You were, you were beautiful
#1
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Date: February 10th
Location: Adagio Creek
Everyone are welcome. No post order.

The creek was frozen, but still it appeared the very image of calm. This was the spot the Chief had chosen. He was the Gola Watsi before he had become the Chief, and still he was a medic in his heart. The elders had taught him some of the rituals, though not all. He knew, however, that the water could take many forms, as could wolves. He chose this spot because the calm creek was constant; it flowed underneath the ice, still calmly, never overflowing its boundaries, always keeping the same fish. Theodoric had been a calm presence in the pack; Dawali had met him only a few times, but his face had been one he had found comfort in. They had been two of a kind, perhaps; both quite a few years older than the rest, both interested in the art of weaving. Some of the male's blankets covered him where he lay in the bottom of the fragile, woven boat, instruments of his trade, as well as other gifts and foods, spread around his resting form. The boat was painted bright red; red for the courage needed to step into the afterlife. The male did not lack a single thing, and AniWaya would not forget a thing. The little pain the Chief endured from his broken leg to perform the last goodbyes was so trivial in comparison.


The russet Chief hummed a prayer as he carefully lifted the hardened leather pouch which held the single ember he had taken from the Great Fire. It guided them all through life, and one child of it would guide poor Theodoric to the next level of existence. It, too, seemed to be affected by the calm, and it continued to glow as if a firefly from the height of Theodoric's chest, where he had placed it. "Wakan Tankan Nici Un," he said, quietly. Spring would come and melt the ice, and for a short while the calm creek would become a fearsome rapid, and Theodoric would travel far from here to peace. His journey would be courageous, as were his last hours as he awaited the end of the storm that took his life spirit from him.


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#2
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300+

Just when the tribe had thought the storm had done all the damage it possible could, the body of one of their own had been found. Nayati did not know Theodoric well, they had only met a handful of times, and had only talked in depth once. He had liked the man though, and to lose any member of the tribe in such a way was a horrendous loss. The snowstorm had taken much from them, nearly everything it could. Material possessions were replaceable. They could rebuild their huts, regain the tools and trinkets they had lost in the chaos. A life could never be won back though. They, as mortals, did not hold the power to restore Theodoric to life. It was a permanent loss, one that could never be replaced with anything else. It made the hunter's heart ache in his chest.


He stood by the Adagio Creek and the red boat that held the body of their deceased tribesmember. The Gadui Kanati was not a man to cry easily, and he did not now, but the sorrow held in his pale blue orbs were apparent to anyone who would look. It did not matter that he had not know Theodoric well, he was an AniWayan, and attending his funeral was not a choice it was an obligation. The very least that anyone could do for him. There was not much left after the storm, but he had wanted to give the foreign man some small gift. He had chosen the white dreamcatcher he had found in the old human town all those months back. Once Dawali was done setting the ember from the Great Fire on his chest, Nayati walked slowly up and tucked the dreamcatcher into the boat beside the man. "Wakan Tankan Nici Un," he whispered as he stepped back, his head bowed solemnly.

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#3
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Sneak-derp in here too >.> My goodness, all my posts seem to be sappy lately T-T

It was tragedy that followed relief.


Just earlier that day Ralla had found Kemo and Sugar safe from the blizzard that had ravaged the land. For a moment, she had thought that the Great Fire's dying embers from the day before had lasted long enough to extend its protection to all in AniWaya. But she had been too late in reviving it, it seemed. Theodoric... She had met him once with Pepper, and he had been amiable and kind. His weaving had been artistic and passionate, and now, in the red boat in Adagio Creek, laid a tribemate. Her head was downcast and small tears pricked her eyes, even as she blinked them tightly to keep the water from spilling over. No matter that he was not an intimate friend; he was family.


