mormorando, religioso, simile, amoroso

A brilliant wind whips within the hut. Without, the sea lashes against the stilts holding it aloft, and the owls circle overhead like carrion birds.

Anyone nearby enough to see the hut will see flashes — blue as midnight lightning, gold as autumn sunshine, purple as sunrise — and with each one, Macha laughs and sobs and squeals. Her jars have broken, shattered by the selkie's song, and as her emotions swirl back into her, so too does she swirl, her stone crumbling away and the magic awakening in her once more.

Macha indulges in a miserable weep afterwards, as the gravity of her feelings and her actions catch up to her. Oh, these poor people. These poor, poor souls. The damage she's done to them, taking away their emotions as she had…

But she can undo it. She will undo it.

With a golden glimmer, she takes her true form. She opens the jars — so many jars, mountains of jars — and she sails out of her hut, guiding those lost feelings back to their owners. Over her stepping stones she goes, trailing golden magical brilliance behind her. It settles over the figures within and they rouse, gasping and holding each other for the first time in… Well, who really knows?

Macha finds each and every one of the people she'd sent her owls after. Some are perfectly carved sculptures. Some are only halfway there, her magic held at bay by some beautiful power she could never know. And thank goodness for that, she thinks. Imagine the harm if she'd succeeded in her ill-begot plan.

Only once her magic has touched everyone does she wheel back to her hut. It stands alone on a stilling sea, and as she settles on the front stoop to look out at the city she'd only known for a short time, she, and it, fade from view.

[ Macha has seen the error of her ways, and returned the wayward feelings back to their rightful owners! Feel free to use this gathering to resolve your pups’ petrification; as before, it's set to anywhere that works for your pup, any time in the evening or later! ]