your body, an altar

<big>your body, an altar</big> [[begin]] [[content warnings]] [[credits]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89e08016e0001d7b343/1565243565736/ofeliasdream.mp3" autoplay loop> (set: $reliquarydesire to false) (set: $reliquaryfear to false) (set: $carrigandesire to false) (set: $carriganfear to false) (set: $shadowdesire to false) (set: $shadowfear to false) (set: $reliquarychoice to false) (set: $carriganchoice to false) (set: $shadowchoice to false) (set: $refusal to false)

Every month they arrive, and every month you offer yourself. Others in the village do not understand. As the sun bleeds back below the horizon, they are the first to flee and lock their doors. Fallow fields are tended by shaking hands in the coldest months, when light blooms late and flees early. You stay. [[You wait. -> Waiting]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

The Gasping Reliquary * breathplay / eroticized asphyxiation * eroticized religion / ritual * multiple observers during intimacy * descriptions of past trauma and violence Carrigan, Hound of Broken Teeth * descriptions of past trauma and violence * descriptions of blood and gore * physical intimacy with a partially shifted werewolf Labyrinth's Shadow * significant size difference * surrounded by darkness * consumptive / claustrophobic imagery * descriptions of past trauma and violence Return to [[First]] screen.

writing/design: @sixfeetzen art/design: @zeuswares music (royalty-free): * Title Page: Ofelia's Dream (Bensound) * Supplicant's Bell: Singing Bowl 2 (juskiddink) * Reliquary Theme: Gothic Horror (Purple Planet Music) * Shadow Theme: Of Lost Souls (Purple Planet Music) * Carrigan Theme: Paranoia (Purple Planet Music) Links: * https://www.purple-planet.com/ * https://www.bensound.com/royalty-free-music/track/ofelias-dream * https://freesound.org/people/ Return to [[First]] screen.

Despite appearances, you know there is nothing to fear. In a world of predators, you are well-skilled prey - they enjoy you too much to end the chase. Some are older than the fragile concept of time, their true names long replaced by the titles that mortals gasp; others have just burst forth from a womb of nightmares, shaking off blood and pale fluids. [[All seek one such as you. -> monthone]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

You have your own name, of course, but they call you [[supplicant.]] At least, that's what you hear in your dreams. So few of them can speak, much less in a language you recognize, and brushing against the words threatens to rend you open. Unnamable dread claws at the inside of your skull when you meet ones that howl or weep, the sort of fear that burns every layer of self-preservation from your flesh. Fear, yes, but anticipation too. Consent stifles those baser instincts; experience tells you how well you will be [[rewarded. -> rewards]] The night is young, and [[they have arrived. -> choiceone]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

To plead, to bow, to request. At the feet of another you serve. Except this is far from the truth. Your flesh is supple and yielding, your mind bends but does not break. It is not surrender these creatures crave - it is [[understanding. -> monthone]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

The most simple gift is [[coins]], and currency comes most often from those who were human once. Others bring [[food.]] Sometimes there are [[trinkets.]] [[Clothes]] are the hardest to accept, for they so rarely fit. Offerings, all. You accept them like any other altar, [[with silent gratitude. -> monthone]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

They are never alone. Every year is leaner than the one before it, honing natural hungers into starvation's edge. You are the only one on the street at this hour, having lit the lantern above your doorway. A red candle flickers and melts inside of a cage of iron, yearning for the waxed paper that shrouds it from a damp, perpetual fog. Sulfur lingers on your fingertips as you toss the match away, its fall muffled by a pool of brackish water gathered between cobblestones. With everyone else feigning sleep or absence, your heartbeat and that of the village are one and the same. Past dripping gutters and guttering flame, what do you hear? [[High voices chanting their lament.]] [[A fractured howl calling to the moon.]] [[Every light hissing around you as it's extinguished.]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

They remember why the etched metal matters, even if its weight no longer burdens them. While the coins are pitted, unrecognizable pieces, salt or acid-scorched, bearing the face of a monarch that may no longer rule, the merchants accept them nonetheless. Some times they wash their hands in front of you afterwards, but as long as the trade is equal, it's difficult to mind [[such details. -> rewards]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

Some are cut wide for heads with different shapes than your own, or possess sleeves sewn low to accomodate newly grown limbs. Yet you have learned to mend and alter what is given, how to dye black that which has been soaked through with blood. That you always look to be in mourning is a source of [[amusement. -> rewards]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

Meat yet bleeding, unnervingly large bones for stew. Wet, thick marrow and clinging fat to warm you when winter's bite presses through the walls. Sweet fruits that leave you drunk on rot and sinful visions. Those who bear the old church's name carry bread, wrapped in linens of the fallen, with baker's marks from guilds [[long lost to history. -> rewards]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

Emerald eyes plucked from scarred marble faces, stone charms shot through with smooth black veins, a jagged crystal that pulses whenever illness strikes. They are worth more than you can bargain for them, leaving the wealth of dead nations gathering dust on [[your shelves. -> rewards]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

