Welcome to Gaia! ::

.:Initiation protocol:.

Galleai felt that she ought to be nervous. And yet a sense of serenity seemed to blanket her. The gown flowed around her like a dark cloud and her equally dark eyes were half-lidded. They had given her something to drink at the purification ritual. They had made her bathe and anointed her forehead and eyelids and mouth with an oil that seemed to burn the skin. And then they had given her a cup of milky liquid, bid her drink, and dressed her. Whatever the drug had been, it made her feel as if she were floating above her body, watching the proceedings as if she were an outsider.

Nicola lay on the altar as Galleai stood before the small assembled group. Nicola had won the right to be the symbolic sacrifice after all. The Oracle stood in the center, flanked by Leeward and Apollonaire and Dianne stood to Galleai's right hand side, holding a silver tray that contained a dagger, two coffin nails wrought of gold and a chalice that contained the brew Galleai had been working on for the past several months. All was in readiness. Nicola was freshly fed so that she would bleed like a living being and the men had taken up a low chant in a language the girl didn't recognize. It compelled her. The drug compelled her. The gaze of the Oracle compelled her. Obedient as a sheep, Galleai took up the dagger and found herself momentarily captured by her own reflection in the steel. The chanting grew more insistent and she seemed to remember what she was supposed to do, turning her gaze to Nicola.

The vampiress' shining eyes met those of the dreamwalker and they both felt touched by a feverish heat. Galleai raised the dagger, positioning it high over Nicola's heart. The vampiress' steady gaze never left the girl's eyes.

"See how it bleeds." Nicola whispered to Galleai, reaching up to put her hands over her charge's on the dagger's handle.

"See how it bleeds." Galleai whispered back and together they drove the knife downward.

She watched it all from outside of herself, which was a good thing. Fully aware and sober, the dreamwalker would not have been capable of doing what must be done. Even knowing that Nicola would come to no lasting harm didn't change the feeling of sliding steel into flesh. The illusion was a good one.

Dianne was there to catch some of the blood in the chalice and the substance inside smoked and hissed. This was Leeward and Apollonaire's cure to walk forwards and remove Nicola (who was pretending unconscousness) from the altar. A white cloth was spread over the bloodstained stone and Galleai was helped into a lying position. They took her hands and stretched them gently above her head so that they came to rest on a wooden plank. The dreamwalker blinked sleepily at the two men who handled her as gently as a mother would handle her first-born. A part of her brain knew what was going to happen next but the pain as the Oracle came forward and began driving the golden nails into her palms snapped her back to the present immediately. There was no more vaguely pleasant floating sensation, there was only intense pain. She'd been warned, though, and warned thoroughly that she was not permitted to make a sound. It was harder than she had ever imagined anything could be. Her teeth gritted together so tightly that she was sure they would all break off. It was all a part of the test and Galleai was determined to show them all that she could pass as well as anyone.

Finally, finally it was done and her own blood collected into the chalice. Then, one by one Leeward and Apollonaire and even the handmaiden for the oracle opened their flesh and contributed to the liquid contents. The mixture hissed and spat and was poured ceremoniously into Galleai's mouth. There was a brief moment when she coughed and choked on the bitterness and then a sudden flash in which she could see the whole world, the very structure of the human soul. And then there was darkness. Blessed, blessed darkness.

.:The power of believing:.

"Gods" said Moth thoughtfully as she poured two cups of lavendar willowbark tea "are interesting creatures." She handed a stained teacup with a chip on the rim to Galleai, who inhaled deeply.

"There are a few different ways to become a God that I am aware of. But mostly, as long as there are people willing to believe in you, thats all it takes."

"I thought gods were celestial beings. You know, all powerful and stuff." Galleai sipped her tea thoughtfully, enjoying the way it warmed her belly.

"Some of them are. Most of them posess power greater than the mortals do." Moth looked at Galleai with a strange expression. "There are gods who seek power, and they're the ones who are the most dangerous. Because their existence depends on people believing in them. If people stop believing, the god stops being a god."

"That doesn't seem right." The little dreamwalker frowned.

"It doesn't have to seem right. It just is. There are those that could be gods, but if they don't seek the power of followers they're just... powerful beings." Moth tucked a ragged strand of hair behind her ear. "Like you, for example."

"Me?" Galleai squeaked, nearly spilling her tea.

"Yes." Moth nodded, as if to accentuate her point. "If you cultivated a following you could be a rather powerful goddess. You've got the potential. Then there are the ones who are forgotten, like Raven."

Galleai knew who Raven was. "He created the world, yes? Pulled it out of his little pot?"

"Yes. But he never sought to be worshipped as a god. And after awhile he got so tired of the world that he became a recluse. And people started forgetting about him."

"Did he die? Did his power fade away?"

Moth let out a bright shard of laughter. "Oh, no. Last I checked he was living in a place lovingly called the Rookery. In Newford."

"Oh." Galleai sipped thoughtfully at her tea before deciding to change the subject. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear more about gods at the moment. Especially not with the direction Moth seemed to want to take the conversation. Galleai wasn't comfortable at the allusion that she could be a goddess. It didn't seem right, somehow. Though the topic she turned to was hardly more comforting. "Have there been more murders?"

"Yes." Moth's countenance darkened. "They've been turning up at the crossroads. There have been more reports of monsters resembling wolves wandering around the borders of Mabon and the Cathedral forest, too." The woman shook her head sadly. "It all points to Misery house. But we haven't..." She trailed off helplessly.

"Nobody survives Misery house." Galleai stated what they were both thinking. And then, another thought. "Would a god survive?"

Moth blinked, suprised. "I don't know. If the force of belief were strong enough, perhaps... why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. Just a silly thought." Galleai finished her tea and set the cup down. But the thought niggled in her mind and wouldn't go away.

"Belief is a powerful thing." Moth said softly. "There are already those around here who whisper about you. It would not be such a stretch for them to crown you as a goddess." The words were spoken so softly Galleai wasn't sure she'd really even heard them. But it didn't matter. The seeds were planted. And she found herself wondering.