eden fisher

@edenfishers

Daughter.

45 posts

It was sacrilege, Delilah knew. Eden had abandoned her people, her tribe. And if she so chose to deny the Cailleach, then she deserved to wrath to be brought upon her. Those who turn their back on Her shall find Her back turned to them. Something her grandfather had taught her, after he originally awoke her from her slumber.

But yet, there must be something else. There was too much - She had come to both of them, in the same dream and given them sister visions. Delilah's head shook long before she had the impulse to speak. When she did, it was as if her voice wasn't her own, though she felt every word in her heart. "No, Eden. The Veiled One will lift your curse. She brought you here to be forgiven. To be redeemed. You, of all people, must be here."

Eden took a breath, looking at Deliah with big brown eyes. you belong. We want you. That was the only thing she'd never felt as a child. She'd felt it with her mama and mom, who she loved dearly. But never by any followers of the Cailleach. And now, here she was, being welcomed in despite everything by the scariest woman on the council of twelve.

If delilah thought she could be redeemed...

"The entity redeemeth." She said, slowly. "Why couldn't she fix me before?"

Delilah's eyes had not strayed from the church walls. With a ritualistic pace, she stepped forward and picked up the paintbrush previously abandoned by some other resident. Spiral. It was all connected. It had to be. Her arm pulled across the surface of the wood.

Delilah's eyes flashed down. Certainly it couldn't be -- the figure in the sand matched too well. She transferred it across:

An almost perfect inverse of her own. A near perfect compliment - a near perfect shadow. There was a depth of meaning she could not deny. She gently replaced the paintbrush in the bucket and for the first time raised her eyes to see the woman she was speaking to.

Her mouth fell open and a soft gasp escaped her lips. "Eden?" A wave of shock washed over her. Could this be the same girl she had spoken to so many times? The one who answered as many questions as she asked? Had the Veiled One brought Eden back to her?

"Eden," she repeated, her voice soft and reverent. Her eyes shone with a divine love. "It's..." she paused, momentarily unable to form words. She shouldn't speak to this girl, this traitor. And yet it was undeniable: the Cailleach wanted her here, now, with Delilah and no one else. What other interpretation could there be when their symbols were so entwined? "It's good to see you. I'm glad you are here." It felt hollow and empty, but there was little more to be said. "I'm glad She brought you here. Would you... would you like to come inside? We keep a fire burning and can get you out of the cold."

Eden gasped, watched delilah match up their memories. "You had the dream too?" It was strange. so strange. Eden didn't know what to make of it, heads or tails, top or bottom. She nodded, from her spot on the ground. Yes, she was eden. but instead of being shunned or chased away, Delilah offered to bring her inside. out from the cold she'd run into so long ago. And Eden, despite all of it, yearned to come inside, to follow her. But she knew. She knew it was a bad idea.

"I'm a curse." She said, slowly. "You... you don't want me in there. I can't do anything right, I never could. She doesn't want me. The only people who do are my moms. I would sully the space."

Delilah had woken up with one goal: get to the church as fast as possible. The Cailleach had spoken to her directly, and she needed to be in the church immediately. She sprinted from her home, wrapped only in a house robe and slippers, to find her way to the sacred place.

Only, she wasn't the first one there. A hunched figure was scrawling in the ground, and there was blood and paint smeared on the side of the building. Delilah softened her steps. "No," she said, with more force than she meant. "You're - it's okay. Did you -- did you do this?" She pointed to the wall, where the pieces of some strange sigil were starting to take shape.

"Some of it." She admitted, although she couldn't take credit for most of it. She was scared. Scared of what had come over her, of whatever was happening. And she was scared of delilah! The woman had terrible intensity, had always been intimidating when she was small, and now was telling her not to leave. Did she recognize eden? She couldn't tell.

"I-I... I knew how it fit together. mostly. I recognized it. The spiral. And I... drew it. here. but that, up there, it seems to connect somehow." She wasn't sure.