A cadre of women in white bear Her through the street. White like bleached bone and funeral marble, habits and blindfolds obscuring all but six chanting mouths from view. They are pall-bearers, carrying a shrine to fallen divinity. A saint dwells within, whose miracles in life have passed into legend, and who rose from death after a fateful martyrdom. She was severed in twain, and those few who have carried on the old ways act as her feet. Twelve steps pause at your presence. The chanting ceases, and the nuns listen, but not to you; no, they hear a voice your ears cannot reach, and translate a withered tongue into speech you understand. The Gasping Reliquary bids you to shelter her for the night. Do you accept? [[Yes. She and her sisterhood are welcome in my house. -> reliquaryacceptance]] [[No, I will not offer myself to her this night. -> reliquaryrefusal]] [[I wish to know more about the Reliquary. -> reliquaryinfo]] [[My choice is not yet made. Perhaps, but perhaps not. -> reliquarydelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

Swaying and delving, legs and arms bend at impossible angles as the saint within bleeds them to ecstasy. Ecstasy you are soon to share, for the price of what resides within your lungs. It is a wonder they can bear her weight for so long. Saints are a slice of perfection, implacable and holy. Yet humanity's flaw lingers in the icon, as with every symbol made in every world. The Reliquary follows you to the door, which you pry open as far as you can. She can only fit with the nuns' utmost care, the subtle aura of light around her banishing the shadows from your home. There are two questions you must ask of her. [[What do you yearn for? -> reliquarydesire1]] [[What do you fear? -> reliquaryfear1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You bow deeply. Even a refusal must come with respect, for the Reliquary is part of the world's tapestry, a unique history embedded deep in her skin. She returns your devotion with a subtle nod of her own, accepting your choice absent question. The nuns carrying her bid you goodnight in a chorus of gentle whispers, and shepherd the Reliquary down your street until she falls out of sight. [[I seek the wolf who calls to the moon. -> carriganchoice1]] [[There is a crawling darkness that knows my name. -> shadowchoice1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

"Will you tell me more about Her? Forgive me, for I was not raised in your faith." It is the politest way you can think to say that the temple she served fell to conflagration long ago, its sacraments rendered into ash that choked the air for centuries. She alone carries the memory of it, and the pale sisterhood that carries her honors that memory. Three hands beckon you forward with a bend like a branch's sway. When you approach, the bottoms of your feet ache, like they've been struck, like you walk on a bare stone [[floor. -> reliquaryinfo2]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You cannot be certain. This choice is one of weight, of sacrifice, and it does not matter how many times you have endured it before. If it not a kindness to both of you, it should be done. The Reliquary senses your hesitation, although the words that spill from her lips are older than every building in the village. You cannot divine their meaning, but the tone is familiar enough. She is happy to wait, or to leave--whichever pleases you. [[I seek the wolf who calls to the moon. -> carriganchoice1]] [[There is a crawling darkness that knows my name. -> shadowchoice1]] [[You have changed your mind. Invite the Reliquary to follow you. -> reliquaryacceptance]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

A howl splits the air, and your blood answers like thunder. Loud, pulsing, rolling through your veins and back into a fragile, hungry heart. Heavy nails clatter against stone before the beast comes into view. Black fur spills from every inch of his body, muscle bulging under scarred hide. You know the wolf's name, for there are no others left of his kind. Carrigan, noble Carrigan. His human shape was stolen long ago, thanks to a hunter's silver trap. The same trap juts from his chest now, cutting upward into his jaw. Moonlit metal glitters between cracked teeth, keeping him in agony's grasp. Sanguine eyes fall on yours. He cannot speak, but you know what he asks for. [[He is welcome to my home and comforts. -> carriganacceptance]] [[I wish to know more about Carrigan. -> carriganinfo]] [[I will not offer myself to him this night. -> carriganrefusal]] [[My mind is not made up yet. -> carrigandelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

The last to go out is the lantern by your door. Everything is darkness, but within the darkness is movement. The air about you parts as a solid presence appears. Solid and undeniably massive. You know castle spires and cliff nests, heights that any mortal could fail to climb, but the Shadow would enshroud them, one and all. When the Shadow speaks, they are chorus and calamity. There are too many voices in too many languages to tell one from the other, but their yearning resonates like a whisper against the back of your neck. [[I welcome the Shadow into my home. -> shadowacceptance]] [[There is so much about them I do not know. -> shadowinfo]] [[I will not offer myself to them this night. -> shadowrefusal]] [[My mind is not yet made up. -> shadowdelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

Can darkness smile? Does a shadow have a mouth of its own? These truths are distant now, but the Shadow relaxes around you. Each breath no longer draws night into your lungs, and through them, you can see pinpricks of stars. Without the lantern, you feel for the latch of the door behind you. It turns with well-oiled ease, and when it opens, every candle within your room is instantly snuffed out. As you enter, the Shadow enters, an ever-weaving spiral of gloom. To fit their shape inside your home, the darkness deepens. Less like fog, more like water barely held at bay. There are two questions you must ask them. [[What do you yearn for? -> shadowdesire]] [[What do you fear? -> shadowfear]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

You state the words aloud, for it does not seem that the Shadow can read your mind. All around you, the darkness transforms. A flurry of shapes paint stygian pictures on starlight; a crown, a maze, the sun bearing down on weeping captives. That is how these spirits died, searching for survival in a labyrinth meant to strip away every last vestige of hope. The king who imprisoned them spent decades in power, amusing himself on their fear. One spirit may knock aside a wayward glass, or turn the angle of the wind just so. Ten can slip inside a lock and find the secrets of its mechanisms. A thousand rip a monarch down to the shadow of his desperate, screaming soul, and leave nothing else behind. [[I offer the Shadow a place of refuge. -> shadowacceptance]] [[No, I will not offer myself to them this night. -> shadowrefusal]] [[My decision is not yet made. -> shadowdelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