She stood back, silent, not wanting to disrespect any ritual that Chief Dawali was performing for their lost family. Behind their chief was Nayati, who placed a Dream-Catcher in the boat with Theodoric after the ember from the reincarnated Great Fire. She had no material possession--since the ceremony had been a complete surprise to her--but she had words. Following at a distance from the white warrior, switching places with him, she knelt by the serene face of Theodoric and, leaning in close to his ear, whispered to him a story so low that it may've sounded like hushed gibberish to anyone else. It was short, but it was something to give Theodoric a little bit of herself, and she hoped that Theodoric's spirit would hear it as he travelled to hunt with the Great Spirits and ancestors. Did you know, Theodoric? I've seen a lot of weaving done, but when I saw your work, it was like magic. I saw a green tapestry you had, and thought 'It's like spring'. And now you're going to go there, Theo; it's always spring there. There'll be singing birds and cool water and lush grass. And you'll never be alone. We'll be there soon, too, you know. We'll miss you till then, but you just have to wait. But you won't mind; spring is there. And you'll keep on weaving spring into those blankets, won't you? "Wakan Tankan Nici Un," she said. Standing, Ralla returned to her spot, the tears having tumbled over. She was silent from then on.


Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.


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Table by Meghann!

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#4
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WC:227 OOC: sad lili is sad Sad


When the news of Theodoric’s death came to Liliana she felt devastated. She was not extremely close, but she knew the man on personal grounds, they had worked together to start making blankets for the horses, and he showed her a little bit of what he did. She could not hide the tears in her eyes. So when it was time for the funeral, Liliana cut the tails of both ponies he had owned, knowing he would want to know that she was taking care of them, and that they would still be with him no matter what. She was sniffing as Dawali gave the ceremony, she was trying to hold back the tears as much as she could. After Ralla gave her words she came to the boat with the two long locks of hair, she’d cut the pony’s tails as short as they could allow, and placed them one in each arm. Tears ran down her dark face as she stared at the dead man. He was gone, and she could do nothing, he was such a kind man, who did not diserve to die. She wiped her eyes trying to stay strong, she would have to soon, and moved back to her place next to Nayati. Wrapping an arm around his waist and laying her head on him.

Wakan Tankan Nici Un

she whispered.


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#00+
Table by Alli
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#5
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OOC here: Table & Coding © Alli


She had no idea who was within the woven basket. She hadn't been in AniWaya for too long. Then a portion that she was ended up being spent waiting out a storm. But even if she didn't know him she knew that there were customs that had to be preserved. She'd already had gone through this with Meda when she had first gotten here. Now there was this one. Since she wanted to follow in her uncle's footsteps she felt an obligation to attend all of these ceremonies. She would have to learn all of this. One day she hoped to be the Ookah and then she would be overseeing these ceremonies. Of course that was a future goal. She still had to get through the phase of shifting and gaining a spirit guide. But at least she knew which direction that she was heading with her life.

She remained silent and waiting along the sides, standing next to her uncle. She didn't have anything to give. Well she had one thing at least. She glanced up at Dawali before moving over to the boat. She pulled the blanket from her back, the only thing that she had, and placed it into the boat. She hoped she wouldn't get in too much trouble for this but she felt the need to give something. "Wakan tankan nici un." She repeated the prayer like everyone else.

She moved to return to her place next to the Chief, granted she tried to cuddle a little closer this time she since had given up her blanket to that the tribe member would remain warm during his journey. This ceremony had her thinking about Meda. She would have to visit the buried remains of her friend, and would remember to bring a second blanket with her. It was the least that she could do since Sakari had no possessions of her own just yet. Traditions had to be upheld though.

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#325
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#6
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(327)


Claudius had always been described as ‘quiet’, ‘solemn’, and ‘reserved’; but today, these traits were even more apparent. He had not been the one to discover the body, but he had come to say goodbye upon hearing the news. They were a bit farther north, farther from where they bade farewell to an empty boat for Noir. That had only been five days ago, and even though he was still reeling from the pain of having to say goodbye to his sister for a second time, he thought it would be selfish to say farewell to Noir, but not to Theodoric. Claudius recognized the name and knew that his mother had known him. So, he came to represent himself and his mother, who could not be here. He hoped that one day she would return to AniWaya after she realized it was her home. He just wished she could have been here to say goodbye.


