---Entry 20/Divination 1/Dreams of Destiny---
Dear Gretel,
It's been my habit to call the non-trails "intermissions," but this is different. Different enough where I don't know if there are going to be anymore of them. For entries like this, I'm going to call it "Divination," for reasons I'll explain.
I wonder if I've said "fuck fate" too often over the years, and in this journal, cause fate took exception to it and decided to fuck me. Strangely, it wasn't a "revenge fuck me in the ass" kind of fuck, but more of a vigorous, stimulating one that wasn't all bad. Esmeraude told me before that "fate never ignores;" even if she's right, I hate her a bit for being fate's little helper recently.
The night after my last entry, something happened. Something got me out of bed in the middle of the night. Untangling myself from jeremy was hard as I was really comfortable there, but something like that urge to get up and use the bathroom hit me. I'd gotten up and started walking away from the bed; I didn't even know where I was going or what the sensation wanted, but none of those questions kept me from walking further into the darkness of the apartment. Even as sleepy awareness told me that the dark room was turning pitch black, it was hard to mind that fact. I briefly questioned my sleepy awareness, gauging if I was dreaming; parts of it felt like a dream, parts of it didn't. Tired as I was, it never occurred to me this could be someone's spell upon me.
Deep in the blackness, unable to see what was ahead, knowing the bed behind me was cloaked in enough darkness that I couldn't find it if I turned around, something in me decided to rest on the floor. So down I went, crossing my legs, a sense of accomplishment washing over me. Not only did it seem right to me, but my surroundings approved as well as changes started happening. Structures started forming around me, shone on by a light source from somewhere. It wasn't like dawn hitting buildings early in the morning, the structures around me were already bright like my body was, only increasing in clarity until I realized the structures were legs. I didn't recognize any of the pairs of legs I saw, until I looked up.
My coven surrounded me, towering above me like monuments; it was no wonder I didn't recognize those legs, why would I be used to my slaves looking down at me? The wore their signature nightgowns, glassy eyes, but focused smiles. The air felt so thick with magic, I felt the chants before I heard them. It was some Latin rite I couldn't decipher right away, and yet I knew what it was - something to do with one of the Seven Wonders, Divination. The part of my brain still registering things finally solved the mystery of some memories; the way the trio looked at things as if they were more than they were, it was Divination all along, trying to connect to whatever mimetic sight the object could give them. Fear also registered as I realized their Divination chant was meant that this time, I was the object. That was the first time I struggled against the darkness and this dream I'd slipped into.
Feeling more magic than my own body, I'd tapped into Telekinesis to levitate myself off of the ground to rise above and away from the circle encapsulating me. I'd only gotten so far off the ground as something below stopped me; looking down, jeremy appeared out of nowhere as well, on hands and knees. It was if he'd crawled over from bed and found me in the darkness, led by hunger he fulfilled burying his face in my crotch. My head tipped upwards, and I felt myself slipping into the aura of the rite, time slowing as the effects of G-Concilium brought everything to metaphysical clarity. Eyes closed, I still saw the raised hands, three sets of lips chanting as one, Esmeraude's glowing scrying crystal, and flashes of future events that came to me as if they were memories.
I saw another rite being performed, me at the center in my kaftan, my trio in black cloaks. I was thinking the thoughts of more than one person, the stream of G-Concilium extending further beyond the hypothesis of my last trial. Reading their thoughts was almost as easy as sending thoughts for them to think. I laughed my terrible laugh as I felt beads of arousal run down their legs, wanting so desperately stimulate themselves through any means possible; I allowed no such relief, keeping their hands and minds locked on the rite, building their need to the point of intolerance, before I'd let them go, only to bathe me in the pleasure their bodies needed.
I saw myself in-front of other witches, being stared down at like an outsider. I was alone, unable to rely on anyone else, and smiling back at their attempts at intimidation. At that moments, we had plans against each other. They wanted to suppress me, which felt odd to present thinking as I didn't think they knew of me outside of affiliation to Aunt Maggie or Ma. I wanted to make them slaves of course, but their looks of worries behind their arrogant facades only fueled my devilish and determined side, ready to take on the establishment. One face stood out more than most, a Caucasian beauty about my age, looking as determined as me, but sensing a cauldron-full of different emotions, not all of them stemming from me.
