Celestine

[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 ✦

Comments

[lasthumanvoice]

Once the pizza oven is up and running, Cecil stops by the temple to leave a slice (topped with delicata squash and spinach) for Celestine.

"I know we're going into winter, but this is thanks for the harvest, for the gift of delicious wheat and wheat by-products with which we can feed ourselves. I, uh. Don't know much about goddesses, besides maybe Huntokar, but...I think this is okay, right? A thank you?"

[lasthumanvoice]

The famine brings Cecil back to Celestine's shrine. He still isn't sure how to do this, but he places a few foraged black walnuts on the altar.

"I...I don't mean to imply that the harvest has been insufficient. I really don't. But we're struggling a little bit here. I...we...if you can help us stretch our pot of stew in any way, we'd all be grateful. Or perhaps if you can talk to the stars and ask them to be a little less violent? Since the sky is your purview and a ll."

[psalmofseasons]

A bitter draft breathes through the temple like a sullen sigh. The sky outside grows a shade gloomier. It is as if the air itself is pained by his words. Celestine knows that her domain is beyond her control, and it agonizes her.

However, Cecil has been devoted in his offerings. And he is in a unique position to help.

He is bestowed with two boons--- one for himself, and one to be shared.

The first appears in a basket outside the temple door. It appears to be a single tuber--- however, when cut, the vegetable automatically replenishes itself and can do so infinitely. This is Celestine's Everlasting Sweet Potato.

The second is an expansion upon Cecil's existing abilities. He will find that when he announces the Weather, it will now actually impact the weather itself, inciting a random meteorological event. This may not always play out in his favor, but some weather events may be enough to disrupt the Aurora. Additionally, he may be able to hone this power with time.

[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.

February | Please Hold While I Direct Your Call

[somebodychildofanyone]

Thus far River's relationship with the Mothers hasn't been as active as her one with the Temple as a mortal institution. Some of that, as expressed to Angel, has been out of shyness, but River has also been pretty open about still practicing her faith from home. The gods of her world are family, after all, and even if their influence doesn't reach here River has taken comfort and guidance from them all her life. But it's time to talk about many things, that question of influence among them.

When she comes to pray and to spend the night at the temple, River brings offerings; the last of her canned crab, a charm forged by her own hands, and a lock of hair cut from her head. She's expecting to, potentially, talk to Mortanne.

About that...

Early March - On a Note of Triumph

[lasthumanvoice]

Cecil comes to the temple with a sweet potato muffin in hand, once he's sure the famine is over.

"Thank you, Celestine, for your help. I wanted to share a poem with you. Part of a poem. Part of a prayer, written by a man from my world. It's addressed to one of the gods of my world, but. I think you'll appreciate it all the same, given your nature as a harvest goddess."

He clears his throat and puts on his best radio voice, invoking the memory of the radio personality who originally penned this poem, this prayer, in the middle of the second World War.

"Lord God of fresh bread and tranquil mornings,
who walks in the circuit of heaven among the worthy,
deliver notice to the fallen
that tokens of orange juice and a whole egg
appear now before the hungry children;
that night again falls cooling on the earth
as quietly as when it leaves your hand;
that Freedom has withstood the tyrant like a Malta in a hostile sea,
and that the soul of humanity is surely a Sevastopol
which goes down hard and leaps from ruin quickly.

Lord God of the topcoat and the living wage
who has furred the fox against the time of winter
and stored provender of bees in summer’s brightest places,
do bring sweet influences to bear upon the assembly line:
accept the smoke of the milltown
among the accredited clouds of the sky:
fend from the wind with a house and hedge,
those whom you made in your image,
and permit them to pick of the tree and the flock
that they may eat today without fear of tomorrow
and clothe themselves with dignity in December."

The rest of the poem is less relevant, so he decides to save that. But...he remembers it, as he gives to Celestine. Something to consider. If worms and stars can live together, maybe the residents of this island, demon and human and otherwise, can as well.

[psalmofseasons]

As Cecil departs, he can almost feel the ghost of a kiss on his forehead. The sunset looks particularly golden today, and the breeze is warm.

Moved to May because Reasons

[psalmofseasons]

It's far from her time of year. But River's offerings, along with her alignment (whether she knows of it or not), make a conversation possible. And Mortanne is willing to lend her sister a portal into the world of the unconscious Beyond...

When River dreams, she dreams of autumn in nightfall. Gold pulled into flourishing patterns to form a charming gazebo, whose curls act as trellises for green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. A willow tree with strands of leaves the same fiery red as River's hair forms a curtain around the garden, and nearby there is a house. The house's open window smells of woodfire from a hearth and comfort food being cooked. Silver motes of light dangle in the air, complementing the moon and lighting the garden, in contrast to the warm golden glow beaming out of the windows of the cottage.

The door opens, and Celestine appears, holding two cups of tea on a tray.

Her long, tight curls are worn down and seem to drift away from her gently like clouds in the sky, turning white at the ends, and she is wearing a slender silver dress. Her eyes are a deep, dark black, in stark contrast to the pale blue they had been when she met with Jon and Jean. An observant sort might notice that the black of her eyes is the same as the night sky above.

