Mercy pauses, then sheathes her dirk and takes the proffered knife with a nod. "Thanks." Instead of offering her hand, she instead pulls up one of her sleeves and presses the blade to her forearm.
"Spirits of Gloucester, those who once lived and died in this place, hear us. Hear our plea. We face a great evil in this land that you called home. Your descendants still walk these lands, and though we ain't of them, we wish to protect them as our own kin. We call on you."
She draws the knife across her arm and watches the blood well and fall into the center of the circle and sizzle in the earth with a strange, crackling static.
"Blood and bone cannot confine The souls we seek to now unbind. Let them free to dance and run. Let them speak with mortal tongue. Rise from death for seven nights. Seek the shadows 'tween the lights. Brace yourself for truths of grave, And know that dead cannot be saved."
There's a moment where the world around them seems to still, to quiet, and then the crackling of Mercy's blood on the ground starts once more, grows from a soft shurring to a cracking, screeching, howling sound that's accompanied by glitching in the air itself. Brave as she is, Mercy backs away, eyes wide and the knife clutched tight in her hand. She looks to the other women to make sure she's not somehow the only one seeing and hearing this.
cw: self-harm, ritualistic sacrifice, ghosts
"Spirits of Gloucester, those who once lived and died in this place, hear us. Hear our plea. We face a great evil in this land that you called home. Your descendants still walk these lands, and though we ain't of them, we wish to protect them as our own kin. We call on you."
She draws the knife across her arm and watches the blood well and fall into the center of the circle and sizzle in the earth with a strange, crackling static.
"Blood and bone cannot confine
The souls we seek to now unbind.
Let them free to dance and run.
Let them speak with mortal tongue.
Rise from death for seven nights.
Seek the shadows 'tween the lights.
Brace yourself for truths of grave,
And know that dead cannot be saved."
There's a moment where the world around them seems to still, to quiet, and then the crackling of Mercy's blood on the ground starts once more, grows from a soft shurring to a cracking, screeching, howling sound that's accompanied by glitching in the air itself. Brave as she is, Mercy backs away, eyes wide and the knife clutched tight in her hand. She looks to the other women to make sure she's not somehow the only one seeing and hearing this.