also in this epic is Alexander’s personal tutor and famous ancient philosopher of the Western World, Aristotle, driving story subtext and plot. In fact, many memorable philosophers are there, such as the cynic-philosopher Diogenes “The Dog” and the ghost (or “essence”) of Plato.

One interesting dynamic to REIGN: The Conqueror is we never quite know if we’re watching the past or the future unfold. It subverts any familiar timeline, suspended in a surreal and timeless period where fantasy elements abound, such as shapeshifting spirit alchemist factions (like the Pythagorean Cult, bent on hopes to assassinate Alexander), cloud resident titans and elemental gods. While undercurrents of electricity and advanced technology are part of this world, battles are won by horse cavalries, swords, spears and shields. Landscapes are adorned with moving walkways and extreme architecture. Flying machines course the sky. This is medieval futurism at its best, and Madhouse Studios probably couldn’t have chosen a better art designer to create such hypnotizing and impossible juxtaposition. That animator’s name is Peter Chung, the very same Aeon Flux legend himself.

Perhaps none of the ethereal themes would have been so elegantly animated, or as moving and entertaining, without Peter Chung (IG: @peter_k_chung) at the helm of this multi-nation anime project. Chung’s animation is influential for many. Those less familiar with his work, you might be surprised to know his portfolio includes some of the best and most popular animation of the last 35 years. Notwithstanding his well-known MTV series, Aeon Flux, his animation and collaboration is responsible for the original Transformers TV show, the title opening sequence for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and also co-designing Nickelodeon’s Rugrats. Chung’s art direction and contribution is part and parcel to the stunning visual imagery and magic you experience in REIGN: The Conqueror.

I could imagine this 13 part series landing perfectly among today’s anime and post-Game-of-Thrones era. But it aired on WOWOW and Adult Swim a little too ahead of its time in ’99 and ’03. REIGN: The Conqueror challenges watchers to sit back and enjoy the beauty of anime that’s packed with style and memorable story, makes you feel anime in a visceral way. It will surprise and intrigue you.

Enjoy the series on YouTube here!

JEFFREY WELLS | Writer

POP-COOLEDTURED SPECIALIST

818–394–0023 | cooledtured.com | info@cooledtured.com

[elysiumxii]

"You look like shit" Brows had risen as Hypnos watched the fellow deity sit down at his bar, the usually so energetic and quite literally bright Helios now just a shell of what seemed to be exhaustion. "Don't tell me you're getting too much dick"

“Ugh, Hypnos-“ Helios groans as he holds up a hand and just needs the other diety to stop talking. Even the sound of his voice, as subtly laced with his effects of slumber as it is, was enough to nearly have the sun god tumble off his bar stool.

Three nights in a row he had been visited by Sei’s disembodied soul. With its sweet affections and boiling jealousy… not to mention it was coming up on the holiday season and despite being a pagan god, Helios loves Christmas! He had so much to do. Making hot chocolate parcels for Sei’s dance school, organising both his and Sei’s gift giving to their friends and family, because the other was useless, and countless Christmas fairs and markets that he wanted to visit. He was run off his feet when awake and getting no sleep at night!

He managed a nap at the back of Sei’s dance class rehearsal this morning but that seems to be the last bit of shut eye he got in 2 days!

“It’s fine I’m just… just a bit tired is all-“ he grumbles before smirking as he glances up at him. “I wish, anyway… I keep nodding off!” It was hard to get in the mood when as soon as his head hits pillow he’s out like a light, only to be woken a little later by Sei’s soul once the dancer had fallen asleep too.

“Do you do hot chocolate here?” He asks and looks around the bar, not one for alcohol, but he does love a hot cocoa!

[angelandgypsy]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Amazonite Natural Gorgeous Gemstone Obelisk Tower.

[theelectriccauldron]

Problematic Wicca

I’ve read some posts about Gardnerian Wicca being problematic, and it’s often the people within bringing their trash to it rather than it having issues as a religion. It was born out of the Edwardian era and thus carries with it the baggage of older men wanting to be ‘rebellious’ to their class and station with a little nudity and a little spanky spanky which Gardner and companions were fans of. It is also a very binary gender oriented path where male and female are required in certain positions or circles can’t even be cast. Ritual nudity is either an issue or not as is the spanky spanky aspect and it’s up to the individual  seeker to take it or leave it. The gender issues are also up to the individual and their coven as a group to decide how they approach the ideas of gender in their spiritual practice. Most Neo-Wicca/101 books will tell you to run far from a group ‘requiring’ nudity, but it’s part and parcel of Gardnerian work.

If one is inclined to a more ‘churchy,’ more structured path, Gard could be what they seek as it is often formal with a liturgy and the routine of every Gard doing the same thing on more or less the same ritual nights. It also has the benefit of its lineages of covens and priests and priestesses being taken very seriously, and your work and experience is able to be vetted - often traceable back to Gardner himself. Some may see this as a way of establishing credibility and standing in a community that is often awash in, ‘... I just call myself that because it sounds neat..!’

The issues with Neo-Wicca, for me, often come down to the lack of their being any rules at all. It’s seekers confusing being a witch with being Wiccan. Wicca is (often/not always) a secret, initiatory religion that has rules to follow, and it has rituals held at specific times of the year. It has a set way of performing a ritual/circle casting, and it has specific ideas/ethics on spell casting. Witchcraft/being a witch - as a path separate from Wicca - is what you make of it, what works for you, out of your own culture and lifestyle and occupation as generation upon generation of people have done before you. This is found in every culture the world over. If you said, I’m a witch because I said so and I do what I want to do, I’d say, that’s fine - good for you. If you said, I’m a Wiccan just because I said so and I do what I want, I’d say, no, you’re not.

I would also say that there are Wiccans who don’t call themselves witches, and obviously, being a witch does not automatically make you Wiccan... and there are Gardnerians who would say, if you’re not Gard, you’re not really Wiccan because words mean things. Even the word pagan (used in a modern context) becomes hotly contested with a host of meanings, feelings, and ideas attached to it when all it means is a path that is not one of the big 3 Abrahamic religions.