On another night, this meeting could be fate, a joyful joining. Yet not this one, not now. You refuse with a gentle bow, not wishing to accidentally bump against the Shadow's formidable size. It is a quiet acknowledgement of their agony, bending to the burden that lays within. The Shadow's answer is of a similar kind. Severing into a thousand strands of darkness, they return the night sky to you like it's captured in a net, the moon the silver fish in its center. Then they fuse once more, withdrawing and spilling down the street in a fluid black wave. [[I seek the wolf who calls to the moon. -> carriganchoice1]] [[The distant chanting pulls me away. -> reliquarychoice1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

Pain radiates from every shift of the abyss around you, strangled by the threads of the past. Their need is great, as overwhelming as the Shadow's shape. It is fair if you cannot endure it, but deeply welcome if both desire and ability flourishes within you this night. Darkness beyond darkness splits itself, exposing an arch to the moonlit sky. So the Shadow offers an exit, waiting in silence. [[I seek the wolf who calls to the moon. -> carriganchoice1]] [[The distant chanting pulls me away. -> reliquarychoice1]] [[You have changed your mind. Invite the Shadow to follow you. -> shadowacceptance]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

His broad shoulders sink with relief, fur settling like grass absent wind. You step back towards the door, the latch opening with a solid click of metal. As Carrigan follows, the red light of your lantern spills sleek across his body. Tattoos possess what remains of his bare skin, sigils and spirals of faded ink. They must belong to the werewolves, for you cannot translate their meaning beyond an appreciation of the artistry. He is of a height, and has to duck to avoid the top of the entryway. When you close the door behind Carrigan, copper and musk fills your nose, dripping down the back of your tongue. There are two questions you must ask him. [[What do you yearn for? -> carrigandesire]] [[What do you fear? -> carriganfear]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Legends call him the Hound of Broken Teeth. You think it is cruel to name someone after what they have lost, especially when they can voice no protest. "May I step closer?" you ask. He permits you with a curve of his claws, for a nod would cause untold pain. His breath is heavy with blood, but sharp pine and sweet sap lingers in his fur. Despite Carrigan's size, it is the trap that fills you with fear, sharp and glittering. Yet that is a part of him too. To ignore his suffering would be a disservice. [[Offer Carrigan refuge within your home. -> carriganacceptance]] [[I do not wish to offer myself to him this night. -> carriganrefusal]] [[I remain unsure of my decision. -> carrigandelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

His pain is plain to see, but you do not wish to bear the blood of that sacrifice now. To let unvarnished agony spill upon you is a great exchange, one that must be taken with care. You look Carrigan in the eyes, acknowledging the weight he carries. The reflection between gazes proves you honor what he has suffered, even if you cannot walk the same path with him tonight. Carrigan presses his claws together in gratitude, then turns away to the street. He lopes with a slow rhythm before hitting his stride, seeking refuge in the woods outside the village. [[A holy chant catches my ear. -> reliquarychoice1]] [[The shadows call, and I must answer. -> shadowchoice1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Such a choice requires deep thought. You must know yourself, for you cannot truly know Carrigan without making yourself vulnerable in turn. Is that a vulnerability you wish for? His claws and fangs will not seek purchase in your skin, but agony surrounds him like a shroud. The silver prevents true healing; there is no cure, only acts of temporary comfort. Would that you could ease the shards of metal from his skin, but that is not your role. The wolf regards you in patient silence, body relaxed as he can will it in such a state. [[I hear a lost saint's chorus. -> reliquarychoice1]] [[The darkness itself beckons me. -> shadowchoice1]] [[Actually, I wish to share myself with Carrigan. -> carriganacceptance]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $reliquarydesire to true)} Desire is raw. Molten like metal, shapeless until meeting the resistance that will frame it. The Reliquary resisted every temptation in her first life, but the goddess that once enthralled her is no more. One immutable hand reaches out to you, whitestone flesh and smooth gold veins. Cool nails frame your cheek. Incense clouds your throat, warm black resin and purifying myrrh. It spills down into your lungs, claiming them as holy organs. If you wish to touch Her, she asks for your [[Breath. -> relbreath]] If you wish to know Her, she asks for your [[Worship. -> relworship]] {(if: $reliquaryfear is true)[[[Welcome her home. -> reliquarywelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you fear? -> reliquaryfear1]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $reliquaryfear to true)} Her hands fold together in prayer, fingers aligned in something beyond symmetry. The Reliquary is motionless; you can only be sure of time's passage by the clockwork of your heart. Then dread strikes it still. Loss strips you of your name, your mind, severs every thread from the loom of self. The world itself has forgotten you, unmade you. Fear purges like venom from blood as the Reliquary's fingers part. You shiver with the cleansing, but now you understand what terrifies her the most. {(if: $reliquarydesire is true)[[[Welcome her home. -> reliquarywelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you yearn for? -> reliquarydesire1]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

The Reliquary answers your greeting by inclining her head. As she bows, the *acoemeti*--the name flourishes in your mind like wax under a seal--lower themselves to one knee as well, honoring you as you honor their mistress. They must stay, you realize. Without the nuns, She is bound to what carries Her. A blush stains your cheeks, but you know they cannot watch, and their chant precludes listening. [[Look at the altar. -> reliquaryaltar]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