@delilah-hart

The dream was strange. Maybe Eden would've talked about it to her mama, but her mama was dead. She didn't want to worry ruth, so instead, she just tried to get through her morning chores. She fed the chickens, took out the washing, but instead of turning to the river, she found herself drawn in a different direction. A familiar one, one she really shouldn't be taking. Her washng and herself were right outside the church before she could stop herself, and she knelt, drawing in the dirt.

Only, when she looked up, she wasn't alone. She hadn't spoken to delilah in years, but she knew she wasn't supposed to be here. She ducked her head, nervous. "I'm sorry, my lady. I'll... I'll be going."

"You know my parents always used to tell me that when things seemed bad, to just remember, we're all only one rainstorm away from rainbows." It had seemed silly to him. asa kid, but Thomas was pretty sure he got what they had meant by it now. He put one last glass back into its place on the shelf before giving Eden his full attention, smiling at the mention of chicks. "Well, I hope she thinks you need some then. Chicks would brighten just about everyone's day up." Maybe it was silly of him, but Thomas loved baby animals. And he knew that Leo just loved animals. Any shape or size. "I think the more animals we have wandering town, the better people's moods would be."

Eden smiled at that. It reminded her of something her Mama would've said. The woman had a sort of gentle positivity that permiated her demeanor. She was always kind, always optimistic. "What were your parents like?" She asked, honing in on that. "They sound nice."

"Your...mother," Cressida clarified, though it was difficult to be sure. The spirits were so intertwined. All energy returned to the goddess and the earth. "It's reassurance." She reached forward, grateful to slip from Eden's touch. She lifted the oak stick, "be strong." Be resilient as the mighty oak, and trust in your power. "Maternal love remains constant."

"Is she here?" Eden asked, sitting up and supporting herself for a moment. "Mama?" she called up, looking around for her. A message had to come from a sender. her mama had to be watching. "I'm trying my best." She promised. Even though she'd always been a fuck up- too impulsive, too inquisitive, her mothers had always believed in her. and now she was running the coop and the market alone. She was trying her best. She always would. "I love you too." Because if there was any chance her mama could hear, Eden wanted to say it.

"Thank you." She said, turning to cress. "I... I needed to know." She reached behind her and pulled out her carton of eggs. It didn't feel like enough, but it was what she'd brought.

The breath left Cressida's body when Eden touched her.

She stilled, body going rigid at the unfamiliarity -- and something like anticipation. No one touched Cressida. Only the High Priestess. Only the Veiled One. And even then--

But Eden was weeping, her body wracked with heavy sobs, and though Cressida's mother was still alive, there had been an untimely severing of their bond. She understood the sensation of loss. Of being raised by someone wonderful and having them torn from small, childish clutches.

"I'm--" What? Sorry for your loss? Cress' hand lifted, hovering uncertainly over Eden's arm. Touch, she knew, was meant to be a comfort, but hadn't she already given Eden enough? Her heart sped, pulse tripping as it quickened, and she thought about gathering her sticks, demanding her payment, and running off.

But she sat frozen, eyes still downcast on the sticks until her mouth no longer felt numb: "She has a message."

Eden didn't notice the lack of embrace- she just needed to hold something, to feel the breath. Cressida didn't hold her back, but she also wasn't pulling away. Neither did eden. Not even when she spoke again, although it got her attention.

"Who does?" she asked, shifting her head to look down at the sticks again. mama? or the goddess? one of those was significantly more welcome than the other, but Eden had always been curious by nature. She needed more.

When Cressida opened her eyes, the sticks peered up from their fateful fall, and she spent a silent moment observing each one in its place. The sticks had meanings, as did their order, but there was an element of divining that was needed to make the reading whole. It required attunement -- focus, connection, more a portal than a living soul. The ancestral spirits informed the wood, and Cressida closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their presence, her head lolling forward.