"Good evening." Her voice is light and airy, almost as if the sound is fragile. "I made decaf. Not that it will matter here. You're already asleep."

[somebodychildofanyone]

River blinks several times and experiences the gear-clashing sensation of multiple social scripts colliding into each other like clown cars in a drunk driving accident. Before her mind can really catch up her body has gone for a polite bow, as a guest to a host, rather than a vassal to a lord.

"Your pictures don't do you justice, Lady Celestine," River murmurs, her ears twitching madly and pink at the tips. "Thank you for your hospitality, though...I'd been expecting another."

Still, she takes a cup of tea, and sips from it, as a guest should.

[psalmofseasons]

Celestine smiles lightly, taking a seat at the garden table under the gazebo. She gestures for River to do the same. "I'm aware. Mortanne passed you along to me, as your alignment is with me. Not that she dislikes you--- quite the contrary. But each mortal can only have the favor of one of us at a time."

[somebodychildofanyone]

"...That seems...lonesome," River murmurs. She hears it as it leaves her mouth, and she has to hide behind her tea to regain her composure. "I'd had...well. Questions, as a foreigner who's brought foreign gods with her."

It's left hanging in the air: is this a trespass? An imposition?

Mid-May

[astrogator]

This is not Arilanna Tayrey's first visit to the temple. The first time she had spoken with Degas. Today she makes sure she is alone. She carries with her a large roll of paper, tied with red ribbon, as well as the bright lantern that guides her way through late patrol shifts in town.

'Peace and prosperity,' she says quietly, feeling faintly foolish to be speaking to a shrine, but apparently that's how these things are done. 'This is Lieutenant Tayrey of the Tradelines, hoping to contact Citizen Celestine.' She uses the title of respect in her culture, the one used by default when you don't know if your listener carries another.

'I'm not the sort for worship. I deal in fair contracts. I hope you'll find that acceptable.' Her tone is respectful, yet professional. 'I was told that you love the stars. I made my home among them, on the Starship Prosperity. I'm pleased with the contract that liberated me from a terrible imprisonment and gave me the chance to find my way back to my home and my people. Grateful that your people considered a damaged Tradeliner worth recruiting. Rescuing. I don't expect it will be easy, but-'

A pause, as she considers how to phrase this. 'I will risk my life to do my duty here, but if it's within your power, protect me from being forced into fights that I cannot possibly win.' Monsters immune to bullets, creatures that could kill Tayrey without a second thought, magic that she can't possibly defend against. Situations where she could make no error and still have no hope. The fear that prevents her from ever feeling truly safe. All she needs is probability turned in her favor, so that she won't be made a target.

Then Tayrey unrolls her paper. It's a large and wonderfully detailed star chart, made with precision and care, the colors of stars and informational markings bright against the blackness of the background. A work of science, a work of art. 'If you can help, and you will, then this is for you. Fair contract?'

There's an expectant look on her face, but young Lieutenant Tayrey isn't sure she'll have any answer at all. At least there's nobody else around to hear her words.

[psalmofseasons]

"Colleagues," Celestine answers the unasked question. "Peers. Your gods have no influence here, but we are happy to pass along your prayers across interdimensional lines, and take care of you as if you are our own. We also do not ask you to worship us. Frankly, we have very little interest in worship, even from our own people, and prefer connection. But we appreciate anything done in our honor, and acts fitting our domain done with intent can empower us to assist you. Our primary aim is to aid you in your mission."

[psalmofseasons]

There is a loud klunk on the hardwood floor as something drops heavily from above. It lands behind Ari unceremoniously.

An astrolabe on a tasteful gold chain lies on the floor in the center of the room. A rolled piece of parchment is tied to it.

"I cannot put a price on the wonder you feel when you look to the stars, but hopefully this tool will suffice."

It's not clear exactly what this particular astrolabe does that is special, so Ari will have to test it, but it definitely feels powerful as it thrums with a deep, old magic as colossal as the cosmos.

[ Tayrey has been given a divine boon, the Starry Omen Astrolabe. When used near an enemy, Tayrey will be imbued with an omen--- or more specifically, a gut feeling about how dangerous the enemy is. Their danger level will be judged on a 5-point scale and a tidbit of information that may or may not be useful will be available to her. Fun fact: this can also be used on allies! ]

[somebodychildofanyone]

"I have so many questions, but..." A warm smile, small and shy, spreads across River's face, cozy and hidden as an Autumn hearth. "I think my sister might cross the worlds to tan my hide if I was so rude to not ask: what has you interested in my friendship?"

[psalmofseasons]

Celestine laughs brightly, like wind chimes. "I'm so surprised you didn't guess! We both have a strong association with fire, for one, and I prefer the company of artisans and craftspeople. Clever hands and clever minds," she explains. "When you speak, you fancy yourself defined primarily as a necromancer or a mercenary. But when you came to Pumpkin Hollow, you chose to create. You channel fire, a force of great destruction, into the art of creation. You are skilled at many things, River, but in your heart, you are a maker. And a very clever one at that."

