I. The Myth
Jul. 15th, 2019 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vulpinsanityFor as long as life has existed on this planet, there has also been death, and once humans began to evolve the conscious thought and the perception that they too would die one day, stories were told, and death began to take a form. It was one of the first tribes that made them corporeal, as a pair of twin foxes, guiding the immortal souls of mankind to their final resting places. The older fox approached the ones who welcomed death, making it merciful and painless, and guiding those souls gently to the afterlife. The younger enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the ones who tried to escape their inevitable demise would feel its jaws at their necks, viciously and painfully dragging them to their deaths. The foxes maintained a delicate balance for the benefit of mankind. The transition from life to death was a seamless, unbroken path. Those who died were escorted to their eternal peace.
They were never loved deities, but it was well known that their existence served a vital purpose. People respected them, told stories about them, and worshipped them. They were noble spirits, dutiful and just when it came to their obligations. Offerings always surrounded their altars, and prayers always reached their ears. For all the gifts and worship, for giving them bodies that could interact with the living world, the foxes loved mankind and took care of them.
Yet there were always those who feared death, and giving it corporeal form gave those tribes a tangible force to rally against. Tribes that didn’t keep altars for the foxes, along with some members of tribes that did provide offerings for Death’s favor, briefly came together to harness primordial magicks to subdue the foxes, for even if they were immortals, they still had physical forms which could be bound, and the idea of “overcoming death” was too enticing to be ignored.
The humans that they once adored had turned against them. With spears and arrows, they ran the foxes into the forest. Hounds bit at their heels as they fled, seeking shelter in a small cave, only to realize too late that they had been led to there intentionally, and their shelter would become their tomb. Once inside, the power that the tribes harness bound them to the location, trapping them within. Then came the fire, burning at their physical bodies. The smaller fox took the brunt of the spell’s power, burning up and falling dormant in the ash-encased husk of his charred body.
The larger brother tried to fight back, but the burns were too severe, and since he was unable to escape, was eventually bound as well, wrapped in chains before the entrance to the cave was collapsed.
Despite their momentary triumph, the tribes soon realized that what they had done hadn’t saved them from a mortal end. The foxes were never death itself, but served as guides beyond the veil. Men would still die, but instead of having a guide to lead them to their final rest, they became lost. Mankind had unwittingly created limbo for their souls to wander.
They were never loved deities, but it was well known that their existence served a vital purpose. People respected them, told stories about them, and worshipped them. They were noble spirits, dutiful and just when it came to their obligations. Offerings always surrounded their altars, and prayers always reached their ears. For all the gifts and worship, for giving them bodies that could interact with the living world, the foxes loved mankind and took care of them.
Yet there were always those who feared death, and giving it corporeal form gave those tribes a tangible force to rally against. Tribes that didn’t keep altars for the foxes, along with some members of tribes that did provide offerings for Death’s favor, briefly came together to harness primordial magicks to subdue the foxes, for even if they were immortals, they still had physical forms which could be bound, and the idea of “overcoming death” was too enticing to be ignored.
The humans that they once adored had turned against them. With spears and arrows, they ran the foxes into the forest. Hounds bit at their heels as they fled, seeking shelter in a small cave, only to realize too late that they had been led to there intentionally, and their shelter would become their tomb. Once inside, the power that the tribes harness bound them to the location, trapping them within. Then came the fire, burning at their physical bodies. The smaller fox took the brunt of the spell’s power, burning up and falling dormant in the ash-encased husk of his charred body.
The larger brother tried to fight back, but the burns were too severe, and since he was unable to escape, was eventually bound as well, wrapped in chains before the entrance to the cave was collapsed.
Despite their momentary triumph, the tribes soon realized that what they had done hadn’t saved them from a mortal end. The foxes were never death itself, but served as guides beyond the veil. Men would still die, but instead of having a guide to lead them to their final rest, they became lost. Mankind had unwittingly created limbo for their souls to wander.
