at a crossroads
#1
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307 words


Normally Skoll was a good, obedient boy. He did his best to follow his caretaker’s orders and would ease their natural worries by staying in sight and not wandering off. Of course, he did forget sometimes when something interesting grabbed his attention, and now that his body was getting a little bigger and his mind sharper and more curious, those lapses became longer and more frequent. He would wander away from the familiar landmarks of Cour des Miracles territory to investigate the coast or the hills or the forest’s edge as he was doing now.

While there were trees within the territory, the small Prince hadn’t seen so many as this, and so close together. The branches crisscrossed in the sky, leaving Xs on the ground that he pounced on, his golden body framed by shadows. He rolled around in the snow and the dead leaves underneath, tumbling against the root of a dead, hollowed-out oak tree and kicking his hind paws against its trunk. The resulting drumming sound echoed through the woods, and it was then that he realized just how quiet this place was.

He flipped over on his white tummy and perked up his ears, a little more uncertain than he’d been when he first found the tree line. There seemed to be nothing here at the border to the neutral territory, and yet, even in his curious and adventurous mind, he knew that venturing further would be too dangerous for a kid like him.

Sighing, Skoll wiggled forward and dropped his pale muzzle into the snow. All of this traveling seemed to be for nothing. He could only lay and listen for the sound of the last birds chirping in the barren trees, his white-dusted golden coat shining under the sunlight that filtered through what had been a great canopy in the summer.

Image courtesy of blmiers@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#2
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OOC Noisy Erzulie is noisy.

The girl carried everything random and nonsensical in the whole universe. A few days ago she decided she wanted to go out on a sales mission since, after all, her pack was a mercantile group. But she had had no experience with selling, and rather than waiting for a day that the caravan was to go out (which probably wouldn’t be for a long time now thanks to the snow) she decided she would go on her own. Her own father, the coy-wolf man named Bangle, had so many stories about wandering and selling his wares. She loved her daddy and wanted to have her own tales to tell, too.

So just a few evenings prior she gathered up all the things she thought other people would want; which were probably very far off from what anybody would want. Chicken bones, feathers, sticks, interesting looking rocks, and a few other pouches and things pilfered from her father’s stores, and set out from Cercatori d’Arte.

She had heard of the band of misfits to the east, a place they called Cour des Miracles – one of her own playmate’s mothers came from there and was said to visit often. Who better to want things like voodoo dolls and séance supplies than a band of ragtag misfits? So she traced the unsteady path to the coastal pack, and by some strange stroke of fate actually managed to get herself there.

Now she trampled loudly through the snowy forest, her wares clanking and clattering all about her body. The iridescent purple drape she wore rustled along with her; it covered some of her chubby stomach and fell down around her legs. And she sang to herself, more a tuneless hum than anything, but she was in high spirits. She could smell the pack and knew that she was close.

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#3
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400 words; Sometimes I fear the child will spontaneously combust.


An onslaught of sounds drew the boy’s head up from his paws, and his rosy ears twitched as he turned his head wildly from side to side. Someone was coming this way! He hopped onto all fours, a conflict brewing within. The only outsider he met was the AniWayan lady, and that had been with his mother. Should he go find a grownup to let them know someone was coming? Was a prince supposed to let others take care of business?

He didn’t quite know what a prince would do, but he knew that Daddy would meet this stranger confidently, his big doggish head held high. And so Skoll turned with his golden tail curled over his back, paws splayed as he stood before Court lands with nose chin comically upward.

Of course, any semblance of dignity he carried vanished when he actually saw who was coming. It was a funny-looking young lady—and she had so much stuff with her! All kinds of knickknacks hung from her, contributing to much of the noise she was making. His bottom jaw dropped then met the upper again in a broad, childish grin of excitement.