I saw orgies featuring my coven, bodies slithering together like snakes in a pit.
I saw new faces looking very lost and/or very lustful.
I saw new spells being cast.
In most of the visions, "I love Cherish, and obey" was echoed amongst the many faces and places, making the visions overall rapturous, before silence took over in the next.
The most obscured of them was something more felt than seen, easily recognizable as the source of all the hesitation I had in peering into the unknown. My surroundings were cold, clothing barely adequate and shrouded. Hands were tied like a straight jacket. Imprisonment, loss, sapped of energy. The only solace available feels like warmth coming from outside, meaning the cell I have has some connection to the outside world. But it also feels like a cruel example, as if the whole world gets to have warmth in their lives, interpersonal warmth that makes life worth living. All of my deepest connections were slaves I forced into my life. Severed bonds with people's wills left me freezing on the inside, in a way direct sunlight would never cure. The only person I didn't have to mindfuck to remain in my company was Kathie, and all I can figure is my absence must feel like abandonment. I can't imagine how and where everyone else is. jeremy might be under someone else's rule, giving someone else's cunt his signature worship, or worse yet, allowed or encouraged to become the man he was again.
Such a nightmarish feeling takes me to the least obscured vision, seeing Esmeraude in bed, freed from my control, but still struggling with what was. Rescued from the sex-crazed witch Cherish, my redhead must be going through serious withdrawal. Connie and Esther would too, but no one felt it as strong as Esmeraude; it wasn't just passion forced upon her, at some point it became a mission. She'd sunk so much of herself into my success that being told it was wrong created some kind of rift in her. The rift widened every night she slept, past righteousness reminding her over and over that what she's returned to is the pious, right path. It yelled at her loins that continued to achingly, automatically lust for me. It often turned into an internal war of reasoning, a philosophical battle that most times ended in a stalemate, the night Cherish saw in her vision was not one of those nights.
Tears rolled down Esmeraude's eyes, whispering her old mantra, wishing things were back to normal. My slave's normal had become being a slave, following, advising, and loving a special woman to a special destiny, curtailed by the forces that be. Her essence cried out into the night, crying to reach out to mine; I never responded, couldn't. I have no doubt numerous barriers kept us apart, from helpful witch aids and magical interventionists, to undisclosed prisons and powerful barriers separating me from everything else. On the nights she reached out, she'd always gripped her scrying crystal; that night, the grip was so strong Cherish wouldn't have been surprised if she'd crushed it in her palm. Some alignment of that night allowed her to reach out for me like never before. Esmeraude reached out in every direction, not realizing that she'd reached beyond the present.
Esmeraude managed a form of Descensum, or astral projection by accident, proving to me how much raw power she really possessed, and is helping me feel better about being bested by her as I write this. She reached out so hard, some of her energies hit her past self, which completely explains why the first time I laid eyes on her at the spice shop brawl, it was like she already knew me. But her main target was me, and when the present me couldn't be found, her energies time-traveled back to now. Like tonight now.
I'd opened my eyes in the middle of the rite, realizing then that they'd been closed the whole time, my third eye seeing all those flash-forwards. Time around me was somehow slower than in G-Concilium; any movement around me was practically imperceptible, like 100x slower. I lowered myself out of jeremy's worship, crawling through the circle to a dim light source in the distance. The closer I got, the more I felt connected with Esmeraude. Future Esmeraude.
Stepping out of the darkness, I found myself in some bedroom that wasn't part of Esther's apartment, with Esmeraude strewn about the sheets, still crying out for me. The pull to approach her was magnetic, urging me forward to greet my pining slave. Crossing the room, I saw myself in the mirror, naked but wearing some light aura around me that resembled the glow of the crystal. Slowly creeping into bed, I dominantly purred into her ear.
"Esmeraude."
It was then when she started to come back to waking up, and she saw my Descensum-self brought to her. She looked at me like an answered prayer, in total awe and disbelief that I existed.
