Fair warning: this blog details a little of my religious leaning. DON'T WORRY-I'm not going to try and convert anyone at any time! I'm just going to drop some info here and there so it makes sense. Everyone okay? Okay, here's my story.
So,...hi, my name is Krista and I'm a heathen. I worship Norse gods. Christians worship and pray to one god who looks after them and makes sure they don't come to any harm. I worship the entire Norse pantheon. I believe there are many gods and goddesses who are guiding me, protecting me, and are ready to whop me upside the head with a giant cast iron skillet when I think about doing something counter to set plans or ethics. On the whole my morals and ethics have only intensified through my learnings, and I am as goody-two shoes as you're likely to meet. There I've said it, now someone will take it as a challenge. I know what you're thinking folks, and Susie Homemaker was an amalgam-not a real lady!
Okay, so A and B from my kindred went to what's called a Freyfaxi last weekend over in Kansas. It was hosted by our good friends from the Golden Shield Kindred. The ritual was held to honor the coming harvest and fall and everyone who went had a good time. [Everyone mainly made eloquent toasts and drank mead, liquor, and beer-except for the host who's been sober for a year or two now.] After their long, long trip back, they arrived a few hours before we were due in Cheyenne to meet some new friends. They made it back at 10am, and B and I left for Cheyenne at 5pm. B was still a little travel-logged. We made it there and got to participate in a blot (worship service) to induct two new members into their kindred. It was fascinating. Their kindred (WoV) is made up mainly of men in their 20's to early 30's and they follow a type of primitive heathenism. Their ritual was like watching the scene from Thirteenth Warrior where Antonio Banderas and his crew stumble upon the cave dwellers. Most of the men had waist length hair, and several wore slashed pants and no shirts. And of course their chests were nicely muscled down to their six packs. Sigh, it was a beautiful sight. Although the slashes and rips kept garnering my interest more than their chests as I was almost itching for a needle and thread to mend it. B kept laughing at my stares and my mutters of "just 5 min, in 5 min I could get that gash fixed like new. They wouldn't even have to take off their pants/shirt/jacket!" I can't help it, I think I have an OCD mending problem. I frequently was distracted by the amount of manly wear and tear all these guys were exhibiting on their clothing.
Right, so the ritual. It was interesting. They streaked ash across their faces and let their hair down and roamed, prowled or paced around the firepit shrieking runes into the darkening skies. It was a feral sound barely controlled and it fascinated as it sent shivers down your back. All I could think was "if berserkers still existed in this world-here they were." Some of the Wolves had furs across their broad shoulders, others went without as if daring the cold to touch them. I felt almost an anthropologic twinge in observing their ritual, mixed with a heathen-like "oh, yeah!" at the customs and magic emanating from their circle. But, all things must come to a close. And this one did, but it wasn't over quite yet.
After the ritual was over, most of the visiting kindreds stayed a while to converse and make new contacts. But pretty soon, it was just B and me with about 10 men. I wasn't worried because I was far more sober then any of them, and most of them were held to the same morals and rules I was. If anything was going to happen, it would be consented to by both parties. Flirting was definitely a possibility though. Because well, I'm single and I gathered at least half of their men were single as well... However, I appear to need more work in flirting, because after three hours of chatting with only male company-I succeeded, in braiding their hair. No tickle wars, no fluttering of eyelashes, no exchanging of numbers, NO. No, I managed to rope myself into a braiding circle where I ended up braiding hair. To be fair though, they looked pretty dang good by the time I got done with them. Well, after they survived it, they squawked a bit as I grabbed hair from around their temples but all in all, their plaits came out quite fetching. I was reminded of historical stories of men getting their hair braided before they went off to war so it would stay manageable through combat. These men looked like they meant business after I was done with their hair. So yeah, there I was with a half-naked, highly muscled, definitely all male subject on the ground in front of my chair, entirely at my mercy.....and I was braiding his hair like a 10yr old girl. Somewhere there was a flirting coach with a headache smacking their head. On the plus side, they didn't walk away when I started talking, although their eyes were somewhat glazed over. Of course, that might have been because they were highly inebriated and couldn't have walked very well even if they'd tried. One of the boys did complain of a sore shoulder and I started massaging the kinks out of it for him, which earned a shocked comment from another guy. He apparently didn't believe I existed, what with being heathen, living in Wyoming, braiding hair, and knowing massage. :D That's me, full of surprises.
But that was all that happened. We came, we toasted, we chatted, we braided, and then we went home. Til next time!
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