In Keeping

By the eight faces of the midnight moon,
by her ninth face which is blood,
and her holy reach, which is unto the depths,
I conjure thee.

I give thee the gift of sight, which is fire,
and I give thee also the gift of breath, which is wind,
and I give thee also the gift of form, which is stone,
and I give thee also the gift of blood, which is water.

I bind thee to myself, and I myself am bound to thee.
I bind thee to myself, and I myself am bound to thee.
I bind thee to myself, and I myself am bound to thee.
Thrice have I spake it, thus it is true.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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