Daginy: Process
In reference to THIS RP @taimatrolls
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“You need me,” you snarl, struggling against the twine binding you hands and ankles and nailed to the floor. Braided spiritgum root, probably, to keep you from doing any magic. A chalk circle surrounds you, sigils for protection, preservation.
A grinning face leers down at you, a familiar face. You snarl at her, the anger of betrayal biting and sharp.
"Of course we do,“ she says, surrounded by your clam and holding up a familiar necklace. "But you’re too dangerous, Ashevi. You can live but we’ll have to compromise."
You wake with a start, in a corner of Hester’s hive in a cold sweat.
"Daginy, Daginy, Daginy,” you chant under your breath as you test your hands. They’re still under your control, but a paranoid thought still occurs to you– she might still be in there, waiting for a good moment to take back over.
You didn’t realize, at first, that you had been possessed. There had been a million other things on your mind and an extra one slipped in unnoticed. She hadn’t taken away your perception of your body, just most of your control, and she had so seamlessly integrated herself, you had trouble telling what was you and what was something else.
Closing your eyes, you go looking for her again. There’s not a whisper of her any more but she obviously left something behind. You’d be willing to bet you’ll dream more of her life in the coming days. You’re not quite ready to go back to sleep just yet. Instead, you take out one of your little notebooks, and start writing.
Daginy Chamae, Eight sweeps, Hemoanon. Hemorebel. Spy. Writer.
Cares so much it hurts. Pacifist. Murderer.
Quiet, bold, stubborn, careful, reckless idiot.
You don’t know how you feel about your list having this many contradictions, but at least it’s yours, all these things you know about you.
You close your eyes again. You always figured ghosts existed, even if you’ve never seen the proof. You’ve met a lot of lowbloods who’ve all claimed they can see or hear them, some of them knowing things only the dead know.
Magic? Possession? That was something else. A group of cultists that had someway to force people out of their bodies, spin otherworldly things into existence. Even Hester, with the knowledge to stop you from getting possessed.
You’re kind of surprised you haven’t stumbled across this sort of thing earlier, but at least that means it’s rare. You want to be prepared for the next time something like this happens.
You hesitate a moment and then take your pen to your hand. You draw one circle, and then another inside. You draw sigils for protection, life, mortality, identity. An anti-possession rune.
There’s a faint swish in your ears as you feel the last bits of Ashevi leave you.
Not you. You draw another circle inside the rune and in it, you write a sigil for knowledge. Ashevi might have taken your body but her mind will help you keep it in the future.
You get started. You grab one of the notebooks you’ve stockpiled and write down everything Ashevi knew, jotting down sigils, recipes for rituals, magical theory, supernatural dangers and ingredients. It comes to you in bits and pieces and you have to split things up between notebooks, numbering the pages and referencing things as they come to you, like you’re remembering something on your own rather than plumbing another memory.
The sun sets and you’re still not done but you need rest. You look back at the work you’ve already done, words you commit to your own memory, not your borrowed one.
Hester will probably let you stay awhile, especially if you share some of this stuff with them, you can afford to take a break. You slap a bandage on top of the rune on your hand to protect the ink and sink back into the pile. You’re going to master this before the week is out.