The Reliquary answers your greeting by inclining her head. As she bows, the *acoemeti*--somehow, you know their names now--lower themselves to one knee as well, honoring you as you honor their mistress. They must stay, you realize. Without the nuns, She is bound to what carries Her. A blush stains your cheeks, but you know they will not watch, and their chant precludes listening. [[Look at the altar. -> reliquaryaltar]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $carrigandesire to true)} Desire is transformation. It makes and remakes both those who desire and those who are desired, shattered mirrors turned towards one another. Carrigan, split between shapes, holds every change and contradiction inside him at once. He lives as a wolf and yearns as a man, claiming both and owning neither. So it reflects upon you, as you are reflected in the trap around Carrigan's throat, as the candlelight reflects upon your bodies in a dance of shadow and light. If you wish to touch Carrigan, he asks to be [[Held.]] If you wish to know Carrigan, he asks for [[Comfort.]] {(if: $carriganfear is true)[[[Welcome him home. -> carriganwelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you fear? -> carriganfear]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $carriganfear to true)} His eyes fall low, beset with shame. In Carrigan's days of glory, you imagine he feared nothing at all. He gestures to the trap, first and foremost, the shattered foundation of his jaw. Carrigan's tongue moves this way and that, feeling out the phantom shape of the mouth he once had. While he can still howl from deep in his throat, words fight him even on the best of days. He knows how many see him as not just a monster, but monstrous, a beast to be slain. To be misunderstood is what wounds him most of all. {(if: $carrigandesire is true)[[[Welcome him home. -> carriganwelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you yearn for? -> carrigandesire]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

You offer Carrigan your hands, which he takes between gnarled claws and leather-rough palms. Then you kiss the air near his wounded cheek, greeting him as you would any friend who has long been away from home. He squeezes your fingers in turn, a huff of acknowledgement spreading hot breath across your brow. Blood and silver, the makings of its own ritual. You are a ritual too. Or at least, a part of one. [[Look at the altar. -> carriganaltar]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $shadowdesire to true)} Desire is amorphous. It holds a thousand forms at once, and what sparks excitement under your skin one night may be devastating on another. The Shadow knows this. They are a council of spirits with unified will, reborn to collaborative purpose. Their needs are many, but they understand you cannot bear them all at once. Thus, they distill their hungers into two dark paths. If you wish to touch the Shadow, they ask for your [[Heat.]] If you wish to know the Shadow, they ask to be [[Connected.]] {(if: $shadowfear is true)[[[Welcome them home. -> shadowwelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you fear? -> shadowfear]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $shadowfear to true)} Your head spins with their answer. Suddenly you are running in a strange place, encountering towering walls and dead ends at every turn. The stone is polished smooth, resisting your desperate attempts to climb out of the labyrinth. There is no sense of time or place. You are so afraid that you lose the anchor of your own name. Without refuge, a safe harbor or sheltering shadow, to run only provokes greater suffering. You are lost. {(if: $shadowdesire is true)[[[Welcome them home. -> shadowwelcome]]] (else:)[[[What do you yearn for? -> shadowdesire]]]} <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DB6lHva.png" alt="altarcenter" width="913" height="420"> <center>You have done this so many times before. This is just another night, in a way. Another beautiful, glorious night.</center> <center>[[Begin. -> reliquaryoffering]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

Embraced by the dark, you smile, honoring them as you would any long-awaited guest. The crescent of your teeth is a sliver of moonlight against the eternal night cradling you. Surrounded by the Shadow, you cannot see, but this is your home. You know every plank of wood at your feet, every rough line of mortar that holds the walls together. Thus you are drawn to its central feature, turned like a compass needle to unerring north. [[Look at the altar. -> shadowaltar]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DB6lHva.png" alt="altarcenter" width="913" height="420"> <center>You have done this so many times before. This is just another night, in a way. Another beautiful, glorious night.</center> <center>[[Begin. -> shadowoffering]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DB6lHva.png" alt="altarcenter" width="913" height="420"> <center>You have done this so many times before. This is just another night, in a way. Another beautiful, glorious night.</center> <center>[[Begin. -> carriganoffering]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

Your mind falls to center, nourished by purpose. The next choice is yours and yours alone. What the Shadow presents--and represents--is only one piece of the equation. How do you honor their needs this night, without forsaking your own? Even darkness, weightless and formless, may tip the scales of one's perception. When the world is cast in shadow, it no longer looks the same. What is familiar may become frightening; what never catches your eye now possesses deep allure. [[Offer your Heat. -> shadowemotionaloffering]] [[Offer your Connection. -> shadowphysicaloffering]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

The ancient relic grounds you like the delight of a familiar bed, warm from a good night's rest. Now you must chart the path ahead. Carrigan stands as a torch in the center of your room, light and passion waiting to be guided. How do you cherish this light without getting lost? What would extinguish you both if the wrong steps are taken? You may appeal to the beast or appeal to the man; both will answer, in their own way. [[Offer your Embrace. -> carriganphysicaloffering]] [[Offer your Comforts. -> carriganemotionaloffering]] [[I have offered enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