So if anything is ‘problematic,’ it is often the lack of understanding, research, and/or education into the esoteric path an individual thinks they are following.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Ficino's whole engagement in the Petrarchan project of Philosophers/Writers Preserve Letters for Posterity and Edification is interesting. He obviously approached it with his Platonic spin, and was doing different things to others in terms of stylistic choices - the "poetic frenzied" approach to his writing which gives it that sinking-into-it lyrical quality was his effort to emulate Plato's own poetic style as well as aiding his endeavour to activate the entirety of people's intellect. So you're whole mind is moving towards understanding the Good/Truth, it's not just a purely Reason/Logos based activity. It's poetic, it's spiritual, it's logical, it's vibes~

Aside: Most of Ficino's letters, like most letters of the time, were meant to be read out loud. Part of the Platonic journey of self-knowledge included participating in the little games of word play and meaning-making that Ficino did. (Reading in general was an oral exorcise in his lifetime. Ficino alone in his study with his books would still have read them out loud, if perhaps quietly or in a murmur. The idea of silent reading is relatively new.) /end aside

His not including people's replies was part and parcel of the genre, tbf - that was sort of the expected norm (of course Ficino liked to transgress in his own way, so if anyone was going to be like "here is twelve volumes of me and Giovanni but trust me, it's educational" it would be him). Those replies that we have the most of are from Lorenzo de' Medici, which is pure Ficino playing the patronage game. The other few responses include one or two from Angelo, Pico, and Cosimo (I feel like I'm forgetting someone but regardless, it would only be one or two letters from them).

All that said. I agree that it remains interesting that we only get one Giovanni response out of twelve volumes of letters (eleven in our time, twelve in Ficino's). Ficino wrote the most to Giovanni out of everyone - one would think that aside from his patron, he'd include at least a few more from his most especial friend.

I had always put it down to Ficino respecting consent and privacy of those replying to him. Ficino can decide what to put in of his own words, but people writing back to him might not want their stuff memorialized for all to see and critique.

I had not considered that the issue might lie in Giovanni just...not being careful. That Giovanni was more willy-nilly with his responses because he knew they were for Ficino's eyes alone and so he could be more bold in any heretical ideas or pagan leanings or queerness in general. But that makes sense!

When we read Giovanni's letter to Marsilio, it's striking in how different their styles are - which is fun in and of itself - but also I can see the argument to be made for perhaps Giovanni being less cautious than Ficino in his wording therefore at a greater risk from the Church going "woah there mate, let's take a look at that, maybe you should come to Rome for a holiday".

Giovanni Cavalcanti to Marsilio Ficino, the Platonic Philosopher. In my opinion you sometimes esteem certain things very highly, and, because you so esteem them, on that account you fear them. Although such things should be valued a very, very little, nevertheless, I think that by so great a man as you they should be valued even less. So, my Marsilio, you will not complain to me of Saturn's malice any more. By Hercules, the stars can do us no harm; they cannot, I say, because they do not wish to. Moreover, for heavenly beings, to wish is to be able. Again, under what law might they harm us, the sons of the highest Good? For they are led by those who draw their origin solely from that same highest Good. And those most fortunate ones impel the stars in their circuits entirely in accord with the principle of the Good itself. [...]

First para' of Giovanni's reply to Marsilio complaining, Again, about Saturn causing his latest depressive episode.

(This letter was likely written circa 1475/76ish. Ficino would have been around 42 or 43, Giovanni 31 or 32 for an idea of their ages when Giovanni is bopping around going BY HERCULES at people. They've known each other for roughly 10(ish) years at this point - give or take.)

There is a thrust to Giovanni's writing that is more meaty, in a way, than Marsilio's. Which makes sense, Giovanni was born, bred, educated, and trained to be a merchant and a politician. Being more forthright in his writing therefore tracks. We also know he was raised in the knightly class, jousts, has more of a martial air about him than Marsilio ever did.

But what I really like about this intro paragraph is both the clear openness between them and Giovanni's use of "by Hercules".

"In my opinion you sometimes esteem certain things very highly, and, because you so esteem them, on that account you fear them." This is a banger of an opening line. It says so much in such an economical fashion. Like, he could have just ended it there. Clearly there is such trust and love between them that he feels he can go right into a bit of a critique of Marsilio - a loving one! you can hear Giovanni's love - but it is a request for Marsilio to do a bit of a perception check. An act, really, of trying to ground Marsilio.

Then there's the "by Hercules!". Oh my god you nerd. You slightly rough and tumble nerd. We never really hear Marsilio a) mention the gods in that fashion ever and b) Marsilio doesn't really do "blue language" or anything even approximating it. With the literal exception of his being nasty about Luigi Pulci to the Medici brothers, but even that was just creative insults that make a pun of Pulci's surname.

But here's his beloved hero being sweetly exasperated with him! By Hercules Marsilio get it together! Saturn is fine! It isn't going to hurt you!

I just love the glimpse into Giovanni that we get - a man who is happy to push back against Marsilio, to try and hold him to reason, who gets annoyed, who is very forthright in his opinions and not afraid to state them, who is also loving and caring and wants Marsilio to be happy. He also clearly knows Marsilio so well, with the jesting request at the end that Marsilio sing a hymn to Saturn to apologize for blaming the planet for his depression when it is Saturn who has given him his intelligence, memory, reason etc.

There is also a bit of sly humour in there. Giovanni makes a reference to Marsilio's "robust and healthy body" which we know Marsilio did not have. Being the guy who seemed regularly ill and was known as That Guy Who Has Whatever Is Going Around. (Yet he caught plague in 1479(ish) and survived?? Miracles, man.) Giovanni, of course, means Marsilio's intelligence/his mind in this but it is a bit of cheeky humour. And a jest I think you would only make if you are intimate with Marsilio (granted, maybe others did as well. We can't say for certain. Marsilio certainly made jokes about his small size (short and thin, he says about himself in a disparaging way in a few letters) and poor health, so maybe it was fine for others to touch on it? idk).

Anyway, it's such a delightful glimpse. And I can see through it the argument that Giovanni might have been more blunt and less careful in his letters. So when they're discussing things like the use of talismans or the idea of fate/astrology for the purpose of divination or calling down the power of the planets etc. Giovanni might have just been super blunt.

Also! we know Marsilio wrote plenty of correspondence in Tuscan. He just didn't include much of it in his intellectual volumes. (Opera omnia has some tuscan letters - one to his siblings exhorting them to be better to their parents which lol and another to his parents consoling them on the death of his brother Anselmo who died in 1462 I want to say.)

ok ok ok I'm done.

all I wanted to say really was yes!! give me all the thoughts on Giovanni and Marsilio!!! Giovanni who is so absent from not just the letters but also the broader historical record. By Hercules, the man is a ghost haunting us all with his silence.

