I hate to stereotype, but I guess that’s just what you get with cat shamans. They spend so much time being finicky and just so with what they’ve got that they can’t ever let anything go. Nothing changes if they can help it, and they never stick their neck out if it means leaving their comfort zone and getting something ruffled.
Then again, I should probably leave her alone. She says it’s not about finding enlightenment, but following your own bliss. Cats may be picky, but that just means they know what they like and they go for it, so it’s not like she’s not living up to her ideals. I tried to get her to see it my way, but she just laughed and said I’m doing the same thing as her, except my bliss is a lot more restless.
I’ve got, she said, a hard-on for the unknown, the mysteries of the 6th World and how it relates to mankind’s inner worlds. If I’d been born a couple hundred years earlier, I’d be a Theosophist or Spiritualist looking for my past lives in Atlantis and Lemuria and Hyperborea, and seeking out the Akashic Records. And maybe she’s right. But that doesn’t mean that I’m wrong.
The Serpent spoke to me, one bright spring day nearly five years ago. I was sitting in my Advanced Metahuman Anatomy class while the professor was going on about the differences between human and troll endocrine systems, and suddenly I heard a new voice. The Serpent came to me then and whispered a new name into my ear, and… and nothing was the same for me, afterward.
When I came to, they said I’d had a sudden panic attack in the middle of class. First of its kind in my life. I’d leapt to my feet, yelled something in… some language. Someone said they thought it sounded like Hebrew. Another person said it sounded like Russian. The professor said he’d thought it was Japanese, and an elven girl in the class had said it sounded like Sperethiel, only not quite. The only thing they agreed on is that I suddenly had scales instead of skin, stood up screaming, and then curled up in a ball in the back corner of the lecture hall until someone from Student Health Services came to get me. My skin was back to normal, but my bed in the SHS office was full of shed snake scales.