"Beith," she murmured, reaching to touch the first stick: birch wood. Slowly, blearily, her eyes opened. "It speaks of new beginnings and a strong, vibrant life force. This symbol suggests that your..." The skin between her brows creased in uncertainty, "...mother was born into a life imbued with promise, her spirit kindled by the natural world. Beith encourages resilience -- a reminder that every ending is also a start."

Cressida touched the second stick: "Luis. The Rowan tree is a protector, a guardian against unseen dangers. Though she faced hardships -- perhaps even threats, unseen forces worked in her favor. Luis whispers of a protective energy that surrounded her, cushioning her as she navigated tumultuous times."

She frowned: "Fearn is next. Alder wood. She reached a turning point, a moment when the veil between this world and the spirit realm grew thin. It led her away from the physical world into a deeper plane of existence. Saille, the Willow tree, tells us that loss in inevitable. That grief is part of the cycle. There is pain in every transformation, and so each beginning is born from an end. You've been mourning. Suffering. These are not eternal wounds."

Cressida offered up the final stick: Dair -- Oak wood. "She--" Her throat felt swollen, tongue too thick. This was ill-advised. She should take her payment and go. But Cressida could not leave the reading incomplete. The Veiled One forbade her from cutting it short. "Her mortal form has faded, but her spirit lives on. She is one with the goddess in sacred partnership."

It was her mama.

all of it was. This was Cressida doing the reading, speaking directly to the goddess. Eden sat and watched her mother's lifetime flash before them both, stick by stick, beat by beat. It was her mama. her brave, remarkable, one-of-a-kind mama.

And the last stick.

she's okay. Eden hoped, wished into the gap. she went on a long journey. The goddess will bring her back soon. but that wasn't what she heard. Really, in her heart of hearts, it hadn't been what she'd been expecting either. Carly Fisher was not the type to abandon her wife and daughter without warning. She was dead. She always had been.

But still. the realization cracked something in Eden. That last bit of hopeful denial. Cressida was right, her mama was dead. There was a beat, two, and suddenly she couldn't see straight anymore. The tears had filled up her eye sockets, until they were dripping down her face. She sniffed, and wound up burying her face in cress's shoulder. It wasn't her mama, but it was warm, and it was here.

"I miss her." Eden whined, because she couldn't cry like this to Ruth, who missed her harder. Because she wouldn't let herself mourn if there was a chance her mama was alive, and up until this moment, there had been. "She was the best."

Cressida's breath hitched, the sound imperceptible against the rush of water to shore. "It doesn't work like that," she warned, though Cressida knelt to the ground anyway, unfurling a worn cloth over the place where the mark had been. Thick, carved staves settled in the center. "If you want something concrete, perhaps you should consult the authorities--"

But they both knew that would be fruitless. Eden's expression told Cressida this was a last-ditch effort. And despite it all, Eden still believed the Veiled One could guide her. She still believed. Cressida gathered the sticks in her hands, the lot held up precariously. "Sit."

Cressida's eyes fluttered shut, though her face turned upward, the soft glow of moonlight radiating, transforming her into a ghostly being as she drew in a slow, quieting breath and began her gentle incantation:

"Ancient spirits of the living wood, Whisper your wisdom, deep and good. With roots below and branches high, Guide my heart and clear my eye. I welcome your counsel; I open my soul, In your sacred presence, I am whole."

And then she cast the sticks out over the fabric, which hid the sigil beneath.

Eden sat on her knees, although she looked nothing short of extremely awkward about it. She put her hands under her behind, rocking back and forth with the words. They were familiar and foreign. It reminded her of years spent in a mother’s lap who wouldn’t speak to her now. Encouraged to cry, because the banshee would hear. And told, as she got older, not to touch anything. She didn’t hold enough favor to get that honor.

maybe she should go. Maybe it would work better.

but when she opened her mouth to suggest as much, she caught cress’s steady face in the moonlight. She looked transcendent. “Please.” She muttered instead, closing her eyes. “Hear us, see us, tell us.” She breathed it more than said it, the plea bringing emotion to her face until it was all screwed up.

