Yuletide Prayer
Murdoch honours the old gods this Christmas
As the others were preoccupied with Christmas activities, Murdoch excused himself.
He grabbed a cup of wine, and approached the fireplace.
"Brighid, light of the hearth, patron of smiths, reborn in the solstice, please let this be a joyful year."
He had muttered that prayer, hoping to not draw too much attention, but Cliff ws already by his side, eyeing him curiously. He ignored them for the moment, continuing his focus on the moving flames.
He then poured the wine into the burning logs, creating a hissing sound. The flames rose in height, powered by the alcohol, joyous as the goddess herself.
"Isn't Brighid a saint?" Cliff asked, figuring the ritual was over.
"Irish saints are all Celtic gods" Murdoch replied, "There's quite a lot of attestations of Brighid as a goddess before Christianisation."
"Oh, I figured that'd be the case."
Cliff then kissed Murdoch gently. The fox swore seeing a face in the flames, winking at him.
Proud of himself, he bowed before the flames one last time, before joining the others.