Two years, and the fire grows - birthday feast

Ralla · 12-15-2010, 12:48 AM

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See here for example :3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_exXwIcLG1g

Ralla's heart was hammering like the drums that her Chief beat, altering pace, steadying, repeat. The invitation to the new ceremony had been unexpected, and what part she was to play had been asked of her with a large expectation. But she wanted to do it with all her heart; oh, how she had longed for that day to come! Chief Dawali had taken her and Sanuye to the side and explained the celebration and what he wished of them, and she had jumped at the offer. It was an opportunity to become closer to her tribesmembers; closer with the Great Fire and the spirituality. The previous days she had spent readying her staff and jewelry for the ceremony, laborously searching and crudely crafting herself what she would need. How hard it had been to keep it all secret!

Her Chief's voice rang loud and clear in song, and Ralla's head whipped up as a smile curled at her lips, knuckles turning white from clutching the staff so tightly. It was time.

Stepping gracefully from the shadows, illuminated only by the fire at the end of her staff at first, Ralla made cat-like steps towards the ceremonial grounds, eyes downcast as she had practiced. Her long mane, kept back in a low ponytail still from her forehead to lay bare her crescent moon brand, was bedecked with green and red beads to compliment her eyes. Similar beads hung around her wrists and ankles, although these clacked together with every step and movement, as if echoing and amplifying the heart of the music that her Chief sang. Red paint outlined her eyes and marked her arms and legs in the tribal patterns, standing out vividly on her white pelt. The staff she held was one that had not been easy to come by--around her same height with a wieldly girth--and was inexpertly carved to smoothness. Around the end was wrapped a durable cloth that would burn, but slowly, since it had been soaked in the tallow solution she usually made before solidifying.

Once on the stone ground, Ralla waited a full three beats before lifting her head suddenly, beginning the true dance. She twirled her staff within her hands as she herself swept in circles, the movements fluid and gentle as mist, even as the fire followed to burn a bright path. The heat from the Great Fire seemed to converge around her as she let herself go, stomping the earth and creating ethereal patterns with that fire of hers that tied her to her purpose; to celebrate the formation of AniWaya and the greatness that represented it.

Faster and faster she danced, lifting her legs and arms higher and higher, twisting that flaming rod around wrists and ankles and back. For days she had practiced this dance, but for years before she had danced amongst the fires of the Crescent Moon Pack. The dance she was performing had held remanant memories from what she had been taught, but what she was doing then was unique and new; apart from her old life. In the darkness, as she spun the staff around her waist with a quick flick of the wrist, it appeared as if she were surrounded by a vortex of red. Unconsciously, she had harmonized with her Chief's song, slowing as he did, and vice versa. All she wanted to do was dance and never let the adrennaline end; to continue her homage to the place that had welcomed her from loneliness, to express her passion. But she could not be so selfish.

The end of her part was nearing as she performed one last trick; the trick that had cost her most of her time and had left her without attention for anything else. Throwing the staff high into the air--letting it spin in a circle, praying to all the spirits and to the moon that it would not fail--Ralla pirouetted twice on the ball of her foot and bent in an acute arch backwards, catching the staff--much too near the flame for comfort, but catching it nonetheless--with one leg held out. From there, she bent forwards again and knelt on one knee to her Chief, the staff held upright before she motioned it gently to the Town Hall. The dance was not over yet, and Ralla's smile remained.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

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