The Moon Howls || Selina & Fenrir
Selina had no religion, but should she choose to align herself with one, the pagans seemed to be well-suited for how she spent her time. She had been more intrigued by Christianity as of late, with their stories of their Savior Christ that sounded so like the prophecies she analyzed near-daily now. The concept of gods--one or many--was foreign to her, as her upbringing involved no supreme being that was infallible.
The only infallible things in her life were forces of nature, the sun and moon traipsing across the sky, ashes sparkling with the remains of a fire, the wind picking up leaves as it brushed the ground. When the moon came out every night, she sketched its shape in a notebook made of bamboo flesh, recording the cycles to keep for her brewing notes.
Her cauldron had been basking in the moon’s glow for two hours, enough time for her to add the lacewing flies. It was not as dark as night could be, not with the moon bright like this, and when her stirring was finished Selina turned toward the moon and tossed her hood back from her head, unafraid of whatever ghuls lurked in the darkness--she was yards away from her own yard, in a clearing overgrown with weeds (not curated by herself, clearly), but her wand was easily reachable and the full cauldron behind her could be used as a weapon, were she so inclined.
She breathed the moon’s light and traced patterns in the dappled stains it left on her skin. If she were to worship, the moon would have been her choice of goddess.