A specific draw

Slavic · cloudy

Mokosh

earth-mother, spinner of fates

Mokosh is the only goddess raised in Perun's own pantheon on the hilltop, the damp mother of the moist earth, guardian of women's work and the wet places where flax grows. She sits unseen at her great spindle and draws out the threads of every human life, and on the nights between Thursday and Friday, her sacred day, no faithful woman dares to spin, lest she tangle the goddess's own work. The grey clouds drifting low and unbroken are her unfinished spinnings, raw wool not yet pulled into thread, hanging in the upper air while she decides their length. A flat overcast day is Mokosh deep in her counting, sorting the long lives from the short, the bright from the plain. The water she rules keeps the world soft, the wells full, the linen ready for the loom. Do not break her quiet with loud demands, for a careless word can shorten a thread.

Cloud on a Friday is her own day wearing her own veil, rest something, mend something, spin nothing new.