Celestine

Nov. 2nd, 2023 03:29 pm
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[personal profile] psalmofseasons
Autumn | Sky | Cognition
Celestine is the goddess of mind and emotion, of artisans and readers, of hearth and home. She has domain over the sky, and with it, the weather, the heavens, and celestial bodies. Legends say she keeps clouds in jars on her shelves. She is known for her intellect, introspection, and compassion. She is also the keeper of homes and is said to be a phenomenal cook and lover of food, which is no surprise given that the bounty of Autumn is fully at her disposal. She is often dressed all in gold or silver, and she has a very dark complexion with deep brown hair that coils like a cloud. Her hair and skin are often tinged with silver moonlight or golden sunlight, depending upon the time of day, and it is said that those who look into her large, dark eyes will see silvery stars glimmering in her irises.

The preferred offerings of Celestine consist chiefly of autumnal delights and foraged items such as vegetables, pumpkins, reddened leaves, walnuts, acorns, mushrooms, and pinecones. She also has a special love for books and stories, and is fond of incense and tea. Her symbols include fall foraged items (such as the aforementioned), the written word, jars, fire (particularly in the form of candles, fireplaces, stoves, and lanterns), birds, wolves, bears, weathervanes, clouds, and rain. She also is often represented by tools, particularly those used in kitchens, forges, meteorology, and astronomy. The sun, moon, stars, and planets also fall under her domain, though she shares the sun with Kora during the summer's heat. She is most often represented by the colors gold and orange, though silver, yellow, red, and even rainbows have been used in her imagery.

Celestine is especially fond of those with autumn birthdays, but she is also the patron goddess of homemakers, chefs, craftspeople, scientists, doctors, students, and avid readers and researchers. She has been known to have a soft spot for homebodies and introverts. Those who seek knowledge, pursue crafts, and prefer the indoors are likely to be beloved by her. Out of all mortals, however, none are so beloved as those who spend their nights looking to the stars.

RETURN

Date: 2024-02-02 09:46 pm (UTC)
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From: [personal profile] needmetodoanyattacking
It's thinking of his sister that brings Ianto to visit the temple once or twice--at least when he's not visiting the communal soup pot to fetch something for Dahlia.

So he does a bit of reading, asks a few questions--and while he's not one to pray or worship much of anything, one night out in the gardens of the Leeds estate, while Dahlia's asleep, Ianto has slipped out of bed with a few things in a satchel. He finds a bench, sits down, and sets up...

...well, there's no two ways about it: it's the world's smallest shrine.

Lighting a candle, he drips some wax into a mason jar and uses that to stick the candle inside--after blowing it out of course. He then relights it, the flicker of the flame the only light nearby. It's...a bit cozy.

"My sister's named for a goddess back home." he explains, feeling only a little silly as he pulls a notebook out of the satchel. Flicking through two or three pages, he carefully tears them out and shuffles through them. "Rhiannon--a Welsh goddess of poetry, s' what made me think of you. That, and..."

He trails off, remembering the dream--memories of a life never lived, now so vague but impressions there of growing disdain every time he visited the temple, watching the Leeds family fade away one name at a time, hurting Dahlia every time...

He gestures with the pages in his hand, focusing himself with a breath.

"I've written some of her story down 'year--part of the Mabinogion. Heard you like stories...and fire...and the planets. That's why I'm talkin' to you and not one of the others. I don't think they'll listen, cause thing is? Back home, I spent a lot of time dealing with other planets, keeping my head not in the clouds but out among the stars. Gave my bloody life for it, and here I am helpin' your people. And I'm not ungrateful, but there's trouble. See...I've fallen in love with one of them."

Carefully, he folds each page of his story and slips it into the jar to burn, so he can scatter the ashes later. Let the wind take them, send them skyward--gift his story to the heavens, as it were.

"More than that...I think I've seen what's been done to her. Life by life, piece by piece--worn away by grief."

He takes out the final item in his satchel--a gleaming piece of jasper, not so different from the one he'd nicked for her in his dream. This one, too, he'd stolen--if he's going to buy into this religious nonsense, might as well go all the way and keep to the spirit of that gift. Call it psychic energy, at least that's a measurable thing...at least in his world.

"I could try to speak to the other goddesses--but there's something about bein' dead that makes a man dangerous. I'd go off, say something horrible, maybe even do something horrible if I don't get what I want, but you? A lady who likes a good story, a good cuppa...who loves the stars. I think you'll help me. So I'm makin' you an offering."

He drops the piece of jasper into the jar after only a moment's hesitation.

"Me. In exchange for her health, for her life. Keep Mortanne the hell away from Dahlia Leeds, and you can have me. Whatever that means. Help me, and I'll give you everything, anything I have--body and soul. And if you love the stars, Celestine, I promise you that you want me. The stories I could tell you, the things I've seen!...it's all yours."

He stays silent, watches his pages burn, the jasper singe as the candle slowly burns down. He stays, and when he's not watching the little makeshift lantern burn, he's looking to the heavens.

Thinking of Dahlia. Of Jack--of Toshiko and Gwen and even bloody Owen. He wonders if, in this world, there's a version of Jack's Doctor, racing about being daft.

He waits until the light of the candle has been snuffed out before he speaks again.

"...and if something happens to her, we'll find out if gods can die. Because I will come for all of you."

Ianto caps the jar, heads back inside, returns to bed, and in the morning scatters the ashes outside, letting them be carried off into the wind--and the scorched jasper, he drops into the ashes of one of the kitchen fires for good measure.

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