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fannishlissMadge Carrigan, from 3.08 A Very Supernatural Christmas
Okay, how cool is it that this came out even at 300 words? If you know who she is, you'll get why that's so cool. :)
Time was when men like these would have surged into the fray, crying her name in fierce ululation.
Time was, she would have embraced their violent thrusts as they plunged and tore into one another's bodies for their simple, human reasons.
Time was, she would have inhaled the stink of blood, feasted on flesh so generously riven, and blissfully she would have hovered above the battlefield, a miasma of power breathed forth from the fighting.
Such men as these would have willingly thrown themselves into her arms, trusting her to bear them up when, inevitably, they fell.
The women, too, came to her in battle, in childbirth, and at every moon, and sanctified their little deaths to her.
Now, so many years had passed that even her name had dwindled and changed. No one thought to bow or to pray to her when her raven cawed harshly from behind dark branches. They no longer recognized their own names when she called with an unsubtle voice.
These two boys had come into her home, her last refuge, one stinking of the blood of their devil, one haunted by the hauteur of angels. In her time, good and evil had flowed through life and through death, mingled, those energies not yet distilled, and angels and devils were wispy new things, merely feathers and smoke stirred by an awakening breath.
With a sigh, she greeted the boys, knowing the fate she was likely welcoming. To devour them would gain her a little more strength, but their geas was heavy. If only they had known her name, if only they had known to offer to her as true warriors should, maybe she could have aided them in battle, as she had so many, so many years ago.
But she accepted, instead, their evergreen pike.
Okay, how cool is it that this came out even at 300 words? If you know who she is, you'll get why that's so cool. :)
Time was when men like these would have surged into the fray, crying her name in fierce ululation.
Time was, she would have embraced their violent thrusts as they plunged and tore into one another's bodies for their simple, human reasons.
Time was, she would have inhaled the stink of blood, feasted on flesh so generously riven, and blissfully she would have hovered above the battlefield, a miasma of power breathed forth from the fighting.
Such men as these would have willingly thrown themselves into her arms, trusting her to bear them up when, inevitably, they fell.
The women, too, came to her in battle, in childbirth, and at every moon, and sanctified their little deaths to her.
Now, so many years had passed that even her name had dwindled and changed. No one thought to bow or to pray to her when her raven cawed harshly from behind dark branches. They no longer recognized their own names when she called with an unsubtle voice.
These two boys had come into her home, her last refuge, one stinking of the blood of their devil, one haunted by the hauteur of angels. In her time, good and evil had flowed through life and through death, mingled, those energies not yet distilled, and angels and devils were wispy new things, merely feathers and smoke stirred by an awakening breath.
With a sigh, she greeted the boys, knowing the fate she was likely welcoming. To devour them would gain her a little more strength, but their geas was heavy. If only they had known her name, if only they had known to offer to her as true warriors should, maybe she could have aided them in battle, as she had so many, so many years ago.
But she accepted, instead, their evergreen pike.
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Date: 2010-04-06 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-08 06:54 pm (UTC)My heritage is WV German (similar to the Pennsylvania ones) and my parents remembered Belsnickeling -- going around and threatening people for goods on Christmas eve. The word came from Pels Nichol, or Nicholas in Fur. My mom also remembered Black Peter, his angry assistant, which they didn't include on spn.
The whole pagan god thing on spn seems to owe a lot to Neil Gaiman, esp. the idea that aspects of the gods come with their worshippers, but later wither and die. Re Gaiman, I've taken it that the gods themselves don't necessarily die... just that particular incarnation becomes weaker and weaker. It's pretty interesting. So this Madge Corrigan, bloodthirsty and once powerful, is eking out a much more circumscribed existence than the mighty Morrigan may yet. --if that makes any sense! :P
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Date: 2010-04-08 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 01:04 am (UTC)I love her thoughts about the angels and demons. Very cool!! :D
Now I want to go reread my translation of the Tain.
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Date: 2010-04-07 02:25 am (UTC)I'm not saying she IS the Morrigan, but perhaps one aspect of that Goddess. :)
I also thought it was cool as I was exploring the idea, that she could have been a very cool resource for Samndean if they hadn't killed her.
My witch-learning has all been on the feminist/dianic side, so I don't know a lot about the consort gods... I find her associated with Dagda, but that doesn't seem to match the guy on the show, who to me seems to be more in her employ than her equal.
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Date: 2010-04-12 11:41 pm (UTC)