Claudius had his head bowed as he pondered these thoughts. He recalled that Theodoric had been the only remaining Gatlvska aside from himself. Hemming’s departure and now Theodoric’s death meant he was the only craftsman remaining. He wished Theodoric had not died – he had so much he wanted to learn from the wolf now that he was beginning to meet other tribesmembers. Why had it happened? It was so sad; Theodoric had been a very nice wolf. He had not deserved to die.

Claudius perked up his ears when he heard his fellow tribemembers speaking. They all used the words of the tribe, ones he had come to recognize as a Cherokee language, but had never spoken fluently. When it came to Claudius’ turn to speak, he tried, but feared he would make a fool of himself.


“W-w-wa… k-ken ta… tan… t-t-tan k-kan n… n-n… nic…i… u-un,” he stammered. By the end, his voice had quieted down to a whisper, sorely embarrassed he could not even utter a prayer for a friend.

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#7
Blackfoot had not known this wolf on a close personal level, which was regrettable as when she has seen him in his prime he had been trotting through the village with a bounce in each step. It always brought her a smile to see him looking so jolly and well, when passing him past the huts in the dim evening light he would always nod her a friendly greeting and a 'Good evening' and she would reply with a 'A very good evening to you sir' followed by a wide grin. She thought the news wouldn't hit her hard, but now at his funeral seeing him resting in his floating casket; his face relaxed and peaceful his mouth tweaked into a small simper, she couldn't stop a few tears rolling down her muzzle. She remembered the times when she sat by his side whilst he worked -he worked magic with the threads and tapestries- talking over their personal issues, he gave her his advice and along with it a beautiful red neckerchief that he had made during the chats. He taught her to make one herself, it wasn't nearly as beautifully crafted as his was but he said it was a 'Wow, what a good job for a four legged form, it's beautiful through my eyes Blackfoot' That heart warming monologue repeated in her head.
It was an extremely tragic loss. He was the first tribes member to talk to her and settle her nerves only a month or so ago and he meant a lot to her, he didn't really know how much because she never explained. She was going to miss his presence around the village. What did he do to deserve this?

She rose to her feet at her time and stood over the river coffin. She gently lowered her neck down and slipped the shakily made neckerchief as best she could around his neck -it ended up draping over his shoulder and across his chest but it didn't matter- and whispered her words of prayer and superstition into his neglecting ears.
"Wakan tankan nici un." she uttered weakly as her voice broke its soprano mid sentence. She stood back near the others and sighed and let the last tears fall. 'Good luck my friend, we'll meet again' she thought.
#8
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OOC here!


A death in the pack was always hard, but especially now. Everybody had thought the snow had done its damage but this was something else.The building that had fallen were easily rebuilt, but even those who didn't know his closely felt something missing.


There was an air of depression around the packlands and when J'adore arrived he was hit particularly hard by the urge to cry. He didn't though, he let his tail flick nervously as he moved closer. J'adore chose his spot, next to Sakari.


The Spaniard's hand was clasped around a woven orb. Granted it was not as skilled as what the weaver did, but it was a sign of respect. Inside was a pair of owl feathers he had found hear the stables and a purple flower. His legs moved him forward and he placed his offering down.


'Que el Gran Espíritu caminar contigo' J'adore said, his voice was louder than a whisper. It was the same prayer that the others had utter but in J'adore's home tongue. His translation of the prayer shared the packs tradition with a piece of J'adore's own. He moved back to his spot beside Sakari and Dawali before bowing his head and closing his eyes


The Otlvna Gata prayed for the fallen man, non verbally, wishing him the very best in the afterlife.


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