Black Witch. The one name put on Atabei while in Harper Rock. Not that she minded, she had been called worse things in the America’s by the white men and women there. Witch was the overall band-aid put on anyone they didn’t understand or relate to, no matter where you traveled to and come from.
The stories of her existence altered depending on who told you what. She was an old heretic here before the first settler arrived to the community, banished from own lands for grievous and treacherous acts. A seductress for Satan himself, tricking men, women and children into selling their souls to the devil, seducing them with her devil magic. Part human and part animal, feral in nature, refusing to conform to society’s norms and practices. There were others, but those were her favorites. They always made Atabei chuckle as she spent her nights awake in the graveyard to the north of the villagers. At one point in her existence, the villagers painted crosses, stark white on their wooden doors, hoping it would keep the woman at bay and away from their most beloved ones.
Humans, were the last thing on Atabei’s mind and worry. Their lives were short lived and they served no real purpose to the woman. Not unless they crossed her, her sire, or the white man. Their possessions and livestock meant more to the woman than a single breath in their very bodies. The woman rarely left the graveyard, or the catacombs, feeling at comfort and ease there. Very humans came into either place in the middle of the night. Here, she could spend her time appeasing the spirits, and practicing her beliefs, which were ‘darker’ and different than the typical white man’s beliefs these nights.
The almost naked woman leaned over her ritual altar, the tattered remains of a dress made from animal skin, barely hanging on the woman’s lower body. A gift from her sire, given to her. The outfit once worn by Atabei forced on her by the white man, buried deep in the earth somewhere in the northern part of the America’s as she made her escape here. The corners of her lips curled up a little as she took stock of the items she would need for the next week. But first, she would pay respects to Hahnee, as she did every night. Her sire had returned back to the America’s after helping Atabei complete her personal quest for freedom, a couple months later. That didn’t mean Atabei wasn’t grateful for the woman and everything she did for the woman from Les Cayes.
Dark fingers gathered the root from the plant known as Sumbul or Muskroot, and set it to the side of the altar, replacing the glass container back where she got it from. A box of chicken feet were opened, and one was gathered and put on top the root she just pulled from the bottle. A hide of a large cat-a mountain lion was draped over a stand made of local wood and glanced at as the woman thought about everything she would need for the ritual. That would be collected at the end. Hankies covered in dirt, grime and dust were on the right side of the altar, an off colored white one pulled from the pile and added to the other one she made. And finally, an assortment of chemicals from a brewery building that made a local ale for the pubs in the village. “Time ta be gett’n ‘da nie't start'n.” Atabei spoke quietly as she gathered the ingredients in both her arms, most of them pressing against the upper half of her semi covered torso.
☠ Death will have his night ☠
-
Atabei Narcisse
- Registered User
- Posts: 181
- Joined: 11 Apr 2016, 20:28
☠ Death will have his night ☠
Mourinwa
-
Atabei Narcisse
- Registered User
- Posts: 181
- Joined: 11 Apr 2016, 20:28
Re: ☠ Death will have his night ☠
With the ritual completed, Atabei would begin her night. This would consist of her usual tasks of checking her inventory and stock to see what she was short on, hunting for the ingredients by scavenging the soil of the earth, or tracking down two and four legged creatures. Another task was to get the blood of a vampire; and until recently the woman hadn’t any problems with that. The woman from Hispaniola had an arrangement with a local vampire that was an outcast, he had told her. Which was perfect for her. So a bargain had been made. He would give her some blood and in return, she would do a variety of rituals. Not necessarily those that were known to the vampires in the America’s or in village she currently lived near. Some of those rituals and spells went back to her childhood and the things she learned from watching and being taught from her aunt. One of the most revered Mambos in Les Cayes.
The woman grabbed a small filet knife from a stand of tools, along with a small piece of bark that was tossed on a pile of other pieces of barks all sizes and shapes, and began inscribing her list in a set of lines and what appeared to be pluses on the inside wall of the bark. The various pluses meant something to her, but to those in this part of the world? It would mean nothing to the white men. Except for the white man she gifted the dark walk of life to sometime after the winter, the year prior. He was a quick learner and was a good choice.
The list consisted of getting some more hides, since she had used her last one on the ritual tonight. Eyes of Dolls (white Baneberry), and some fangs from the bears that hung near the outer rim of the village. If she happened to come across some other things used for rituals, Atabei wouldn’t pass those up though. “First t’ng be first.”
The list was placed on her altar, next to the small filet knife she used, while the woman moved away from the altar the vampires used for their rituals, to a basket woven by old, dried reeds and dug around to find two ingredients she used on the nights she went searching for any and all ritual ingredients. An old tobacco can with a yellow wrapper around it housed the cornmeal the hispaniola woman would need, and the ash of burned wood from a house in the village was kept safely in some old flour sack that could hold more than what Atebai actually had.