One thing that I’ve been trying to articulate in my own brain about Marsilio Ficino’s letters is a question of audience. Yes, he never straight-up says he’s gay and that Giovanni and he are engaged in more than Platonic philosophy. He also never straight up admits to doing magic, so far as I’ve seen, but was a fairly well-known practitioner.

And that’s because this isn’t a collection of letters someone else put together and published posthumously the way many letter collections are. He published them himself. He published twelve volumes of his own personal correspondence. So he and he alone chose the letters, and he chose them knowing who might read them.

And despite that there are risky letters. There are letters that reference magic, astrology, his desire for other men, all the sort of stuff that the Inquisition could come sniffing around for. He walked a very narrow tightrope in his publications, and his letters were no different.

And I think that may be most exemplified by what he omitted. Yes, he omitted a lot of day-to-day correspondence (all the letters were ostensibly supposed to be dialogues and thoughts on philosophy). But he also omits a great number of the letters from his correspondents. I think Giovanni is the prime example of this. Marsilio publishes so many letters from him to Giovanni. The only reason they decrease in later volumes, from what I understand, is that they started writing couples’ letters together instead. Because they were living together a good chunk of the time.

But how many letters from Giovanni to Marsilio do we have? ONE.

Why is that? Is Giovanni the world’s worst correspondent, or was Marsilio much more cautious about publishing the replies to his letter than he was publishing his own works? If he got in trouble for publishing his own letters, that was one thing, but if he got a friend in trouble? If he got the man he loved in trouble?

So Giovanni is noticeable in his absence. In the letters that prompted Marsilio to reply but that we never get to read, and whatever responses he sent back to what we can read. We can’t know what he said, but I am inclined to believe that, if Marsilio is omitting all but one of them, perhaps Giovanni wasn’t quite as cautious in his use of allegory and careful language. Perhaps, for him, there was only one person who was ever the intended audience of his letters, and Marsilio respected that.

I feel like this caution, this crushing knowledge that Marsilio’s worst enemies could also read his letters, and that he chose those letters accordingly (or edited them accordingly), should always be taken into account when reading his correspondence.

So, yes. Marsilio was a philosopher and a priest and a doctor. He was also a gay wizard.

[ristoria]

We’re baaaaaaack. 

[all-about-the-tea-parties]

It’s Imbolc guys.

It started on January 31st at sunset and it will end on February 1st at sunset.

You will see a lot of non-Irish pagans saying it’s from Feb 1st - Feb 2nd. They are wrong.

There’s a reason Halloween is October 31st. It’s called “The festival *of* Samhain” meaning the festival celebrating the beginning of Samhain, which naturally starts on Samhain Night/The night of Samhain/the night that Samhain begins; or Oiche Shamhna (popularly anglicised as Halloween). Samhain is Irish for November.

Every Irish festival begins on the last day of the previous month. In all likelihood, because you’re celebrating an end of one thing and a beginning of another. The liminal divide between both. Stepping from one season to the next. They didn’t view day and night like we do, as part and parcel of each other. The night is a liminal space, the space between one day and another. (Idk if they broke it into a 24 hour cycle or if days only counted when sunlight shined, but considering newgrange, probably).

Anyways, just a friendly reminder of the plethora of misinformation about the internet due to a lack of understanding of past cultures viewing things as simple as time differently than we do.

[midasinc]

Hello yes hi the feral garbage rat is back with some headcannons

Also thank U for the cheese very scrumptious🙏🙏

alot of the amis have different religions, and so there's a bunch of different holidays that they celebrate

And the rest of the amis always without a doubt celebrate it with them

Jehan celebrates alot of pagan holidays and makes everyone cookies every Yule

Except they don't know how to bake because they never had to as a kid so every year someone takes turns helping and making sure there isn't another house fire like last year

SO MANY GIFTS OMGGGG

With the amount of holidays everyone is celebrating there is wayyyy too much gift giving and buying

They get each other the most random gifts too

Courf thought it'd be a good idea to play pass the parcel one year

And it actually went really well until Joly unwrapped a dead pigeon and it had to stop

Nobody knows where the bird came from or who got it and it keeps them all up at night ngl

There's been suspicions about Combeferre bringing it but they're all too scared to mention it anymore

Anyway MOVING ON-

Every Christmas they have a really big lunch together and sooooo much food

They all leave looking like a bunch of inflated beach balls and somehow there's still food left over like how

Anyway yeah that's it sorry if these were bad lol also merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don't! ✨✨

oh these are so cute !! i love them and i will invite u in for some christmas cheese for feral garbage rats <3

[judarud]

Im not sure my man, most things I found about Ostara seem to be neo-pagan non-sense rather than actual old traditions. Like Easter isnt directly named after Ostara, its named after the Saxon name for April Ostaramunath. Suposedly because they had a feast to her in that month.

Kind of like how July and August were named as part of the deification of Julius Caesar and Caesar Augustus. Though I'm all for people to start calling it Pascha or whatever variation you prefer

The oldest reference I found to Ostara was in fact a monk mentioning that fact, I believe well after the Saxons abandoned their old pagan beliefs. Said monk wasn't even that sure.

As for the comodification of Easter, thats part and parcel to the secularization of society. The same happens to christmas and halloween.

The latter is the most commodified holiday of the year and there’s plenty of Sexy Santas out there. Halloween was meant to be a celebration of the Martyrs/Saints and now its the sexy costume season.

Mardi Grass has almost completely lost its religious connection and the less said about Carnaval the better.

I guess im saying its gonna get worse... and from what i've read into the subject Easter isnt all that special and the bunny thing seems like a post-hoc thing from Neo-Pagans shooting for a "win" more than an actual pagan tradition that they're using to influence people today.

Why I Don’t Celebrate “easter”

I’m a big believer in co-opting other traditions and using certain things to instead honour God. There are Christians who wont do certain celebrations or traditions because they either have origins in the non Christian world or similarities too close to pagan celebrations… I don’t agree with this. As long as it’s not specifically something against our beliefs then there’s no harm in doing something not originally intended for God to be made to honour God. While others may have used similar practices to celebrate fertility or some other thing I don’t think there’s any harm in hiding chocolates or painting eggs to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus. And there’s nothing wrong with tying the celebration in a general sense to the coming of spring and spring imagery…the themes of new life and renewal mesh very well with the resurrection story.