No one is an island. We are ships upon the sea, in need of refuge, desperate for anchors. To be adrift can be an adventure unlike any other, but to live only upon the water is to invite a certain sort of rot. A withering, where one may die surrounded by bounty, and no way to welcome its treasures. If you are a ship, then so is the Shadow. You may anchor them as they anchor you, drawing one another to sublime shores. [[I speak of my birth. -> shadowemote1]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

From a faint distance, they can divine the heat that radiates from your skin, but to become the hearth the Shadow desires, you must offer more. First, you extend your hand towards the swathe of darkness. A part of the Shadow coils around you, starting at the fingertips and sweeping up towards your knuckles. They are desperately cold. Every brush of the Shadow is a kiss of ice, emphemeral but unmistakable. You shiver as they taper up your arm like a glove, claiming flesh by inches. [[Let them explore you. -> shadowphys1]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $refusal to true)} This maze exhausts you. In truth, you can bear no more. The Shadow senses your reluctance, the sudden withdrawal, and they too withdraw. They will not risk draining you, sabotaging the limits of self and sense. As they release their hold on your room, your eyes adjust to the night once more, which seems all the brighter now. You can see the edges of furniture, the slice of silver that lingers between door and floor. A chorus of murmurs offer thanks. Even with so many tongues in the mix, the word emerges in beautiful unison. After the echo of gratitude fades, the Shadow disappears from your home and into open darkness. You are left to rest with [[the altar. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

The Reliquary commands your attention once more. You have a choice. What she desires is clear, and you may avail yourself of whatever methods are most appealing. That is the delicate interplay of need. To give, to be taken; even acts of dominance require a certain vulnerability. From *vulnare*, 'to wound'. [[Offer your Breath. -> reliquaryphysicaloffering]] [[Offer your Worship. -> reliquaryemotionaloffering]] [[I have offered enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You press two fingers to your mouth, and behind her veil, the Reliquary smiles. Then she summons you beneath the curtain of white. Lace parts in welcome, her cold hands a counter to its pale, subtle sting across your bare flesh. The panel beneath her body presses into your hips. A hollow golden heart rebels against asymmetry in the center of her chest, halcyon veins tracing bright rivers up her throat to the delta of the Reliquary's mouth. [[Part your lips. -> reqphys1]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You cannot know the true shape of her faith. Every rite and ritual is locked within the confines of the Reliquary's mind, denied without a shared tongue to utter them. Yet the body can be both translator and translated. There is intent in every movement, a message you can offer with both respect and awe. She is an icon, but not an object. Both saint and servant, fault and foundation. That you understand very, very well. [[Fall to your knees. -> reqemote1]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $refusal to true)} The Reliquary withdraws, her overwhelming presence falling away like a cloak from your shoulders. There is no weight, no expectation. She understands. This was a great deal to ask for, and her gratitude washes over you like a ripple in the wind. It cools the heat from your skin, offering a blessing of restoration. Her *acoemeti* rise as one, their free hands making sigils of protection for you. The door of your house is urged open, then pushed shut with a gentle creak of hinges as the Reliquary exits. You are left to rest with [[the altar. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

You sit against the head of the bed, back pressed against the frame, and cross your legs one over the other. Carrigan betrays his surprise with a tilt of his head. Even a true offer of kindness can be a shock, when others have abused the gift. So you wait, refusing to rush him. Carrigan approaches the bed with slow steps, then dares to press a knee upon it. A few tense heartbeats pass before he turns to lay down, the side of Carrigan's head flat against your knee. [[Guide his head to your lap. -> carriganphys1]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Some may savor being unshackled, but for others, familiar landmarks are all that hold them together. Memory is dozens of links in a series of chains, binding to each other in unexpected ways. You cannot give Carrigan his home. That is beyond you, beyond anything but the past that once held that truth. But you have your home, and together, you can share this night. [[Stoke the fire. -> carriganemote1]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $refusal to true)} Your mouth is heavy with metal. Tension takes you, and it hurts to swallow. Carrigan notices the almost imperceptible shift with immediacy. He withdraws, changing his posture so the towering frame of his body no longer looms over you. Lithe steps bring him to your threshold, back to the door. He bows as best he can, offering gratitude for all that was given. Claws click against the latch as he works it open. Carrigan ducks back into the moonlight, leaving you in peace. Your gaze returns to [[the altar. | altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bc290e12bc10001e14008/1565246098605/122647__juskiddink__singing-bowl-2.mp3" autoplay >

The slow incline of the Reliquary's head hoods her eyes, lids opaque as parchment under light. Smooth fingers tip your chin upwards, every movement divine deliberation. When her lips meet yours, it's impossible not to gasp. With that exhale, the Reliquary draws you in, pulling from the depths of your lungs. Her mouth holds the tang of metal, saint's blood made mercurial. [[Your throat quivers and tightens. -> reqphys2]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

It is a position of comfort and familiarity. With calves and feet flush against dark wood, you are more attuned to yourself. The Reliquary reigns above you, beatific. Golden eyes gleam behind her veil, curious to see what you'll do next. [[Bow your head. -> reqemote2]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

Air, blessed air. Invisible, indestructible, yet what treasure holds more value? The Reliquary's hands travel down the anchor of your jaw to the taut, straining cords of muscle in your throat. Her fingers trace down the scaffolding of your shoulders, which sag on the brink of collapse. Yet she holds you tight, promising claim and comfort in equal measure. [[Your lungs burn with holy fire. -> reqphys3]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You lose all sense of your body. It is merely a vessel for ephemeral light, pouring through you as the Reliquary swallows your breath. Within that light is the singular string of your soul. Her presence plucks it, and the sensation reverberates so deep that you spend your last bit of air in a muffled cry against her mouth. Heat, you feel heat. The Reliquary's body is warm now, holding it like a temple roof under the sun. [[Tears of ecstasy pour down your face. -> reqphys4]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

