Summoning

It wasn't as much of a last resort as she'd have them believe, but that did not mean it did not take effort.

She banished the rest of them from the house that evening- partially because she did not wish to share her secrets with the uninitiated, and partially because the creature she sought to summon was notoriously fickle- she could not risk the thing possessing someone else. (Come to think of it, that, too, probably counted as not wishing to share her secrets...)

Once they were gone, she purified herself. No creature of light would care to take up residence in a filthy host, so it was holy water and a good strong salt scrub for her- with a few drops of rose oil because hey- why not smell pleasant while invoking Beings from a higher plane? Still tingling from her bath, she began laying out the candles in the appropriate patterns. Long trial and error had taught her the prudence of moderation- too few flames and the creatures might not even notice you- or, worse, they might be insulted by your stinginess (and heaven save her from the petty grudges of spirits!) Too many candles and you might attract the attentions of something more powerful than you were willing to bargain with. Always awkward.

Her hair was beginning to dry by the time she changed into her ceremonial robe. It was soft and black, in no way competing with the vivid white lights cast by the candle flames (again- best to avoid any hint of insult). Not to mention it hid stains beautifully... She was already wearing her summoning amulet, strung on a chain as silver as the moon itself. She was ready.

She was not ready! She had almost forgotten the Offering. Shaking her head at familiarity's contempt, she padded into the kitchen on bare feet and filled a goblet with the appropriate liquid. She, personally, could not stand the stuff, but she need take no more than a small sip to align her awareness.

She settled herself down amidst the candles and began chanting, eyes half-focused on the shimmer of reflected candlelight in the goblet. Suddenly, the shimmer stopped wavering, grew brighter, and began to pulse in time to her words. Carefully, knowing that the small sip was more than enough to knock her on her ass, she raised the vessel to her lips, and drank.

Immediately she fell backwards (part of the reason for the oh-so-painstaking arrangement of the candles), surrendering control of her body to the Being she had called. If it was pleased with what it found (both in the cup and in her) it would stay. If not... well, never mind that.

As if in a dream she watched the Being raise up from the dark liquid and dance through the candles (counting them, probably, thought the small fraction of her brain still able to function). There it was, born of fire and poison, creation and destruction:

Her Muse.

(Summoning the Muse)