However I do take issue with naming the celebration easter and also specifically with the bunny imagery associated with it. For those who don’t know the name comes from a pagan folktale about a goddess named oester, this folktale is also where the rabbit imagery comes from because in the story there is a character transformed into a rabbit and this transformation is used to demonstrate a corruption of innocence. It’s also why bunny imagery is used by pedophiles as a kind of secret handshake the same way the spiral symbol and pizza symbols are used to denote an interest in children. Not only does the name easter and rabbits have nothing to do with the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ but they actually celebrate and honour something vile and evil. 

I believe our enemies who are in on this joke delight in seeing the vatican parade out a rabbit, they love that this time of year their symbols are plastered everywhere by Christians unwittingly. They love that instead of celebrating Christ this time of year for many has become about chocolate and half naked women dressed like rabbits because a holiday has just become an excuse for a themed egirl costume. I’m sure they see it as some grand humiliation ritual, a way to lessen the impact of the message and attempt to instead make it about lust and gluttony. 

So that part of it I refuse to participate in. However I hope everyone has and has been having a great resurrection weekend and hope that you all have a great time with your families and friends. Hopefully at some point you will take a moment to remember that you can be free spiritually because God loved us so much that he came to us as a man, suffered and died and rose again so that we could be saved. 

[thorraborinn]

Why do you think some Heathens are so obsessed with trying to claim certain deities are "just Christian creations"? I know sometimes I'll see people claiming Baldr's just a "Jesus Insert" (which as someone who honors him, I find frustrating) and now it seems like people are trying to say Loki and Hel are in a similar boat. Why do they even care?

This one’s a little bit complicated because I do think that it’s worthwhile to try to trace the genealogies of certain ideas and customs, but I also agree it’s often done in a way that isn’t productive and is more like an argumentative weapon to shut others down than to learn more. It’s not just deities either, it even influences interpretation of poetry, e.g. certain interpretations of stanzas from Hávamál (including 127) have been rejected because they “sound too Christian to be right.”

This has always been a big part of Norse and Germanic studies. For example, Sophus Bugge was an extremely important 19th-century philologist and did a lot of really important work for Norse and Germanic studies, including deciphering the Elder Futhark. But he also thought that the Eddas were basically all just derived from Christianity. This wasn’t widely accepted as a whole, but on a case-by-case basis his arguments were always available for revisitation. But aside from Bugge this is always a concern when reading Norse myths written hundreds of years after conversion. A very good paper applying this type of criticism to a single poem is “Vǫluspá and the feast of Easter” by John McKinnell. As this paper itself points out, there were undoubtedly many instances of heathens taking things from Christians that in no way diminished heathenry or the heathenness of the ideas they were incorporated into.

It should of course also be noted that Christian society isn’t the only source of influence on Norse and Germanic peoples -- there is no such thing as a “pure” culture and Norse people seem to have been interested in learning from everyone and everything they could. We can be sure of influences from the Sámi; various Celtic-speaking peoples; Rome both Christian and non-Christian; likely Greece in the very distant Germanic past; Baltic peoples; Slavic peoples; Muslims (at least in material culture); West and Central Asian peoples; including some who probably conquered and occupied parts of Scandinavia at one point; etc, etc. And yet, Christianity in particular is the attribution with the greatest power to invalidate -- people couldn’t try to eject Skaði from heathenry by making a claim that she’s a loan-deity from some other circumpolar culture, for instance.

The other day I mentioned the book American Heathens by Jennifer Snook. She actually has an entire chapter in it on heathens distinguishing themselves on one hand from Christians, and Wiccans on the other. She writes (28) “I have come to believe that this not-Christian identity is central to what it feels like to be Pagan and is taken for granted by members of both communities [Wiccan/”neopagan” and heathen] as part and parcel of affiliation.”She continues (31):

At the same time, they also actively reject behaviors associated with other Neopagan religious groups, particularly Wicca, whose ways are seen as hedonistic and undisciplined. Their disassociation and differentiation between their own group and other groups (both mainstream and alternative) is a method by which they create an “us” and construct “them” as the other. A critical dimension of collective identity formation involves the establishment of boundaries as groups come to distinguish between themselves and outsiders.

Since Snook’s book is an anthropological observation of American heathenry she isn’t talking about what it should be or something like that, just what she saw while doing fieldwork. But she draws attention to the “paradox of sorts in Heathens’ disaffection with both mainstream and other forms of Neopagan religion and the embrace of a rather moralistic religious worldview that echoes that of traditional Christianity” (30; i.e., she observed that most heathens in the US are socially conservative, heavily overlapping with “traditional Christian values”). I talked a bit in this post about the modern heathen social economy of “authenticity.” The accusation of Christian (or Wiccan) influence operates in such an environment as a way of recasting the imposition of a theological orthodoxy in heathen terms

I *think* I remember Rune Hjarnø Rasmussen referring to this conceptually as “the defining other” or something like that (and I hope I’m not mischaracterizing something he said), building your own identity in a state of contingency with another identity. To be clear, let me repeat that there’s no such thing as a “pure” anything; heathenry is always going to be embedded in a web of relations with other traditions (as will particular heathenries with other heathenries) and that’s good, but allowing just one to define us by negation is completely counterproductive. I’ve argued before that inclusive varieties of heathenry struggle with folkish heathenry being its “defining other,” i.e. inclusive hand all their own autonomy over to the folkists (e.g. nonracist heathens calling themselves “universalist” when that’s not only literally untrue but was coined by folkists specifically to invalidate people who disagree with them (there are some actually universalist inclusive heathens but they are far less common); defining óðal to mean something like ‘family’ in an attempt to “reclaim” it without considering the historical role of óðal in moving away from egalitarian common ownership to feudalism; fighting to “reclaim” only those symbols that are associated with Naziism and failing to develop its own symbolic culture; etc).

But I do also think there’s another dimension to it as well. Though I pointed out that influences from other, non-Christian cultures (especially other pagan cultures), are not met with the same level of criticism, they also aren’t neutral. Despite the incoherence of the idea of “purity” or “originality,” some heathens persist in pursuing a “Proto-Germanic religion,” sometimes by proxy. I criticized that in this post. I don’t think this is just endemic to heathenry, I actually think it’s a feature of modern Western epistemology generally, and its presence and even intensification within heathenry demonstrates that modern heathenry is a recuperation of pre-Christian culture by post-enlightenment liberal modernity and not an autonomous, self-determined movement; a problem without a clear solution even when it’s identified. That’s a big topic that I’m still developing my position on but this post is where I went the deepest into my thoughts on this. Note especially the part about the K’iche’ Maya people being required by the Guatemalan state to appeal to the same epistemology that heathens subject each other to (but note also the differences between our position and that of the K’iche’ Maya -- I have no patience for “decolonize heathenry” bullshit that frames white descendants of Germanic people as victims of colonization). Because this trend within heathenry is very closely tied to linguistic reconstruction and to Proto-Indo-European studies, a god might be rejected as “late” because they don’t fit into a reconstructed PIE position, like how heathens will say “well actually Týr, and not Óðinn, is the father-king of the gods because he is the Indo-European sky-father.”

