Wolfblood ━ TWILIGHT (being rewritten)

09

She dabbed at it with her sleeve, ignoring the heinous feeling of the cold, damp fabric on her arm. Throwing the plastic cup into the sink and walking through the home, past the back door and down the stairs into the basement.

The light was a singular bulb in the centre of the room, bright yellow, casting golden-orange light dimly across the room. There were dog beds scattered about, as well as old blankets. Against the wall, there was a dresser. Three candles were placed along the table, as well as sunstones and moonstones. The bundle of chamomile rested in the centre, in front of the tallest candle, delicately carved with motifs of Cerridwen, whilst a small set of pewter cups sat in front of a glass jar filled with water.

Her mother was on her knees before the alter, searching for something in a drawer, whilst Sean sat on the bottom step, eyes closed and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Fae nudged him with her calf, he turned his head and his lips quirked up at the edges into a little smile.

"Fae, love, c'mere. You've got to learn to do this."

"Mum, I know how."

"Still." Marie insisted. Beckoning her over with the sharp tilt of her head.

By the boiler, there was a basket full of dog toys. Fae snorted at the sight. What would their ancestors do if they could see them now. She could just imagine her maternal great grandfather, the dark glare visible even through the sketched portrait cussing them out and staring disappointedly. Fuck, even if Cerridwen or the other two of the triad saw them? With a teddy bear squeaky toy and or a fucking tennis ball. They'd be cursed, certainly, though fear of divine retribution had never stopped wolfblood's desire for foolish actions before. It hadn't stopped her mother from killing an entire chicken coop a few years ago, nor her friend's relatives from wandering into shops and stealing shit as wolves.

Marie cleared her throat, waving a hand through the space, she picked up the bundle of dried flowers and sprigs in her hand. The twine that bound the bundle was loose. "Now, we light the chamomile."

Fae sighed. Already beginning to strike another match on the match box. It did not light.

"Do we have to burn it? I hate the smell." She scrunched her nose. She was fine with normal chamomile, dried, especially the smell of chamomile tea, but there was something about the smell of fire in the dried petals, the smoke that wafted from it that disgusted her. Marie glared.

"It clears the space, promotes healing."

Fae rolled her eyes. "No one's hurt, though."

Marie turned and gave her a sharp look, eyes dark and twinged with brilliant glowing yellow. When she glared like that she really looked like the portrait of her grandad. "Fae, stop arguing, for fuck sake."

"Hey! Don't swear, not at the alter. They'll smite you. Don't have to be so snappy."

The match still hadn't caught, though when she tried again, it snapped. Fae sighed and threw it away. She pulled out a fresh one, carefully lining up the edge with the box and stain, the girl flicked her wrist, and the end of the match exploded in brilliant flame.

Marie lifted the chamomile to the match, and smiled when it began smoking, Fae followed as the elder woman traversed the room, floral smoke seeping into the corners of the basement and being waved by windows. Though Fae could only hank Cerridwen there was not a smoke alarm down there.

She felt the urge to sneeze coming on, the pounding in her skull returning once more. "Can we open a window, or something?"

"Are you stupid?" Sean cut in. Marie burst into giggles. Fae rolled her eyes.