“Heyyyy! Who’re you, lady?! Whatcha got, whatcha got?” Skoll scampered toward her, slipping on the wet leaves hidden underneath the snow, but he didn’t manage to completely lose his balance and fall down like usual. Tail wagging, he proceeded to dance around the strange lady—though he couldn’t quite put his paw on why she was so strange, exactly. It wasn’t because she was an outsider, this time, though her scent made his tail wriggle even faster behind him. Despite her being oh so new and interesting and possessor of tons of fun stuff, though, there was something else—

His eyes grew large, and he plopped down in front of her; if she hadn’t already stopped at the sight of him, she would have to now or risk tripping over the cub. “Are you a ghost?” Skoll gasped. She didn’t look quite as silly as wispy Caspa did—at least in her body shape. She looked wolfish enough if with odd frazzled dark hair, but maybe her weirdness was because she was a spirit!

The boy blinked then, realizing that he must be acting rude somehow—though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what to do to remedy the situation. Instead, he supplied a safe, “Please and thank you.”

Image courtesy of blmiers@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#4
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OOC lmfao OMG he is so cute… ^_^

The jaunty skip to her step increased as she drew closer to the land of miracles. Her ears perked behind the colorful bandana that she wore to hold down some of her frizzy ‘fro. This was it! Her first time selling… And what was out there? Why, her very own first customer, of course! Her sunburst eyes caught sight of the sandy canine that stood so far away. A smile dominated her muzzle and she shifted course to walk towards him. Oh, what would he buy? Riches abound!

As she neared she noticed he wasn’t quite as far away as she first thought, and when the Court boy picked up speed and skittered over to her she was a little dismayed to see that he wasn’t a far-off Miracle man, he was just some puppy. Her eyes watched him as he ran over to her, seeing his wet paws slide among the snow and leaves. Her face fell for just a moment as she stared down at him, trying not to look as disappointed as she felt.

Well, a customer is a customer. Daddy would never let this stop him! She put the smile back on her face and tried to act as if she had never made the error. She grinned down at the boy, the mixture of coyote in her blood showing in that smirk. At least he seemed awfully glad to see her.

“I ain’t no ghost, pup. There ain’t no ghosts, only spirits. You be careful ta remember that now or ya risk angerin’ the spirits.” She waggled a finger at him along with the warning, the claw on the end of her digit was painted magenta. She nodded to seal the truth in her words and then shifted to take the pack from over her shoulder.

“An’ ain’t it your lucky day? I got wares here ta keep the spirits happy with ya!” Her grin widened as she opened the bag. Despite being here as a saleswoman she wasn’t looking to prey on the puppy at all. What she said, to her, was the utmost truth. “Ya havin’ any bad luck lately boy? I can fix ya up with a good luck potion. What e’er yer soul needs, I got yer cure!”

She grabbed the bottom of the pack and let the items spill everywhere. Unsorted bones from various poultry and prey animals scattered the ground. Rocks that appeared to have no particularly special properties, jars of dully colored powder, and jars of colored liquid, scraps of fur and skins, and even feathers were among some of her very odd wares.

“What’s yer name child? I’m Erzulie, an’ I bring you items from Legba himself.”

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#5
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309 words


The pale young woman grinned at him; in his excitement, he hadn’t even noticed any of the disappointment that might have passed across her face. He was excited to meet this new stranger and did his best to sniff as hard as he could so he might be able to remember her scent later. She had traveled for a while, he could smell that, and she had traveled from another pack. Not AniWaya, he didn’t think, though he could hardly remember what the brown lady from there had smelled like; he’d been too worked up then.

Waggling a painted nail at him, the purple-draped lady informed him that there were no ghosts. His head cocked in sheer confusion at this new piece of information, though angering spirits didn’t sound like a good thing; he might as well be sure about it. “Whas the diff’rence?” Skoll questioned, hoping that the spirits could forgive his ignorance. He’d always seen them all as the same thing—ghosts and ghouls, spirits and specters.

His eyes widened again; her wares spilled from the bag as her advertisements spilled from her jaws. He found himself unable to focus on what she said, however, as he was too busy stepping forward and nosing around at some of the chicken bones and pretty smooth pebbles and weird things that a puppy like him had never even dreamed of seeing.

“Skoll Haskel,” the boy chirped as she asked her name. He paused a moment before adding, sitting as regally as he could, “Prince Skoll Haskel, son of th’King!” That was a very important detail to him. Being the kid of a pack leader gave him some perks and protection within Court lands, at least, though he’d yet to brag about this to other strangers. Reaching out to roll a small jar under his paw, he questioned, “Who Legba?”