So I guess by way of some kind of conclusion, I think the reason this happens so often is that there are a lot of different potential reasons for it, and it’s fruitful to consider what the person making the diagnosis of “Christian influence” is trying to accomplish. I think that in the most blatant and pointless examples of it, it has to do with the extremely online recon “authenticity economy” where tearing others down is a technique for maintaining one’s own reputation (and habitually rejecting everything is also an easy way to be seen as a shrewd and critical authority), and my discussion of epistemology and all that is probably giving them too much credit most of the time. All of this makes it harder to engage in actual source criticism where legitimate discussion of Christian influence separate from inherent value-judgments about it, as well as in discussion of how we modern people relate both to our pre-Christian predecessors and to the temporal distance between us and them.

Oh, one last thing. With Loki and Hel (and Fenrisúlfr, and various jötnar) in particular, recognition of them as divinities is strongly associated within modern heathen discursive spaces with LGBTQ/GNC people. In (most) non-folkish heathen spaces, heathens can’t openly reject people for their gender or sexuality without facing repercussions anymore, and they certainly can’t accuse gay or trans heathens of Christian influence, but they can try to invalidate them by proxy by trying to invalidate the things within heathenry that they associate with them. Like I mentioned in the post about Loki and Hel, people who worship other gods who have weak or no evidence for cult worship in pre-Christian times are not subjected to the same level of scrutiny.

I have a theoretical framework for explaining modern heathenry, that describes heathenry not as a religious movement but as a participatory worldbuilding project, with some of the loudest voices being those who are upset that others don’t want to enact their personal aethetics. Cases like this are why I think an description like that is effective.

[apenitentialprayer]

The Cult of the Saints: An Outline

The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity, by Peter Brown.

Chapter 2: “A Fine and Private Place”

1. Inscriptions on graves stretching over a millennium are “reminders of the massive stability of the Mediterranean care of the dead.” Funerary customs were simply “part and parcel” of the human condition, and so rituals were surprisingly indifferent to labels like “pagan,” “Christian,” “elite,” or “popular.” They were less a religious experience as they were a human experience, with the central aspect in all cases being the importance of the deceased’s family in taking care of the dead. 2. At the same time, the grave became a flashpoint where tensions between communal and familial loyalties could be expressed and played out. Different societies at different times have attempted to deal with the apparent contradiction of loyalty among its constituencies in different ways; some have been content to allow certain members of the dead “to retain a high profile,” while others have attempted to suppress the power of certain deceased and their families. (x) 3. Though such tensions shift the field of conversation from overt theology to more subtle sociological concerns within the community, the language used to discuss these tensions nonetheless remain religiously charged. Granting ammunition to those scholars who use the two-tier popular religion model, writers of this period like Augustine and Jerome attempted to frame undesirable practices as pagan holdovers. 4. This framing of undesirable practices as pagan holdovers has influenced later historians; by taking such claims at face value, scholars like A.H.M. Jones could later look at texts written by these same authors that speak positively of the cult of the saints and frame these texts as the final victory of the vulgar in pressuring the practices of the elite. But such a view fails to hold up under scrutiny. 5. For example, the elites who decried ‘paganisms’ that had infiltrated Christian practice often blamed a phenomenon of mass conversions that had happened in the century since Constantine’s conversion to Christianity. There are two issues with such reasoning; recent archaeological work at Hippo has failed to find evidence of a sudden mass conversion to Christianity among its 4th Century inhabitants; the growth of the community seems to have come from a rising population occurring within a stable Christian community. Second, the practices being described as pagan in origin were often practiced by the elite Christians themselves, and had been practiced by such Christians for generations before. 6. By looking beyond the writings of a select few elites who lived during the generation of Augustine and Jerome, a different picture starts to be formed; this picture forces us to confront the tensions between the universal Church, which articulated itself as a form of extended spiritual kinship, and the biological kin units that were members of this Church. 7. The increased centralization of the Church in late antiquity, combined with the central ritual meal in which all members would participate, allowed the institution to become a form of “artificial kin group.” This is shown by their funerary practices; by the early third century, the Church in Rome had its own cemetery, and the burial of non-Christians within its territory was seen as a breach in kinship ties. Likewise, the Christian Church prayed for its dead specifically, at the exclusion of heathens, apostates, and excommunicates. Likewise, the dates of the deaths of martyrs and bishops were recorded and memorialized as a form of family history. 8. At the same time, the ‘privatization’ of the cult of the saints threatened the universality of the Church; writers like Augustine and Vigilantius criticized devotions centered on ancestral graves and relics for this very reason. There was an anxiety that the rise of feast days dedicated to localized saints could threaten the importance of Easter, and the holy sites in Jerusalem could be neglected in favor of tombs closer to home. 9. By keeping these conflicting interests in mind, the framing of the controversy changes from a Christian intellectual elite trying to suppress a ‘vulgar’ religious practice to a battle between two different Christian elites attempting to position themselves as the proper patrons of the cult; the bishops representing the universal Church, and the families of the venerated deceased. 10. This conflict can be seen in the creation of shrines and the private possessions of relics by wealthy laypersons. Families would often construct shrines to saints with the intention of burying their own dead in proximity to them, depositio ad sanctos. This led to some resentment; the grave of one poor person located outside a chapel had an inscription which said his position outside the church was a result of his poverty, but quips that he nonetheless is “as warm as they” who were laid to rest by the saint. In another case, a woman named Lucilla was rebuked by a deacon for kissing the bone of a martyr that she owned before receiving the Eucharist in her mouth. 11. In Rome itself, tensions between these groups were less severe; the Christian poet Paulinus praised a Roman senator who held a feast at the grave of an ancestor on his death-day, for example. Pope Damascus, likewise, was able to exert influence on prominent members of wealthy Christian families in order to keep a hold on “cemeteries that could so easily have slipped irrevocably out of their control.” Outside of Rome, Ambrose of Milan would play a prominent role in the cooling of this crisis. After the relics of Saints Gervasius and Protasius were discovered in 385, Ambrose was swift to appropriate them for himself; he collected the corpses and placed them in a basilica of his own creation, “inseparably link[ing them] to the communal liturgy.” 12. Ambrose had neither created the practice of saint veneration, nor did he simply accept cult veneration as something outside his control; by linking relics to particular churches and basilicas throughout his territory, Ambrose had essentially “rewired” the practice by connecting it to places of public worship. Augustine’s writings in favor of the saints would perform a similar function; whereas their intercession was previously a largely private affair, his recording of ‘authentic’ miracles by their intercession made these stories the public domain of all Christians. 13. In the generation directly after Augustine, the ambivalence towards the cult of the saints had shifted; figures like Gregory of Tours and Paulinus were greatly enthusiastic with the celebrations of the saints. Two factors may have played a part in this; first was the economic situation in western Europe; even during Augustine’s term as bishop, his community controlled more wealth than he ever did as an individual, and in fact struggled to find ways to spend it. 14. While much of the Mediterranean struggled with financing its ecclesiastical ambitions, Italy, Gaul, and North Africa seemed to have an abundance of wealth; whereas Alexandria “had to choose between shirts for then poor and the itch to build,” western Europe did not have the surge in population that made it difficult to fund reliefs for the poor and sick. And, without the traditional ways of spending wealth for the community, resentment for their possession of the wealth could fester. The cult of the saints allowed the Church to avoid that; by publicly funding shrines and hosting feasts and ceremonies at them, the money could be funneled back to the community. 15. Furthermore, the cult of the saints helped to redefine urban life in the Roman world. Before, the city was divided into citizens (men belonging to the city) and non-citizens (women, children, the poor, and visitors). Most of the time, these latter two categories were allowed to remain in the city, but at times of war or famine they were forcibly expelled; the line of who belonged was drawn. With the rise of the cult of the saints, both women and the poor were able to participate in public life like never before. 16. The most dramatic expression of women’s involvement would be the processions on feast days, which scandalized even some of the clergy; men and women, married and unmarried, walked and mingled together during these celebrations. Later, under Islamic rule, there are records of young men coming to such festivals specifically to see the women. In some cases, illicit sexual activity did occur - Augustine had one in one of the basilicas of Carthage before his conversion to Christianity. 17. Beyond the physical mixing of the sexes, the cult of the saints allowed women to partake in situations that were not dominating by men in the traditional sense. Most shrines were located in cemeteries, where the regulation between the sexes was more lax. Beyond that, however, the escape from the “rigidities of her urban setting” could mean a complete escape from the masculine presence in its entirety. One account of a pilgrim details her walking a circuit of shrines in which even the male saint being venerated did not act in the traditionally Roman masculine form. (x) 18. The poor, meanwhile, often congregated around shrines, as they were heavily associated with charity and gift-giving. This was part of a larger shift to a postclassical society in which the citizen/non-citizen divide was replaced with the rich and poor as the primary separator; the rich were expected to provide service to the poor through a religiously charged expression of patron-client relationship. The poor were not to be thrown out “at the first touch of famine,” but were essential parts of this system of patronage. 19. The inclusion of the poor as social recipients was mirrored by the inclusion of women as givers. This development allowed women to participate in public life at a time where public laws were still forbidding them to participate in politics; under the Christian worldview, charity was an act of mercy, and not an act of politics. Women could therefore visit the sick, feed the poor, and fully participate as patrons of shrine-based ceremonies without breaching this ban. 20. These developments hopefully show that the development of the cult of the saints was not the result of a “vulgar,” half-pagan majority forcing their will on a reluctant, educated Christian elite. Rather, it was a development within the Christian community that created intracommunal tensions and resulted in a tradition that broke from traditional paganism.