She dug her toes into the sand, though it was cold and damp, caking and cracking where she wished it would crumble. Cressida stared down at the grey, lips pressed together tightly. The man had been found here, with that terrible symbol carved into his back. She crouched down, hand lingering over the sand, as though afraid to touch. What if it stirred something? Something ancient and hungry? Something that was not her goddess and not her friend?

But Cressida took her pointer finger and drew the shape, carving slowly through the sand. When she finished, she paused, holding her breath. A moment passed. Then another. Nothing. Cressida exhaled, shoulders sinking in relief as she stood. "Ridiculous," she murmured, peering down at it -- that horrid, cursed sigil in the sand.

The north shore. Moon rise. Just as Cressida had asked.

“hello,” she called out, before she made her way to the form on the beach. Eden made veiled people jumpy. She knew that, and she could at least try not to spook the woman who was doing her such a favor tonight. “I brought the eggs.” She started, eyes cast to the ground. It felt odd, to look one of cress’s status in the eye. Even if technically she held no power over Eden, it was hard to remember it in Eden’s bones.

she saw the symbol, but tabled it mentally. She needed to ask her question quickly, before Cressida decided this was a bad idea. And cress would, if Eden asked too many questions about the mark in the sand. “I want to know what happened to my mama.” She asked. “Carly. Ruth’s wife. She’s been gone for months.”

Cressida considered the request, the hesitation evident. Divining with a tool required less energy, but it still took from her. And to ask a question of the Veiled One? For one who had strayed? "Yes," Cressida replied, cautious hand splaying over her satchel, where the sticks were wrapped in a strip of thin leather. "But not here." Which was to say not now. There was no hiding from the goddess, but her instruments were mortal. Theirs eyes and ears could only reach so far. "It's a full moon tonight. I'll admire its rise on the north shore."

Now THAT was a yes. And a reading from one of the twelve… Eden had never had that honor in her life before. She considered herself lucky now, and knew not to push it. Even if her mom would worry after her going out alone at night. Even if her mom would hate her watching the moon rise with one of the twelve.

alone, no less.

“maybe you’ll see some eggs up there, then.” She answered, gently making the dozen that cress had asked for, cartoning them, and placing them under the table. For tonight.

A small chuckle hitched in Leo's throat. It was a good point - when had Ruth ever been anything other than lovely? Perhaps there were times, but none that she shared regularly. It was hard to imagine the kind woman in any sort of trouble - at least any sort that she couldn't handle perfectly well on her own.

His chuckle slowly morphed into a light-hearted moan. "You want to know the worst part of that?" he replied, gently shaking his head. "I'm gonna tell him that you said that, and he's gonna love it." Leo shifted the eggs on the table, starting to gently scoop them into his hands. "But yes, eggcellent. Had a bit of a cold as the seasons were changing, but that's nothing new. Only 'cuz he stays cooped up too much. Those of us who get out into the sun don't catch those kinds of things."

"He'll turn into a ghost if you keep him indoors." Eden joked, nodding along. "I don't understand that, but I definitely see it. Maybe we'll catch something later, but probably not." She wasn't the type, really, to get sick. Or at least not the type to complain about it. But she supposed it would likely happen, and she’d continue her work outside about it.

“I’m glad he’s well, though.” Eden clarified. Or. Well enough.

Thomas nodded his head. "Of course, wouldn't wanna keep you too long and end up getting you in trouble." Thomas leaned on the bar. he was cleaning glasses, getting ready to start closing things down for the night. It was his ritual, and he'd gotten fairly good at it. Eden was here about once a week, he always took note of his regulars, and though he had people that came in more then her, to him she still fell into that category.

"For the inn or me? Because truthfully," Tapping his knuckles against the wood of the counter, "I can't complain about anything. Things have been good. I just hope with the things going on......that they don't get worse. How about you? How're you?"