Your vision shatters, dividing the Reliquary's face into slivers of darkness, a thousand shattered angles. When the seal of her lips breaks from yours, you tremble. Every boundary of self struggles to reform--body and blood, mind and memory. Nothing is left but the instinct for survival, the first act written into the birth of existence. [[Breathe in. -> reqphys5]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $reliquarychoice to true)} You gasp, drinking down air until you are gorged with it. The world has never felt so real, nor so heavy, for you are grounded like a magnet clutches metal. For a moment, the Reliquary was allowed to feel the same way. The *acoemeti* whisper their gratitude in a kind chorus, bearing their saint with one arm each so they can use the other to shepherd you towards bed. Your sheets are a soft, cool cradle. As the glow of the Reliquary fades from view, the last thing you see is a hand reach towards her heart. When the door to your home falls shut, an offering awaits upon [[the altar. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(if: $refusal is true)[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DB6lHva.png" alt="altarempty" width="913" height="420" ALIGN="center">]} {(if: $reliquarychoice is true)[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/V8pqef7.png" alt="altarempty" width="913" height="420" ALIGN="center">]} {(if: $carriganchoice is true)[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/jnLV0Sv.png" alt="altarempty" width="913" height="420" ALIGN="center">]} {(if: $shadowchoice is true)[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/ljTRLXd.png" alt="altarempty" width="913" height="420" ALIGN="center">]} <center>Tomorrow night, you will step outside your door again.</center> <center>You honor them with your compassion, [[First]] Among Supplicants.</center>

Your eyes fall to the *acoemetis'* feet, resting in wooden sandals, flesh and blood and nerve bound by linen. The Reliquary opens her mouth to speak. It's with a rasp of weight against stone, an ache of unavoidable friction. You cannot know the words, but you understand their rhythm. She reaches out to you from an era long lost, binding prayer to purpose. [[Listen to Her voice. -> reqemote3]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You affix the syllables to memory, every new sound and the quiet spaces in between them. Listen, and listen well. When her call to prayer ends, something stirs in your lungs. It's a gentle hum, a song that you've never been taught. One she must know, for the Reliquary smiles as the vibration rises to your lips. It is a smile of loss, holding a single piece of something once whole. Yet that single piece remains. [[Kiss the floor in front of her. -> reqemote4]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

You are not sure if the gesture startled or pleased her, but the gasp that answers surprises you in turn. A glimmer of life, captured in the contradiction of her namesake. Heat rushes up the back of your neck. Such is the distinct pleasure of supplication, not only to give, but to be received. [[Rise to your feet. -> reqemote5]] [[I have given enough. -> reliquaryrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $reliquarychoice to true)} A subtle ache lingers in your knees, pleasant and warm. *Rest, Supplicant.* Her lips do not move; no sound is uttered. Yet there is no mistaking that the Reliquary herself spoke, and you understood. The *acoemeti* gesture with their swaying hands towards the bed. At their request, you curl up on gifted furs and cold sheets. Before the Reliquary leaves, she leaves you an offering on [[the altar. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

Your other arm comes next. It is a tender devouring, painless save for the incessant chill. In a way, you have never felt so warm, like a blazing fire in comparison to their caress of frost. You can no longer see the limbs the Shadow holds. Their darkness is too complete, severing these pieces of you from the rest of the world. Yet you know they remain, and have no fear. [[Let them embrace you. -> shadowphys2]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

The Shadow surges forward in a wave that claims you from head to toe. You cannot see, cannot hear, but it is impossible not to feel the veil of calignosity that lays over every inch of your body. When you breathe in, the chill follows into your lungs. It makes a new home there, basking in the warmth that abounds from your pounding heart. You are framed by tenebrous touch, and in turn, the Shadow is reforged by the fire inside you. [[Float in the darkness. -> shadowphys3]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

Perhaps the Shadow commands gravity entirely, and you are a moon in orbit, looping around and through. Maybe you are the center, and they play out a timeless rhythm over all that you are. Either way, heat leaches from the deepest core of yourself. You shake and tremble out of instinct, far deeper and older than willpower. The Shadow pulls you far into the abyss, then somehow further still. [[Welcome the chill deep within. -> shadowphys4]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

The cold is a part of them. It is a symbol of all the Shadow has lost, and will lose still in days to come. It splinters you like a cleaver to bone. Yet you offer up the marrow without prejudice, without doubt. Such vulnerable heat, taken and licked clean, until there is only a polished hollow behind. [[Be their vessel. -> shadowphys5]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $shadowchoice to true)} The Shadow coils deep inside you, lingering as long as either of you can stand. Yet such a union can only be temporary. They retreat with the same care that they approached, allowing the rhythms of your body to reignite again--blood to heart, heart to lungs. Your mind glitters in shared relief as the last of their darkness slips away. You are spent, fatigued in a way that mortal words defy. The Shadow changes once more to shepherd you towards the comfort of your bed. They lay you to rest and leave an [[offering. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