At Last, We Introduce The Thing River Needs To Learn Here

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Well - I mean -" Celestine you've got a blusher, but you knew that already didn't you? River tries to hide behind her tea but that trick only really uses with big tavern tankards, so the bit where she's still learning how to take a compliment remains real fuckin' obvious. Her ears twitch and flick, and she has to tuck her long hair behind one when it falls loose.

"Necromancy is an act of creation too," she rallies, feeling her way through it. "I know the local version has...well, probably any version has a bad reputation, but honestly I'd be doing a lot less rotting living flesh and a lot more 'make useful minions and constructs' if I had usable death inside the barrier. The things I could do with like a whalebone corset if it weren't chunking me to look fashionable..."

[psalmofseasons]

"This is true," Celestine agrees readily, disinterested in judgement. "I just meant that your ties to death are not as strong as your ties to craftsmanship. Everyone is complex, and the domains of my kind and that of demons use such an imprecise system of definition. Using firm, single words to try and simplify abstract concepts, and then pushing us, and by extension the mortal beings we protect or destroy, into boxes that do not always appear to make sense."

"But if you boil us down to our bare essentials, I represent people of practical skill, those who use their minds and their bodies and their time to create useful things that better the lives of others. Mortanne, on the other hand, represents something much more metaphysical, those who are defined by a mind and spirit that is not grounded in a body, dreamers and spirit guides. And while you do have a meaningful connection with both, I think deep down you know that what makes you who you are, where you prefer to spend your energy, is more strongly defined by a passion for artisanry. For using your hands to bring things into the world that serve others in a way that makes their lives better."

It's funny, many of the texts of the Temple describe Celestine as shy and withdrawn, but here she is just yammering away. Her expression doesn't fluctuate much, and to untrained eyes probably appears quite stony, but her eyes are alight with passion and love. River is sitting close enough to her to see the stars in her blue-black eyes glimmer occasionally.

[astrogator]

Startled, she looks behind her. She picks up the astrolabe, unties the note, and reads it. Wonder is a part of what she feels when she looks to the stars. That and a nostalgia at odds with her years, a deep longing for home, a sense of hope. Smiling, she pockets the note, and examines the astrolabe in more detail. It's exquisitely made, and entirely functional - something the practical Tradeliner appreciates. She put in the effort to learn how to use astronomical tools that would be archaic in her sector.

There's more to it. Arilanna Tayrey has vanishingly little ability to sense magic; her universe lacks it, but the power of this runs so deep that even she can tell there's something unusual about it. She'd say that it feels charged, almost as if it were a store of great energy. Carefully, she slips the chain over her head and tucks the astrolabe under her blue jacket.

'Thank you. If you were here, I would shake your hand,' she says, her voice more confident now that she's certain she's being heard. Alright, she might not know exactly how the astrolabe will protect her, but she trusts that it will. Fair contract. She has no reason to doubt it.

Tayrey lays the star chart down on the shrine, moving some of the smaller objects present to its corners to keep it flat. Then she steps to the side and chooses a stick of incense to light. One that carries the heavy scent of spices that remind her of Cardalek Tower, her first home.

'I will take care of this, and put it to good purpose,' she says, that smile of hers still growing. 'Safe skies, Citizen Celestine.'

[somebodychildofanyone]

Celestine, my lass, Our Lady of Autism, River's got her chin in her hand and is listening to this with warmth in her eyes. She has been infodumped to before, and she's enjoying it immensely.

"You remind me so much of my sister," the elf murmurs. "...Well. She swears more," River corrects with a laugh. "Hazard of the occupation, really, but still. It's been nice, to work with my hands. Anyone who wants the respect of the demons back home, the Secondborn, they have to learn to smith, but my training was rushed and kinda monomaniacal and as much shit as I give having to make nails and pulleys over and over and over and over and fuckin' over again...it's been interesting. I just. Can't help but feel like I could be doing something more for the big obvious problem. That damn book..."

[psalmofseasons]

"That book is safest where it is now--- guarded, and away from the hands that might use it for harm. Those who brought it have no power over it in there," Celestine says firmly. "My tongue is stayed by powers united against me, shaky as their alliance might be, so I cannot tell you the nature of the book. But do not read from it, do not let it out of your sight, and make no further attempts to destroy it."

[somebodychildofanyone]

"...Good thing you said somethin', I was really uh. Gearing up for another shot at that." River's ears droop; she's embarrassed. "But...you get the broader point, right? Like yeah people need their pots mended and hospital beds made and...I know I'm doing good work. But people also need that stupid clown to stop crawling up their asses."

[psalmofseasons]

Celestine nearly coughs on her tea at the crude phrasing. "Who, Mendel?"

[somebodychildofanyone]

"And the other demons. And the monsters, and the curses, and..." River gestures lamely. "I never expected to be the strongest warrior on the island but sometimes it feels like I focus so much on my job because I'm scared to find out how...outclassed...I really am. Y'know?"

[psalmofseasons]

Celestine nods slowly. "I understand the feeling, but it's worth remembering that there are many different people here, from many walks of life, each with their own skill set. You are here for a reason. Besides, you've been limiting yourself pretty significantly, haven't you?"