[n3rdybird]

Healing Touch

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s Hamilton Lyric challenge!  This story went through so many re-writes and changes, god I hope this mangled mess is okay, haha.  My prompt was the line “My name’s been through a lot.  I can take it.”

Vikings

HeahmundxReader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some blood, talk about Church, self-flagellation etc (referenced, not described in depth) suggestive language, oogling a man of the church (haha)

Gossip was always a funny thing in small villages.  Perhaps you had not been thinking clear when you established your home on the edge of the holy town of Sherborn. Nestled in the woods near a stream, you were both close enough to the town to visit for supplies but far enough away that your arrival stirred up a bit of mystery.

 As an unmarried woman with no known family, you already raised a few brows of the more prominent families.  But it was your talent for herbalism that set most of the tongues wagging.  The smallfolk were more pragmatic towards your skills.  They could overlook your marital status if it meant well-made salves and tonic for their aches and illnesses. With their payments, usually traded goods that you could not make yourself, and the bounty of the forest, you rarely had any need to visit the town marketplace.  Which only furthered the mystique around you.

 When you did grace the town with your presence, most of the townsfolk gave you a wide berth, allowing you to shop in peace.  Even the merchants seemed to deal in your favor, giving you more than was due for your wares.  You heard the rumors.  Half the town believed that you were a cunning woman and would bring misfortune to any who wronged you.  The other half sang your praises, that you were even more skilled than the clergy.

 So it was to your great surprise as you kneeled to rearrange your parcels in your basket that a shadow loomed over you. You glanced upward, schooling your features as you saw the Bishop of Sherborne himself, Heahmund, standing over you.

You nodded your head in greeting before standing, slinging your basket over your shoulder.  The bishop was a popular man, known for his devotion to God as well as to the sword.  And lesser-known, his propensity for women.  Mostly gossip, but living as you had, you knew there was at least a kernel of truth to any rumor.  His handsome face did not help, nor the way his stubble gave him a rakish air.  He was a far cry from the average holy man, fat and week from a sedentary lifestyle.

 “Your Grace,” you greeted and dipped into a shallow curtsey, giving the most powerful man in Sherborne due deference for his position.

 “You know who I am?” he asked.

 “Of course.  One could scarcely live in Sherborne without knowing of its Bishop,” you answered.

 He nodded in agreement, before gesturing for you to walk with him.

 “Please allow me to escort you home if you are finished for the day,” he offered. 

 You had no intention of spending any considerable time with the church official, but you erred on the side of caution and walked in step next to him.

 “I apologize for not making my acquaintance sooner, I meet most of my parishioners on Sundays for mass,” he said, keeping his eyes forward. 

 You hummed noncommittally, but inside, you blanched. Heahmund's statement seemed polite on the surface, but you knew he was angling for an answer to why you had yet to make an appearance in church.  In all honesty, it wasn’t that you weren’t Christian.  You were, in your own way.  It was the idea that one had to go to church to be considered religious that you didn’t agree with.  So you had to pick your words carefully.