"I can agree with that. Worse would be bad." Generally, it would be. It was kind of lame, but it was all eden could offer. "I'm... well enough." It had been hard ever since mama had gone, it would never get easier, but that didn't mean the whole town wanted to hear about it every five minutes. Eden tried to find something else to mention, and with some real effort, found something. "I'm excited for spring. We should get a lot more eggs. maybe even some chicks, if Mom thinks we need some." Eden loved chicks.

A small smile spread across Leo's face. "Don't tell the others she's my favorite. I have enough issue with Henrietta." She was a mean old hen, long retired, who fancied herself protector of the flock - and who had a personal vendetta against Leo. It was one sided, of course.

He nodded in slight relief. "Glad to hear it. I can relate to slowing down in the winter. Happens when you get old." He winked. "And Ruth's still good? Staying out of trouble?"

"That makes it sound like she's ever gotten into trouble in her life." Eden scoffed, finding that hard to believe. Her mom was many things. trouble was not one of them. "Mom's good. She says there's less cold coming in through the windows. I don't feel it, but I never feel window-cold." Granted, her room was on the first floor, far closer to the fire and stove. "How's Thomas? Wait, don't tell me. He's eggcelent." she grinned, clearly self satisfied with the pun. She'd picked the pun game up from her mothers, but she loved it.

Leo nodded. "Done and done. We'll be glad to have them." Her next comment brought a chuckle and a sigh of resignation. "I suppose you're right. Could be worse. But the hens are all healthy? How's my favorite?"

"You've got a favorite hen?" Eden asked, but she couldn't stop her smile growing. She was teasing. "Turclucken's fine. Do you remember how she was slowing down? I think that might've actually just been for winter. she's been a daily layer every day for the past week. She knew you were getting worried, I think." Of course, the fishers didn't get rid of hens the second they stopped laying, but they were always looked at with a bit of a side-eye. "Ruling the roost, she is."

"Quite the steal," she appraised, without any sincerity. Brigid's expression was hollow, eyes empty, vision elsewhere and here. It was like this -- and had been for as long as she could remember. The odd sensations, like a second sight, ghosting over this moment in strange ways and from beyond her (or something above, or behind...). "Coins. Tinctures," Brigid spoke, gesturing to the basket hiked up on her hip. She felt far away, not entirely within her body. "For maladies, for protection. Or...I did bring my Ogham sticks, if you wish..."

There was a pause then, as if Brigid were waiting for Eden to make her selection, or that she had perhaps forgotten that they'd been exchanging words at all. Brigid blinked, eyes focusing, narrowing in on the girl. "What would you have for payment?"

Ogham sticks, she hadn't used those since she was little. It had been awhile since she'd been allowed to touch them, even. her bad energy polluted religious things. She didn't want them, but it was an interesting offer. Didn't need tinctures either. In fact, it would've been smart to take coin. She opened her mouth to ask for it, but instead...

"Can you ask the goddess a question for me?" she asked. "with your sticks? She doesn't speak to me the way she speaks to you."

Leo smiled and gave her a small wink. "You always know best. Four dozen it is. Though I reckon I could get your whole haul back in one go with enough balance." He plucked a few bills from his pocket and pushed them across to her.

"And that would be just fine, if you're willing to make the trip," he said. "Thomas has been... experimenting with a few new omelet recipes. And while I'm certainly not complaining, there's only so many meals a day I can eat eggs. I keep telling him to just serve them to the customers, but he refuses to put anything on the menu that hasn't been extensively taste tested."

"I am. I'll give 'em to you in exchange for a free dinner." However many she had left over at the end would just rot anyway by next week. At least this way she was getting food out of it. "And one to take home to my mom."

Deal made, she made sure to box up four careful dozens, taking great care in selecting the eggs from her bunches. White, uniform, clean eggs. "Now you know what it's like at my home. Imagine, eggs are the thing you produce. You've always got eggs on hand. Eggs every day."

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