wolven7 | Story: The Shamans of External Changes.

Shinjuku Filth & Darrin Verhagen - [Loup Alloy]--- Much time had passed, since their last encounter with the outsiders, the soft ones, the slow ones who came from beyond and did not understand the ways of The People, many thousands of years, by the reckonning of the outsiders, and many more by their own, in relation to their fast, brutal lives. But the outsiders had taught them much, had shown them new things, and gave a meaning to that brutality. After all, had not the outsiders brought the People their god?

Vangelis - [Memories of Green]--- All those thousands of years ago, She was shown to the People, She was brought to them, and to the seat of their power, and She brought them low. The Rift Which Lies Between had shown them destruction and ruin, had murdered whole families, clans, and cities, over and over again. But had She not done this to make them better? Had She not made them whole? When they tried to destroy Her, She responded, in kind. When they tried to assimlate Her to their ways, She inverted their efforts, ultimately changing them, breaking them of their stagnant, old ways. (A Perfect Circle - [3 Libras (Massive Attack Remix)]). Of all of the clans, only the shamans could see this, only they could fully understand the gift which had been given to them.

A thousand years after their final physical encounter with the Rift Which Lies, the People began to change and to understand. No longer content with being blindly tied to the monarchy, they began to assert independce, to direct their own lives. They would pair as they wished, breed as they wished, hunt, build, and above all, worship as they wished. No longer were the old gods applicable to their lives, no longer would they live in fear and hungry anticipation of some faceless Creator/Hunter. (cEvin Key - [Sklang]). Their ancestors had seen the Rift, the very Rip in all that they knew, the yawning chasm of destruction and creation, and She was far greater than any mere god of the Hunt. She was far more terrible. They knew this, now, and they would worship her, and they would thank her.

Einstürzende Neubauten - [12305 (Te Nacht)]--- They began to breed themselves into themselves, refining a pure vessel, a sacrificial line with whose blood they might mark themselves in the sacred symbols and find communion with the Rip. Those who would be the ancestors to the shamans designed angular, curving markings, immitating the written leavings of that awful abyss, and they used the blood of their more holy and honoured to tattoo and scar the marks upon themselves. (Einstürzende Neubauten - [Wüste]). This communion complete and indellible, they would scream and howl in the wilderness, and in the silence, they would wait.

They would wait, under the stars, for days and nights, hissing and screeching to the Great Rift, listening to the answering nothing, knowing that they must adapt and evolve to survive, but that the People had seen no true change, for millenia. Though they had known different forms, had seen other skies, they had never known anything other than the blood, the kill, the hunt, and the worship of the queen.

Michael Andrews - [Did You Know Him?]--- Thousands of years later, the shamans sit, across many worlds, their darkest black carapices reflecting the infinte stars. (Nyarlathotep: The Crawling Chaos - [The Garden of Proserpine]). In the cold light they etch themselves in the ever-changing constant swirls of the Rip that Lies, and they begin to change. They know, now, that they are each a drone, each a hybrid, each a queen, and a soldier, and an egg, and an endomorph. The recognition of this constant internal metamorphosis has allowed the shamans something their anscesotrs never had, but may one day know: They are changing. They are becoming, always, aware of what they are. And they still reach out, across the stars.

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She awoke in a dark space, deep inside a crushing blackness that was more than blackness. She had heard her name, or what she thought had been her name, and had seen a light, ahead, as of a single bright star. (Space - [Female of the Species]). As she stretch and rolled, she realised what the emptiness and blackness wer; she stretched, rolled and moved, briefly toward the light. (A Star Called Wormwood - [Synthetic]). She did not care if she reached it, nor what it was, but after so long asleep, movement itself felt good. She felt old muscles against new, and relished the sensation, the potential of it. (Michael Andrews - [Time Travel]). Soon she would be fully awake, and her fingers or claws, teeth and tongues would again know the joy of hot liquid life pouring over them, and the fire from her hands.

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Came up with that idea, last night, when Aliens was on, as we were heading to sleep.

DeathBoy - [Nanowire]--- I hope you enjoyed it, as I'm not sure it did everything i wanted it to, but I'll have to take a look at it, when I'm not ridiculously tired.

Good night. Dream Well.