 “Well then I am pleased that I’ve had the chance to meet you today,” you said, avoiding the point about the church, focusing on his former words rather than the latter.  Heahmund cut his eyes towards you, clearly noting your evasion.

 “Quite.”  His tone was sharp and you felt as if you failed an unknown test.

 The conversation dwindled to Heahmund telling bits of history about the town or gesturing to points of interest as the two of you left town.  You were glad when you walked past the boundary of Sherborne. You were used to the curious stares when you were alone, but with the Bishop as company, it seemed the gazes were amplified.  The gossip mill would soon be in a frenzy.  The path home took you past the open fields and into the shaded forest along a winding path.

 “Living alone, so far from town, must worry you,” he noted.

 “Why would I be worried?”

 “Well a woman such as yourself, living alone.  You would be far better protected living in town.  Roaming bandits, animals, or even the occasional Viking incursion.”

 “I worry as much as the next, I suppose, but living in town has never appealed to me.  Not to mention it is easier to collect wild plants,” you explained.

 “Yes, I’ve heard of your skills.  Where did you learn?”

 You paused your walk, noticing a crop of comfrey sprouting from the ground.  You knelt in the dirt, brushing the purple buds with your fingertips.  Too young.  You’d have to wait a few more days to harvest.  You stood up, wiping the dirt off your skirt.  You glanced back at Heahmund who had stopped several paces away.  He was watching you closely but looked away as soon as your gaze met his.

 “Family mostly, I’ve never learned formally.  I’ve found that there is much in nature that can help or hurt.  It only takes a practiced hand to know the difference.”

 Heahmund stiffened, his hand resting on his sword.  His gaze turned to stone as he eyed you critically. 

 “And do you only heal?  Or do you hurt?  I admit this meeting was no coincidence.  There have been rumors that reached my ears.  Half the town believes you to be a cunning woman, a witch, and I do not suffer pagans under my watch.”

 You swallowed.  You shouldn’t have disregarded the gut feeling you had the moment he began speaking to you. If the Bishop found any fault in your words, he could kill you now and be firm in his belief that he was in the right in his duty as a man of God.  There was no one around who could come to your aid, not that any would stand against the warrior.

 “Do you deny it?”

 “Perhaps you could tell me which rumors have graced your ears, so I may better defend myself.”  The words you spoke were calm and confident, the complete opposite of how you were feeling. The sounds of the forest melted away and all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat as you tried to control your fear.

 Heahmund tilted his head as if trying to suss out your guilt or innocence.

 “‘Which’ rumors?  You are aware of what people say about you?”

 “My name’s been through a lot.  I can take it.  Women are always subjected to gossip, especially unmarried ones.  I would be a fool to believe otherwise.  I hardly see the point in trying to change someone’s opinion of me.  People do not like to be wrong.”

 “Lord Oswald has claimed that you hold dark influence over his daughter, causing her to act out and defy her father.  And that you placed a curse upon him, causing illness.”

 At the mention of the man, you clenched your fist.  You had first met his daughter when she visited you, draped in a cloak to hide her face. The purple bruise that spread across her cheekbone like a wine stain caused your immediate hatred towards the man she called father.  You may have let out a few choice curse words as you treated the abrasion and consoled the young woman.

 “That man is a pig.  I couldn't care less what he thought of me.  As for his illness, perhaps he should be blaming his poor diet.”

 “Lord Oswald is an upstanding and-”

 “Upstanding?  That man would sell his daughter to the vilest devil on earth if it meant he’d get more power!” You blurted the words out, angry that that man would be considered upstanding.

 “His daughter is his by rights, and as such may marry her to a man of his choosing. That is the duty of daughters,” the Bishop intoned, repeating the words drilled into him by years of church teachings.

 You scoffed at his words, biting back harsh curses.  Duty, you’ve never cared for that word.

 “Duty, what a hollow promise.  Is it not a father’s duty to protect his daughter? And not to lay a hand on her in anger?”

 Heahmund’s face softened at that particular bit of information.

 “Did you place a curse on Oswald?” he asked again, his voice low and stern.

 “I wouldn’t have to.  That man will drink himself into an early grave,” you spat.  You nodded to where his hand was still resting on the pommel of his sword.

 “So what is your judgment?  Is thinking a man worth less than a pile of shit enough to die? Or not congregating with hypocrites on Sunday who profess their goodness only to hit their wives or cheat on their husbands or sleep with clergymen?  Are those my crimes?”

 The last bit of course was aimed at the Bishop.  He was taken aback by your words.  He too knew the hypocrisy of humans, he had seen it firsthand in others and himself.

 “Regardless of any sin committed, man can repent and ask forgiveness.”  It was what he told himself every time he failed in his duty to God.

 “But I am judged by the words of one man, and that’s enough to condemn me?  And what of all the kind words said in my favor? Because they are from the smallfolk they aren’t as important? But as soon as someone with ‘prestige’ speaks horrible lies, you must come running to investigate.  Like a trained hound set out by its masters.”

 Dismissing the warrior bishop, you shook your head.  Rigid, sanctimonious, and arrogant.

 “If you are going to kill me, kill me.  I do not wish to suffer your presence any longer.”

 When Heahmund did not speak but removed his hand from his sword you gave him a terse nod.

 “Enjoy the rest of your day, your Grace.”

 Heahmund watched as you walked away, your skirts swishing behind you.  You had spoken the truth.  He had no interest in you until the upper echelon started their complaints.  He was all but demanded to get to the bottom of it.  As much as your words stung, you were correct. He could have denounced the hearsay as soon as they were spoken, owing to the fact that smallfolk all but revered you.  So he bowed under the demands to keep his place secure.

 You, however, were not what he expected.  Young, unmarried, and striking.  He thought you might be an older widow, with the talk of your skills.  Instead he got you, a fiery, educated young woman, who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind.  It was almost refreshing to have someone not fawn over him.  Yes, you treated him with respect but did not trip over yourself to please him.  You had no problem criticizing him.

 He rubbed the pommel of his sword, worrying the raised designs with his thumb.  You were interesting indeed.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 After you left the bishop to mull over your words, you had hurried home, half expecting him to come after you and take you in for your supposed crimes. When he did not follow, your steps became shaky and you found yourself stumbling into the small cottage you called home.  You flung the latch closed and leaned against the door, trying to regain your wits.