What you know of it, at least, gleaned from stories by those who raised you. Did they know you would become a Supplicant? You think not, although it can be hard to read the wisdom of one's elders. When your life was cast into the world, you also began to cast a shadow. The darkness around you clings to the notion of that shadow, starved for similarity. [[I speak of my youth. -> shadowemote2]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

Fleeting, but not so fragile as many say. The foundation of resilience takes its shape in early days, when you face a world you do not know, one that often wishes to make you small. Small as a light within a candle's cage. The Shadow envelops that light, observing rather than devouring the gentle glow. They do not fear you. That is a comfort on both sides, for they can merely sit in your presence, knowing and becoming known. [[I speak of my labors. -> shadowemote3]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

You were not always the Supplicant, after all. Many would be surprised at the work you have done, what truths lay beyond the rumors of your origin. The Shadow dances around you at this notion of movement, of creation. For what is expression of the body and self if not an ever-growing creation, a world within the world? They have so many names, so much knowledge, but to unravel one thread from another would be a monumental task. You are a silver thread amongst the tapestry, welcome for your oddity. [[I speak of my family. -> shadowemote4]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

Family of blood and family of choice, family of law and family of truth. Some are one and the same. Others are distant, threads that connect to this village only by virtue of your memory. The Shadow answers with a play of mourning, splashing shadows of those they remember across your walls in echo after echo. There are too many families to count, generations that have been spared no ink or paper in the tomes of history. They are the ink now. You offer them a place to write. [[I speak of home. -> shadowemote5]] [[I have given enough. -> shadowrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $shadowchoice to true)} Home. Even with the best of memories, the word makes your heart ache. There is such weight in so few letters, an anchor's iron dragged across the bottom of the sea. Yet the weight keeps you here, from being sublimated into the pain that surrounds you. If only for a few heartbeats, you are a balm for that pain. The Shadow soaks themself in it as deep as they can, then rises to the surface like a diver seeking breath. The darkness settles. Exhaustion washes over you from dredging up so much of yourself, and the Shadow acknowledges this with another change in shape. They lay you to rest and leave an [[offering. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

You know he is not comfortable against such a harsh angle of bone, but Carrigan will not claim what is not offered. So you present it with a light hand against the back of his head, far from the pained angle of his jaw. Carrigan follows the touch, finding balance in the cradle of your lap. He lets out a rasping sound, deep and plaintive. A request for more, if you are willing. [[Stroke along his ears and nape. -> carriganphys2]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

So you draw your fingers over the sweep of canine ears, high upon the majesty of Carrigan's wolfish skull. The fur there is fine as silk, smoothed into place by the slow rhythm of your touch. Then you seek between his ears, tapering down the back of Carrigan's head. A column of tension leaves his neck rigid, muscles locked around one another. With your thumb, you press slow circles into Carrigan's nape until one knot quivers and releases. Then another, and another. [[Bring Carrigan into your arms. -> carriganphys3]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

You pull gently at his shoulders, an invitation rather than a demand. Carrigan moves with you as you shift down the length of the bed, making it that much easier to wrap your arms around the breadth of his back. The topography there is complex as a mountain range; peaks and valleys of muscle, puckered scars and smooth trails of ink. You note the features one and all before Carrigan lets out a soft, curious rumble. [[Let his weight sink upon you. -> carriganphys4]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Carrigan drapes his body completely over yours, his height pressing your face into the curve of his throat. It must pain him--the sharp edges of the hunter's trap prick at your clothes--but apparently, it is well worth the cost. You breathe in, senses consumed by blood's bitter perfume. Under that is sweet sap and cold silver, the heady salt of sweat. Heat blossoms between the two of you, bodies in imperfect alignment. [[Hold him tight. -> carriganphys5]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $carriganchoice to true)} Carrigan may be hurt, but he is not broken. You put strength into the embrace, grounding him against you as time drips away from the nearby candles. When discomfort grows beyond endurance, he slowly extricates himself, rising with care above you. Gratitude shines in his eyes, and he allows you to drink it in before climbing off the bed. Carrigan reaches for the blanket you have folded at the foot of the frame, unfolding its lush red fabric before laying it over you. After you are bid to rest, Carrigan approaches the altar and leaves [[an offering -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Your first task is to rouse the hearth from its sleeping coals. With the old iron of a poker in your hands, you urge the remnants of wood this way and that, exposing hungry heat to open air. There is enough tinder left by the fireside to feed it well, orange-gold sparks joining to make open flame. When you finish, Carrigan sits down in front of the hearth. Chilblains threaten his clawed feet where fur meets flesh, so the heat must bring dire relief. [[Lay a blanket around his shoulders. -> carriganemote2]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Your favorite blanket is woven from a deep red wool that always reminds you of a pomegranate's chambers. Fetching it from the foot of the bed, you unfold the blanket's splendor before draping it around Carrigan's shoulders. A few strands of fur poke through loops in the weave, stretched by age and use. He pulls the blanket around his entire body, then draws in a deep breath to scent what memories lay inside the fabric. [[Offer Carrigan broth from the cauldron. -> carriganemote3]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