Image courtesy of blmiers@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#6
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“Sayin’ there’s ghosts is like sayin’ Papa Legba isn’t keeping a clean house,” she said smoothly as she shifted, moving from her kneeling position to sit on the ground. “He wouldn’t like you sayin’ a thing like that. Spirits are the keepers of the world, they take care o’ us. Papa Legba takes the ghosts through the gate to the next world.” She laughed softly, assuming the conclusions he could be making. “But don’t worry, I’m guessing nobody ever taught ya that so Legba will understand. He won’t hold that one against you.”

She watched with delight as he nosed and sniffed at her bounty, hoping he would like what he saw. Even if he was a puppy there was still a chance at making a trade. Things children liked often had an innate power beyond normal things, and they could make some wonderful offerings for the lwa. Or more merchandise…

But the next thing the boy said really pleased her. Her eyes widened when he said his name and then stated his title. “Ooh, a prince are ya?” Her moonish grin widened. “Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Skoll Haskel.” She held out her hand for a friendly paw shake.

No one was ever really interested in Legba before. She was beginning to suspect her own pack, Cercatori d’Arte, believed him to be a figment of a wild imagination. He wasn’t though! And she so wished he would show himself to the others just once so they would believe her. Either way, it pleased her to no end when the boy inquired about Legba. She had already told him some, but there was always more… “Legba is the lwa – the spirit – of the crossroads. He is the Gatekeeper. If you’re in Papa Legba’s good favor he will open doorways for you that will lead to your every desire.” She waved her hand and looked off as though seeing some treasure far away. “But if you cross him, oh ho ho, you’ll be sorry.” She shook her head gravely, not expanding upon the thought any further.

Her eyes turned back to the pup and the smirk returned to her muzzle. She glanced at the jar he pawed at. “Ya like that color there?” She nodded toward the pigment in the jar. “Tell ya what, I’ll draw ya Papa Legba’s veve and ask him to bless you. No charge for Prince Skoll! Ya just remember the favor Legba and I did for you today and remember to pay attention when the roads clear for ya. Papa Legba opens the door for you to meet all the other lwa, too. Only good things can come from knowing the lwa. I’m well on my way m’self.”


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#7
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370 words


The mysterious woman continued to allude to the mysterious Papa Legba, and Skoll nodded slowly as he began to comprehend what she was talking about. Spirits were good and ghosts belonged in the next world; it was all a little above the puppy’s head, but religious and other beliefs were slowly swimming around in his mind, where they may eventually take root. His nodding pace quickened when she laughed at him, and he was relieved to know that he wouldn’t be in trouble for making assumptions about ghosts from now on.

He giggled again as she gushed over his title, and he placed his small paw in her hand with tail wagging. “Nice meetcha too, ’Zulie!” he returned graciously, like a prince should.

And his rosy ears stood at full attention as she described Legba to him, explaining that he was a Gatekeeper—of what gates, the boy didn’t really know, but he figured a spirit kept some important gates. Imagining a fatherly spirit opening doors for him made him grin, not quite grasping the metaphors—but being led to his desires was a good thing. Maybe Legba could open a door to summer and fairies, or to him being all grown up and strong!

Her grave warning made his ears lower, though, and his eyes widened slightly. He shook his head as to dispel the thought of ever crossing Legba. “No, I’m a good boy,” Skoll assured her, without the realization that he wasn’t being so good by running all the way out here unaccompanied. But he was here with this lady, so that was okay, right?

Erzulie pointed out the jar and offered to draw a veve on him, and while he didn’t really know what that was, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, like-a color,” the golden boy said, rolling the jar some more under his paw and grinning at her words. “I pay attention! Make Legba good favor an’ meet lwa. How many ’Zulie know?” He wondered what all the other lwa did, though he was too excited about being drawn on and blessed to ask her about them. Wiggling with excitement, he gave the jar one last push toward her and tried to suppress his impatience.


Image courtesy of blmiers@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#8
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Hey! I hope you still want to continue this thread. I’m sorry for the long delay; I had a massive computer dummy moment.