 You had been accused of crimes, as untrue as they were.  The Bishop himself was sent to investigate.  And you had thrown a tantrum, insulting him and his life.  The next few days you did not venture far from your home, fearing retribution.  You debated leaving your home, going to another area.  But you tired of running away.  As the days passed, you breathed a little easier.  No one had come to take you away, and the smallfolk continued to do business with you.

 After a particularly grueling morning over a cookfire, and setting a poor child’s broken arm, you were exhausted.  With the hot sun overhead, you plucked at your tunic as it stuck to your skin.  A dip in the water would do nicely.

 Gathering your satchel and clad in a lightweight chemise, you began your trek to your preferred bathing spot.  A small bend in the river where the water calmed and you could bathe in relative peace.

 Placing your bag within reach of the water, you glance around before unlacing your chemise, letting it fall to your feet.  The water was cool, refreshing on your overheated skin.  You ducked under the water, brushing your wet locks away from your face.  You wiped the water from your eyes before reaching for your soap to wash away the grime of the morning.

 “Perhaps you are not a witch, but a water nymph from Greek stories,” a familiar voice called out.  You spun and stared gobsmacked at the bishop sitting near the edge of the water.  You bristled at the nerve of him openly staring as you bathed.

 “Shouldn’t a man of the cloth look away when a woman is bathing?” you retorted, wishing for the first time that the water was not so clear.

 “Ah, but you have already judged me a hypocrite, would that not be proving you wrong?” he replied but turned his head away from you.

 You grumbled, a bit irritated that he had thrown your own words back in your face. Making your way to the shore, you all but snatched your chemise with outstretched fingertips, and dressed with haste.

 “Is there something you need, your Grace?” you huffed out, irritated that he had spoiled your bath. You grabbed your satchel, swinging it wildly over your shoulder, hitting his chest with the soft leather.  You immediately dropped your pack in alarm when he hissed in pain.

 “I came to apologize,” he said between clenched teeth.  “Would that be amiable, or would you prefer to hit me with your bag again?”

 The weight of your bag should not have caused him any pain, especially if it caused him to grit his teeth.  You peeled back his tunic and gasped at the sight of several scratches adorning his chest.  Though most were superficial, a few deep welts drug across the expanse of his skin.

 “What on earth happened?”

 Heahmund jerked away from your grip.

 “It’s nothing to worry about," he said, brushing off your concern.

 “I’d ask you not to lie to me.  Take off your shirt.”

 When he didn’t follow your command you rolled your eyes.

 “Lord save me from bullheaded men,” you muttered, reaching for his shirt.

 “You can either take off your shirt, or I will cut it off.  It matters not to me what you choose.”

 Heahmund raised a brow at your demands and pulled his tunic over his head with a grunt of pain.  Kneeling in front of him, you tried to not ogle the Bishop as you took in his wounds.  Most were already scabbed over, others dark with crusted blood.  You curled your lip in dismay.  You traced your fingers over his skin, the newer cuts crossing over old scars.  Some of the deeper gashes were warm to the touch, a sign of infection.  You looked up, his eyes watching your hand as it moved across his chest before looking at you.

 You pulled your hand away, clucking in a scolding manner.  Rifling through your pouch, you pulled out a strip of cloth and some salve.  You dipped the cloth into the cool water, wringing out the excess before blotting at the wounds.

 “You would think someone with your knowledge would know to treat cuts, no matter how trivial,” you said, as you washed the crusted blood away.  “You look like you got in a fight with a cat,” you joked.

 “Thorns actually,” he amended.  When you looked at him confused, he clarified.

 “My self-penance, along with asking for your forgiveness.”

 You paused in your ministrations, horrified at the thought.

 “You believe God would want you to harm yourself to seek forgiveness?”

 “It brings me clarity, to better understand what path God wishes me to take.”

 You shook your head before reaching for the salve.

 “What is there to understand?  God gave us free will, for us to make the choices in our lives.  Maybe making mistakes is part of his plan?” you said softly, applying the paste with deft fingers.

 “I fear I make too many mistakes, stumble too often in my path,” Heahmund confessed.

 “You were right.  About Oswald and the rumors.  His daughter confirmed it in confession.  She was quite worried about you when she heard I came to visit you.”

 You shook your head, sighing.  The last thing you wanted was to cause more trouble for the young girl.

 “I hope you told her she was not at fault.  I can take care of myself.  Please tell her not to worry.”

 He took your hand in his, his calloused fingertips running along yours.  Your hand was calloused, but not from holding a sword.  You had burn scars from hot pots, tiny cuts from mishaps with knives. Your hand that he had accused of witchcraft and misdeeds was the hand that wiped away his blood and applied medicine, something he did not deserve.  A healing hand.

 “Choices and mistakes shape our lives, make us who we are.  My life brought me here, to Sherborne.  As your choices brought you to me.  It was your choice to let, rather than kill or imprison me, something I am grateful for,” you said matter of fact.

 Heahmund laughed.

 “We shall see if that works in my favor.  Provided you didn’t poison me,” he said, nodding towards his chest.

 You rolled your eyes and licked your fingertip, still coated in salve.  Heahmund’s eyebrows jumped in surprise at your action.

 “Well if it were poison, now I would die as well.  So fear not your Grace, you should be on the mend quickly,” you jested with a smile.  Heahmund returned your smile with one of his own.  You felt your stomach flutter at the expression on his face, and the threat of a blush warmed your neck.

 He brought your hand up to his lips and planted a warm slow kiss on the back of your knuckles.  The rough brush of his stubble sent a zip of desire down your spine.  This was dangerous.  This was a mistake in the making.  But you found yourself caring little as you stared into his eyes.

 “Please, allow me to repay you.”

[quotesfromall]

But the forcible separation of spirit, body, and flesh is not solely a matter of Jewish-Christian difference. A similar rhetoric of exalted spirit and deviant carnality underscores the relations between Judaism and paganism. In popular Jewish and Christian discourse, the divine call to Abraham heralded a spiritual revolution that transformed the ancient Near East. According to this view, the ethical monotheism first articulated by Judaism and later exemplified through Christianity served as spiritual corrective to the hypersexualized hedonistic culture of Canaan. The subjugation of sexuality, the body, and its flesh comes part and parcel with another triumphalist paradigm of religious evolution. Like fantastical and demonic caricatures of the Jews, the rhetorical portrayal of paganism becomes a dangerous specter with little grounding in historical reality.

Julia Watts Belser, Returning to Flesh

[angelandgypsy]

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