Be Not Fearful

Pripyat Soul · 10-21-2011, 02:15 PM

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Set between Highway 104 and Naiades Lighthouse (ie. the middle of nowhere). Oct 31 sundown! ALL WELCOME AND ENCOURAGED. if you prefer to have a one on one thread or a thread with fewer people but still be in on the celebration, you may post in this thread once or twice set a private thread as an extension of this thread (those tend to move quicker). Just assume others are in the background having a grand old time XD Remember, Samhain is about drinking, dancing, music and good times XD oh, and ghosts. NO POSTING ORDER. THIS IS CHAOS.

Pripyat couldn’t quite pinpoint when all the trouble had begun. He had perhaps grown too comfortable, although under the weight of the braches and logs he hauled one could not mistake his strain for comfort. Although he could have perhaps taken loan of one of the horses housed in the ranch he preferred not to burden any other beast with such menial tasks as moving firewood. It was his chore now. Eika. Pripyat had found that he much preferred this rank to his previous one, especially now that the honey eyed angel had also fled from the Envoy class. No one in the Herald class had approached him or asked anything of him, he could withdraw into himself and his fire making to his heart's content.

And the boy, or rather man that he was now, had indeed immersed himself in fire keeping rather than let him mind mull over what had gone wrong. For a few weeks he had been preparing for this fire, which must last from sundown until sun up. The pile he brought now to the clearing was the last of the wood he would need, and he perhaps did not even need it. The wood he had gathered over the weeks was more than enough, but Pripyat would take no chances, if the fire went out before dawn he left the pack open to any ghosts that might be wandering in the hearts and minds of the pack members that night. The ash colored lad especially had some ghosts he wished to avoid that night.

Two eyes, the color of sun infused ocean, glanced over the other assorted materials. The pile of dead vines from the vineyard was formidable, but Pripyat knew that and all the dead flowers he had collected from the borders would burn far too fast. Yet there was enough that they could add them to the fire all night. The bones from the slain animals was smaller, those that had come from the Lughnasadh feast and those from other's Mabon meals were held apart from the bones that came from ordinary hunts and meals. Also the boy had herbs that he knew to burn sweet, they would infuse the air all night. And yet he could not throw any of this on the flames until the others arrived, and so merely he put a fair amount of wood in the center of the stone circle he had crafted and began to rub the sticks together, letting himself get absorbed in the task.

The sun sank lower upon the large field Pripyat had selected with Nayru. There was room enough for whatever merriment or lack of mirth the members would decide to partake in and the stone circle was large enough that all members of Ichika might find a place around it. Large logs and stones suitable for seats were placed here and there, though Pripyat knew most would not make use of them for too long. Samhain was not for sitting, though he himself had reserved a seat near to the fire so he might keep watch over it all night. The boy had just created the first spark when Nayru arrived, bearing bottles of wine almost too numerous to count. The pack strapped to her back made the tiny lady look a hunch back and the Jiryu seemed to strain under the basket full of the fermented juice she carried. Yet she said no words as she set them down and took a seat watching he boy.

Looking up her's was only the third face he had seen since Arye's, and he was sorry when she did not react to the scar fresh upon his face. He remembered how carefully he had crafted it, the stick not quite on fire but the wood still hot embers. How careful he had been to keep his eyesight when giving himself the same mark his father had bore across his right eye. Pink and raw it was certain that no fur would ever grow back in the place seared clear, and he was glad of it. Too often he had been painfully aware of how closely he resembled his mother and not his father, and thought Jefferson would have scoffed at his foolish action neither he, nor Geneva nor Arye were here to chastise him. Pripyat would need to bear no mask for Samhain for he himself had disfigured his own face.

"Merry Samhain Jiryu." And he turned back to the fire, building it up until it was a great blaze and he had to step back, for fear of catching any of his thick pelt on fire. This was his duty for the evening, Nayru and the others could take care of the rest.

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