He was so excited and energetic to hear what she had to say. His willingness to listen to her stories was refreshing. People didn’t usually want to listen to her go on about the lwa because they were all so stuck in their own beliefs. How could they not see the plain truth?

“You are a good boy,” she praised him as she patted him on the head, a gesture that always annoyed her when she was a puppy – but now she saw the draw in it. He gave the jar a push and it rolled over to her, coming to a wobbly stop before her as the fluid inside remained turbulent. She grasped the jar and righted it, grinded it against the ground to make a good spot for it, and then unscrewed the top.

“This is a good color, too,” she told the excited boy as she casually dipped a finger into the paint and held it up, a chubby drip snaking down the pad of her finger. She made a motion with her other hand for him to come closer, but when she tried to put her finger to the canvas she found a wiggly surface. “Hold still now, or it won’t come out right.” She cautioned, and then poked her finger into the fur at the top of his ribs, drawing a line down. The prodding fingers could be a ticklish pup’s nightmare.

She paused frequently to dip her finger into the jar and get more of the blue paint, his fur soaking up her pigment quickly. As she worked she told him, “You do pay attention, and Legba appreciates it. He already likes you, he has already picked ya because I am a friend of Legba, and he made our paths meet. That means he wanted you to know about him, too. There are many lwa, more than I know, and Legba likes his secrets so he has not told me all. I will learn their names when I meet them… which Legba says will be soon.” She was getting tired of him saying ‘soon’, she wanted to know them now but there was no way she could tell that to Legba for fear he would take offense that he was not good enough for her.

“New visions of other veves have come to me, though, and they give me a feelin’ so I think I know which ones they are for, but I’ll only really know when they come to me. Ah! Almost done…” Her finger swirled around his ribs as she drew a curve, Papa Legba’s veve was almost complete.

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#9
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sswm 487


A child was a blank slate. Children could be strongly conditioned at a young age to follow one set of beliefs and reject all others, planting the seeds of pride in their own religion or prejudice toward others’, but that was not the way with Skoll. While he had heard the legends and prayers of his mother, he had been open-minded to every other story he heard told in his pack. The Court of Miracles was founded as a place for misfits, a mishmash of wolves and dogs who didn’t belong anywhere else. Even though it might not be the same as it had been at its inception, its characters were still assorted, and the boy found himself eager to learn all he could about the different lore. Perhaps his yearning for knowledge would manifest in a literary young man at a later age, but for now his excitement sparked in his green eyes and danced up his wagging tail, as eager as any puppy could be.

A magenta-nailed hand patted him on the head, and Skoll grinned at the praise. He responded best to it, often wriggling and beaming as if he were going to burst with delight. Always striving to prove himself in one way or another, he was happier than most children when he realized he’d attained whatever image he had strove to create for himself.

Erzulie motioned for him to come near after unscrewing the lid, but the boy could scarcely contain himself. Blue dropped onto his blonde pelt as she reached out for him, urging him to hold still though he had to bite his tongue to do so, suppressing his giggles at being poked and jabbed in his ribcage. Slowly, however, with the patience of the painter and the effort of the canvas, the veve began to take shape on the pale golden pelt.

The young Haskel was glad to be picked out by Papa Legba; it made him feel special and really smart, smarter even than his sister Charlotte. His small sister had a quick mind, but would she know anything about the lwa? He grinned devilishly at the thought of teaching her and Hati, taking his mind off the ticklish sensation so the d’Artisan could make progress on her drawing.

“So you see veves an’ then lwas?” Skoll asked, trying to wrap his mind around her strange explanation. He wondered if he could see spirits too, like the fairies that Caspa had taught him did not exist. He wondered what his not-half-a-ghost friend would think about what Erzulie’s claims then decided that he wouldn’t bother the wispy dog with it.

Her last statement and the swirl of her fingers made the boy gasp. “I wanna see when done!” he barked, jumping a little before realizing that he would be jarring her. He crouched sheepishly, resolving to keep more still from now on as his pale coat absorbed the paint.

Image courtesy of blmiers@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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