08-10-2009, 10:16 AM
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The Green Corn Ceremony was a celebration of utmost importance. At least, according to Dawali it was. The Kalona had taken the opportunity to visit Honoré a few days prior. And in spite of all the details and explanations provided on that day, the Québécois still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind their fasting. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t known what fasting meant until recently. Renouncing to his favorite food hadn’t been easy. But no matter how much he’d suffered from the abstinence, his determination and goodwill had led him to success. He’d initially taken a seat close to little Noir but she’d wiggled away shortly after, leaving him by his lonesome at the back of the group.
Whilst relocating himself closer to his sister, Honoré kept his eyes on the fire ahead. It was pretty indeed, and he quite liked the way Dawali handled it. More cool points were attributed to him because of this. Not only was he a detective, but he was also a talented fire starter! Everything was going well; Honoré spared a few smiles to the pack mates he didn’t know. Perhaps the Aniwayans would appreciate him more than his former companions back in Phoenix Valley. He would do his best to please them, even if it meant keeping his mouth shut in public.
He hadn’t inquired what the ceremonial fire was for, simply assuming that it was meant as a source of light and nothing more. But when both leaders decided to throw packages onto the flames, his heart stopped beating. Honoré might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he knew what was in there. Oh, lord! What were they doing? Winter would come knocking at their doors in a few months time, and here they were, throwing food away! Hazel-hued eyes widened with shock as realization washed over him. Either Dawali had omitted to mention this part of the ceremony, or Honoré simply hadn’t paid enough attention.
Protectively clutching his leather backpack, he slowly (and not so subtly) backed further away from the group until he reached a small brush. Luckily enough, his niece provided the distraction needed for him to throw his beloved sacrifice, a ketchup bottle, into the shrubbery. He’d foreseen the sound it would make, and as it landed, Honoré forced a cough out of his throat. A few faces undoubtedly turned towards him, and he promptly offered an apology. “Sorry, something caught in mine throat.” he started, pausing in between comments to conjure up a plan. “I’m think I’m lost my sacrifice Dawali, sorry.”
The Green Corn Ceremony was a celebration of utmost importance. At least, according to Dawali it was. The Kalona had taken the opportunity to visit Honoré a few days prior. And in spite of all the details and explanations provided on that day, the Québécois still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind their fasting. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t known what fasting meant until recently. Renouncing to his favorite food hadn’t been easy. But no matter how much he’d suffered from the abstinence, his determination and goodwill had led him to success. He’d initially taken a seat close to little Noir but she’d wiggled away shortly after, leaving him by his lonesome at the back of the group.
Whilst relocating himself closer to his sister, Honoré kept his eyes on the fire ahead. It was pretty indeed, and he quite liked the way Dawali handled it. More cool points were attributed to him because of this. Not only was he a detective, but he was also a talented fire starter! Everything was going well; Honoré spared a few smiles to the pack mates he didn’t know. Perhaps the Aniwayans would appreciate him more than his former companions back in Phoenix Valley. He would do his best to please them, even if it meant keeping his mouth shut in public.
He hadn’t inquired what the ceremonial fire was for, simply assuming that it was meant as a source of light and nothing more. But when both leaders decided to throw packages onto the flames, his heart stopped beating. Honoré might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he knew what was in there. Oh, lord! What were they doing? Winter would come knocking at their doors in a few months time, and here they were, throwing food away! Hazel-hued eyes widened with shock as realization washed over him. Either Dawali had omitted to mention this part of the ceremony, or Honoré simply hadn’t paid enough attention.
Protectively clutching his leather backpack, he slowly (and not so subtly) backed further away from the group until he reached a small brush. Luckily enough, his niece provided the distraction needed for him to throw his beloved sacrifice, a ketchup bottle, into the shrubbery. He’d foreseen the sound it would make, and as it landed, Honoré forced a cough out of his throat. A few faces undoubtedly turned towards him, and he promptly offered an apology. “Sorry, something caught in mine throat.” he started, pausing in between comments to conjure up a plan. “I’m think I’m lost my sacrifice Dawali, sorry.”