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Sep. 16th, 2011 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aumentouMore changeling story.
"Das Kapital" has a good claim to being the book that's caused the most death in the world. Certainly it's in the lead for non-religious texts. "On the origin of species" has also caused a lot of trouble. I got them both out of the library for the ritual.
There's a space down by the river that I used for it. There used to be steelworks down there, and the building was something ancillary - polishing, storage, I don't know. Then it was demolished. There were going to be flats, but that didn't happen. Now there's space. Not ideal, but it's almost secluded, and where else are you going to go?
Borrow a face. Borrow a style. Borrow a completely different haircut. Wear them all together so you don't look like anyone specific. Take those two books. Take some candles. Take some petrol. Take some newspapers. Take a trowel. Take a sheet of paper with ten different runes and signs meaning "fire" on it.
Go on a day with good sunshine. Don't wear sunblock. Don't turn on the cloak of fire you already have. Feel the heat.
Build a bonfire, and prime with petrol and newspaper. Carve the ten runes and signs into the ground with a trowel. Build shrines to the intellectual fire of those books using the candles. Light the bonfire. Feed the fire, building it. Time it as well as you can, so the peak happens as close to midday as you can manage. Light the candles, with a magnifying glass and the sunshine.
Fire is motion. Be motion. Dance. Call the name of fire as you dance around the fire. The steps aren't important. There isn't a pattern. You are fire. Burning, changing, moving.
Dance.
As the sun rises, dance harder. As midday comes the great fire reaches its peak. Your small fire should reach it's peak too, and you should reach yours. No steps, no plans, no clocks. Feel the heat. Feel the meta-pattern of the flames.
Dance. Move. Sweat. Burn. Feel the fire. Touch the fire. Leap into the fire. Be the fire.
---
Midday had gone, the sun started to sink, and I let the fire die as slowly as it chose. The wind took the candles, gust by gust. When the last were out I packed the books, still dancing as I lifted them.
I nearly forgot to pull the flames away from my hands before doing so. That would have been bad, the library charge a lot for replacing burnt items.
"Das Kapital" has a good claim to being the book that's caused the most death in the world. Certainly it's in the lead for non-religious texts. "On the origin of species" has also caused a lot of trouble. I got them both out of the library for the ritual.
There's a space down by the river that I used for it. There used to be steelworks down there, and the building was something ancillary - polishing, storage, I don't know. Then it was demolished. There were going to be flats, but that didn't happen. Now there's space. Not ideal, but it's almost secluded, and where else are you going to go?
Borrow a face. Borrow a style. Borrow a completely different haircut. Wear them all together so you don't look like anyone specific. Take those two books. Take some candles. Take some petrol. Take some newspapers. Take a trowel. Take a sheet of paper with ten different runes and signs meaning "fire" on it.
Go on a day with good sunshine. Don't wear sunblock. Don't turn on the cloak of fire you already have. Feel the heat.
Build a bonfire, and prime with petrol and newspaper. Carve the ten runes and signs into the ground with a trowel. Build shrines to the intellectual fire of those books using the candles. Light the bonfire. Feed the fire, building it. Time it as well as you can, so the peak happens as close to midday as you can manage. Light the candles, with a magnifying glass and the sunshine.
Fire is motion. Be motion. Dance. Call the name of fire as you dance around the fire. The steps aren't important. There isn't a pattern. You are fire. Burning, changing, moving.
Dance.
As the sun rises, dance harder. As midday comes the great fire reaches its peak. Your small fire should reach it's peak too, and you should reach yours. No steps, no plans, no clocks. Feel the heat. Feel the meta-pattern of the flames.
Dance. Move. Sweat. Burn. Feel the fire. Touch the fire. Leap into the fire. Be the fire.
---
Midday had gone, the sun started to sink, and I let the fire die as slowly as it chose. The wind took the candles, gust by gust. When the last were out I packed the books, still dancing as I lifted them.
I nearly forgot to pull the flames away from my hands before doing so. That would have been bad, the library charge a lot for replacing burnt items.