The woman grabbed an old copper and brass tea kettle she used for mixing things-both wet and dry, tipped it upside down to make sure it was dry and then added a handful of flour and a handful of cornmeal inside it, grabbed a dented spoon and merged the two together. Once that was done, the spoon was cast aside on the sandy surface of the crypt she took refuge in for the last half year or so (moving to a new one every so often to not draw too much attention to any particular crypt), and dipped her finger in the cornmeal and flour mix. The woman found her way to both knees and began to draw. The first thing drawn was a straight line, followed by another line intersecting the previously made line, at the top. What appeared to be the letter ‘V’ came next, each ‘leg’ of the letter shot out from that first drawn line, only Atabei didn’t know it to be that way. Below that ‘V’ was an upside down ‘M’, the bottom lines connecting to the recently made ‘V.’ Next came two serpents with forked tongues, touching the first line, followed by a triangle of sorts below the first line ever made.
She would fill in other shapes, like basic star shape any modern day six year old could make, an upside down ‘V’ connecting to a right side up ‘V’ and three circles and arrow points. Atabei took a minute to remind herself of the image she learned well over a decade ago, add in a few other things and then nod her head. “Thur we be.” She whispered, pleased with her drawing to one of the most important loa’s; The Sky Father, or Great Master. She left him a couple fish she had taken from a villager the night before and tossed it next to the drawing, offering it as a sort of offering to the Sky Father before find her way back up from her knees. “‘Elp me ‘dis ev’n’in, Great Master. ‘Elp me find ‘wat I be look’n 'or.” Atabei took the finger that had been dipped multiple times in the tea kettle and wiped it what remained of her buckskin skirt and recollected both her list and filet knife.
As Atabei left the crypt, her eyes swerved from left to right, making sure no one was working this late at night from a funeral earlier in the day. With the coast clear and free of any nosy eyes, the woman with the skin the color of chestnut left the graveyard in search of the creatures in the thicket of trees.
The woman grabbed a small filet knife from a stand of tools, along with a small piece of bark that was tossed on a pile of other pieces of barks all sizes and shapes, and began inscribing her list in a set of lines and what appeared to be pluses on the inside wall of the bark. The various pluses meant something to her, but to those in this part of the world? It would mean nothing to the white men. Except for the white man she gifted the dark walk of life to sometime after the winter, the year prior. He was a quick learner and was a good choice.
The list consisted of getting some more hides, since she had used her last one on the ritual tonight. Eyes of Dolls (white Baneberry), and some fangs from the bears that hung near the outer rim of the village. If she happened to come across some other things used for rituals, Atabei wouldn’t pass those up though. “First t’ng be first.”
The list was placed on her altar, next to the small filet knife she used, while the woman moved away from the altar the vampires used for their rituals, to a basket woven by old, dried reeds and dug around to find two ingredients she used on the nights she went searching for any and all ritual ingredients. An old tobacco can with a yellow wrapper around it housed the cornmeal the hispaniola woman would need, and the ash of burned wood from a house in the village was kept safely in some old flour sack that could hold more than what Atebai actually had.
The woman grabbed an old copper and brass tea kettle she used for mixing things-both wet and dry, tipped it upside down to make sure it was dry and then added a handful of flour and a handful of cornmeal inside it, grabbed a dented spoon and merged the two together. Once that was done, the spoon was cast aside on the sandy surface of the crypt she took refuge in for the last half year or so (moving to a new one every so often to not draw too much attention to any particular crypt), and dipped her finger in the cornmeal and flour mix. The woman found her way to both knees and began to draw. The first thing drawn was a straight line, followed by another line intersecting the previously made line, at the top. What appeared to be the letter ‘V’ came next, each ‘leg’ of the letter shot out from that first drawn line, only Atabei didn’t know it to be that way. Below that ‘V’ was an upside down ‘M’, the bottom lines connecting to the recently made ‘V.’ Next came two serpents with forked tongues, touching the first line, followed by a triangle of sorts below the first line ever made.
She would fill in other shapes, like basic star shape any modern day six year old could make, an upside down ‘V’ connecting to a right side up ‘V’ and three circles and arrow points. Atabei took a minute to remind herself of the image she learned well over a decade ago, add in a few other things and then nod her head. “Thur we be.” She whispered, pleased with her drawing to one of the most important loa’s; The Sky Father, or Great Master. She left him a couple fish she had taken from a villager the night before and tossed it next to the drawing, offering it as a sort of offering to the Sky Father before find her way back up from her knees. “‘Elp me ‘dis ev’n’in, Great Master. ‘Elp me find ‘wat I be look’n 'or.” Atabei took the finger that had been dipped multiple times in the tea kettle and wiped it what remained of her buckskin skirt and recollected both her list and filet knife.
As Atabei left the crypt, her eyes swerved from left to right, making sure no one was working this late at night from a funeral earlier in the day. With the coast clear and free of any nosy eyes, the woman with the skin the color of chestnut left the graveyard in search of the creatures in the thicket of trees.
Mourinwa