You return the vessel to the hearth, and add another handful of neck bones and knuckles for good measure. He deserves a hearty meal, for he must have run so far to reach you. As the broth bubbles, you sit beside him at the fire in companiable silence. Despite his ragged state, Carrigan looks content, enamored with your gifts. It is difficult for him to eat. Even with a bowl he struggles, but does not ask for your help. Once Carrigan finishes, you take the remnants back, then gesture to the bed. [[Bid Carrigan to rest. -> carriganemote4]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Sleep is deeply precious, yet so easily stolen. A hundred thieves--pain, labor, unstoppable excitement--sweep as much as they can into their pockets, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion. So it must be with Carrigan, who has no bed of his own. He carries the blanket with him at your urging, then lays down across the clean sprawl of your sheets. He is too tall for the frame, but curls into himself, tense and protective. It is only after several minutes that he starts to relax, eyes fluttering closed as slumber comes. [[Watch over him. -> carriganemote5]] [[I have given enough. -> carriganrevokeconsent]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

{(set: $carriganchoice to true)} It is a silent vigil, lasting nearly until dawn. When Carrigan wakes, he is startled, teeth flashing in warning. You take a step back, allowing him a moment to compose himself again. Once the walls around him make sense, Carrigan growls out an apology. You smile, thinking nothing of it. With gratitude and grace, he leaves your bed, folding the blanket and returning it to its proper place. Then Carrigan gestures to the sheets, bidding you to take your rest. As you close your eyes, surrounded by his scent, you hear Carrigan leave [[an offering. -> altarend]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

Behind her veil, the Reliquary observes you, and the world around you is plunged into light. Scattered light, splintered by a thousand colors of stained glass, bright spears that pierce the saint through. She walks of her own accord in the vision, blood dripping from a slash to her ribs, a gouge in her thigh. Falling to her knees, the Reliquary prays before an altar made of marble. When she had a name, she was renowned for her charity. When the temple burned around her, the Reliquary was ready to give her life as one last gift. Yet she awakened in the ashes, thanks to the last vestige of the goddess' power. You suck in a breath, and the world is dark again. Her veiled eyes have not left you. [[I offer the Reliquary a place of refuge. -> reliquaryacceptance]] [[No, I will not offer myself to her this night. -> reliquaryrefusal]] [[My decision is not yet made. -> reliquarydelay]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

[[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Unv39eb.png">->First]]

The vapor in your lungs quickens, turning upon itself until it spirals into claws. Held from within, the Reliquary's need is unmistakable. She has not drawn breath in so long. Such a simple symbol of existence, the perpetual rhythm of life denied. So she asks for yours intead. No harm shall come from this sacrifice, for the divine thread that ties her to eternity will bind you [[as well. -> reliquarydesire1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

Her faith is a forgotten relic. She alone holds the key to what remains, prayers calling to a paradise long empty. It would be easy to become an embittered paradox, heart discordant as untuned strings, but the Reliquary has endured. If you offer worship with an open heart and an open mind, the illusion will free her, if only for [[a moment. -> reliquarydesire1]] <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

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<img src="https://i.imgur.com/cjCXZ9O.png" width="600" height="776"> <center>THE GASPING RELIQUARY</center> <center>[[Behold Her. | reliquarychoice1]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89592f8c800015ffc1b/1565243550213/gothichorror.mp3" autoplay loop>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/wKyOKEK.png" width="600" height="750"> <center>LABYRINTH'S SHADOW</center> <center>[[Behold Them. | shadowchoice1]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb895782d4800011ddde7/1565243550003/lostsouls.mp3" autoplay loop>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/dZELmNe.png" width="600" height="776"> <center>CARRIGAN, HOUND OF BROKEN TEETH</center> <center>[[Behold Him. | carriganchoice1]]</center> <audio src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5ad3b9b32714e5f95b837cc9/5d4bb888b714760001a2c542/5d4bb89ea1446b00010d63e4/1565243561736/paranoia.mp3" autoplay loop>

The heat of your body, chained to flesh. The Shadow speaks, yes, and thinks of their own accord, but there is no longer a mortal vessel for them to claim. You can be that vessel, offering yourself to be held, to be filled. Such a grasp will consume you, but not forever. When you emerge, it shall be as a new shape, remolded like clay under meticulous hands. You are the fire they yearn for, a kind heat that does not remind the Shadow of [[the sun. -> shadowdesire]]

Connection to a mortal life, a human life still prone to the vagaries of time and change. The Shadow wishes to learn your story, inside and out. What binds you to this village, what drives you to emerge under the moon in earnest supplication. Every tie that holds you to this earth, both strong and weak. Offer it aloud, let them inhabit this truth. For a moment, the Shadow will endure [[standing still. -> shadowdesire]]

By some measure, an embrace is a simple offering. Yet what it presents is far more complex. To touch someone is to risk pain, to risk rejection, be it your own or that of another. How will your fingertips react to rough fur and the rope of scars? What will your touch provoke when Carrigan has been denied it for so long? It is a bridge you walk together, swaying above an abyss of fear. To hold each other's hands is to have balance. Yet it also means having their weight with you, should there be [[a sudden fall. -> carrigandesire]]

A simple word, despite the myriad truths it encompasses. What comforts you may leave another weeping; the relaxation of a stranger could madden you to the breaking point. So comfort must be a negotiation. You express this to Carrigan, who agrees with a sweep of his claws through the air. Then he gestures to the fire of your hearth, the nest of sheets and furs upon your bed. When Carrigan sniffs the air, his nose catches the herbs and oil left behind from your last meal. Ah. He wishes for the comforts of [[home. -> carrigandesire]]