Shrine Space Make-Over

Finally got the chance to redo my shrine space. Things were all askew and dusty. I aquired new shrine items so I needed to find homes for them. I got rid of some bits I don’t use anymore that could be safely thrown away. I’m quite pleased with the new set up.

The Cruel Sister

“Breadcrumbs, as you like to say, Love.”

 

The Cruel Sister

There lived a lady by the north sea shore
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Twa daughters were the bairns she bore
Fa la la la la la la la la la

One was as bright as is the sun
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Sae coal black grew the elder one
Fa la la la la la la la la la

A knight came riding to the ladies’ door
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
He travelled far to be their wooer
Fa la la la la la la la la la

He courted one, aye with gloves and rings
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
But he loved the other above all things
Fa la la la la la la la la la

“Sister, sister won’t you walk with me
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
An’ see the ships sail upon sea?”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

And as they stood on that windy shore
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The elder sister pushed the younger o’er
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Sometimes she sank or sometimes she swam
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Crying, “Sister, reach to me your hand”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

And there she floated just like a swan
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The salt sea carried her body on
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Two minstrels walking by the north sea strand
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
They saw the maiden, aye float to land
Fa la la la la la la la la la

They made a harp out of her breast bone
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The sound of which would melt a heart of stone
Fa la la la la la la la la la

They took three locks of her yellow hair
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
And wi’ them strung that harp so rare
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The first string that those minstrels tried
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Then terror seized the black-haired bride
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The second string played a doleful sound
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
“The younger sister, oh she is drowned”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The third string, it played beneath their bow
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
“And surely now her tears will flow”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Divine Madness

He whispers to me of madness. He comes clothed with darkness and death, the heavy scent of musk and leaf rot. Fresh death in His eyes. There is rage just below the surface and it seems to short circuit every now and again. There’s palpable tension and the colour of His eyes will flicker, to darkness and back. He keeps His distance…sort of. Right now He moves in silence mostly, not because He doesn’t speak but because it’s as if someone has turned on mute. I catch flickers of sound, as if the silence is a wind that dies down. There is the scent of fire, the heat from the bonfire in front of me and behind Him. He wears…robes? And skins and bones. Almost like a Shaman; The armour that I always associate with Him is there underneath but the metal has turned to leather. His…mojo?…is building, He is getting ready. 

I apologize to the owners of the images, I don’t have the spoons to get each link. I searched “the wild hunt” on Google Images.