[AW+] roots spread all the way back to godless times
#1
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Word Count → ??? :: Non-mandatory pack thread - Ondine's funeral. All Family members encouraged to show up and mourn, whether genuinely or not; Due to Ondine's high status this is an important political event, supporting increased contention between Believers and Non-believers (and supporters of Elphaba's rule/dissenters). Set at the Stone Ship, dusk. Funeral attendees are encouraged to bring items of relevance or significance (things Ondine has given them, or things of value) to throw into the pyre as offerings to the dead. Non-attendance may be seen as a slight against the noble Heiwa family, and will probably be remembered.
Please allow Gen, Mel and Raze to post first. No set posting order after that.





Sharp mournful cries of seabirds, still confused by the closing of the loch, arched overhead in flurries of white and grey. The sky was deepening now, vivid shocking blue of another sweltering summer day bruising slowly into purples and the heavier tones of dusk. In an hour or more, nighttime would settle upon the basking Ruins of Salsola, cloaking all in the comforting stillness of shadow.


High on the bluff, a low wind teased the young queen's long dark hair. She turned her face to the choppy grey water. At her back, the grieving mother continued to fuss with the lapel of the black gown she'd chosen to stuff with straw in place of her daughter's missing body. Ondine's flesh belonged to the Deep now; They'd had to make do.


The straw manikin was a frightful looking thing, with crude painted stones in the place of eyes, and strands of hair pulled from the dead woman's comb woven in through the course fiber of the faux head. Isabella had expended no lack of effort in the making of the supplicant doll, but its abstractness set Elphaba's stomach to churning, and so she did not watch as the old woman continued to mutter and fret over it.


Krios stood near his grandmother, but unlike the Heiwa matriarch he made no noise at all. Sometimes the young queen felt his red-rimmed eyes rest upon her, but she did not meet his gaze.


O'Riley arrived with Loki in tow, presumably having escorted the Crone up from the lowlands. Relief colored her cheeks at the sight of him. This was a grim business, one made easier by the knowledge that her pillars remained strong, and that those who contested her would have to deal with her cousin's ill-concealed contempt. As the Crone settled in beside Isabella to prep the rites, Elphaba held her hand out toward O'Riley in invitation, and rested it lightly on his arm when he came to stand at her side.


With the wind at her back, the witch canted her lips and sent a sweet summoning cry heavenward.


Soon the people began to arrive. Delfina's lateness was notable as she appeared, a malevolent and beautiful sorceress, in their midst - most remarkably her eyes were quite dry, too canny by half as they roved over the assorted procession. Elphaba watched the woman carefully, lashes lowered in shrewd consideration.


She would speak soon, when the Family had gathered in enough numbers to hide the tall stones of the ship among them like passengers. Until then she waited, flint in hand, ready to strike the necessary spark to set the pyre, the fake body - and the memory of the Seer - alight.

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#2
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422


Ever since Kamari came to him in the night to tell him the news, something had been skewed to the side within the Apprentice. Something had slid out of alignment, leaving him to cope with a feeling of distinct emptiness and confusion. There was a word for it, likely as not, but it was not one he knew intimately in the past. One day, he would know it as grief and mourning, but he felt only pain fit the bill.

His grandmother had gone into overdrive for the funeral. She was the one who put out the dress, the favorite trinkets - though the necklace that had been around her neck was gone with her body - and adorned a straw mannequin with the trappings of identity. But it was not his mother. No. It was a false creature that held no breath in it, never had. It would have been different if there was a body to burn properly, but Isabella insisted they at least try to do the right thing.

He had watched her weave herbs - fragrant and strong - between the straw and laid a bouquet of her youngest daughter's favorite blooms over the torso. He continued to feel nothing as the aged woman fussed over the placement of this blossom or that lock of false hair. He felt nothing. This was not his mother. She was gone.

There seemed to be no one to mourn for his step-father, but it did not surprise him. The man was poorly known, an anomaly at best.

There was discomfort in the Boss's eyes, refusing to meet his glances or even look to the false-Seer that lay ready for the burning.

His eyes shut when he heard the woman's cry for the Kingdom to meet. They should have just mourned her quietly, like she would have liked, but the pomp was demanded for by the Boss and the mother who lost a child to a stranger. Delfina, oddly enough, was no where to be found. She seemed disinterested in the whole ordeal and purposefully told them both that morning that it was not a place for her and that the whole thing was a celebration of mockery.

But then, Delfina had never really cared, had she?

He looked on as they assembled. His red eyes betrayed the sorrow in his heart that ate at him slowly, chewing on the cud of his soul. Then, he looked for Kamari, hoping for her reassuring gaze, a comfort in the darkness that threatened.

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#3
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It was miserable business, funerals. O'Riley knew enough of ritual to understand its purpose, and these displays were not entirely for the dead. People needed to mourn. Doing it all at once opened things up, and as a unit they could better withstand the waves of grief that would come endlessly.

At least, those who were touched by the death would.

In his own heart, O'Riley did not feel sadness or meloncholy, or even question his own life's existence. He had already moved beyond this, looking ahead to what came next.

Tact was important, though. Oma had always taught them how to behave, how to look, like she had been grooming them for these things long before they knew. Maybe she had – Salsola had become something of Salvia's design, and even without her here, O'Riley felt the old woman's presence.

He gathered the Crone under the basis of seeing what more help might be provided, found little to do, and so accompanied their spiritual leader back to the place where the others waited. It was a brisk, quiet walk – Loki seemed to be deep in thought, and O'Riley had nothing he felt like talking about.

Tall in his Optime form, O'Riley positioned himself close to Elphaba and waited.


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Ordinary morality is only for ordinary people.
#4
It was not a funeral he thought he would have to perform.

The shock of the death had touched them all, and the Crone felt the loss of a trusted friend as terribly as he did a hollow place in his ranks. He did not bother to hide his grief for this reason, but instead wrapped himself in it -- honesty and dishonesty woven together so that he might show his genuine sorrow, but more mystic for it. His hair was let down, much longer than it once was, and he wore dark fabrics beneath the pale cloak.

He had high hopes for the coven when he first donned that cloak, aspiring witches gathered around him, but now Loki was alone in his Faction. Perhaps it was an omen; doubtless the pack would feel that way. He could only hope that the rifts did not deepen within the pack, and that the nonbelievers did not seize on their weakness.

He stopped when he reached the pyre, and he stepped closer to Isabella, murmuring that he was sorry for her loss. The way the mother fussed over the doll made him ache, too, but he rested a slender hand lightly on its head, staring at the woven hair. He pulled a bundle of herbs from under his cloak to spread around the doll, though it represented something mundane rather than spiritual -- a small pouch of dried plants meant for tea, a gift from a friend.

As he sprinkled this, his movements more confident and relaxed than he felt, he looked out into the gathering crowd. His eyes were drawn to Embla clutching her fox in her arms, her face downturned -- but when she saw him, she offered something of a smile. A pang went through him.

When he was finished, he came near Elphaba too, straightening. He would let their Queen speak first, to lead the ceremony and set a tone for their ranks. He almost did not trust himself to open his mouth at all.
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#5
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Optime
(+482)


Kamari brought her attempt at potato cakes in a bag for her offering.


Word had finally gotten out, and preparations had been made to give Ondine a proper funeral. In the time after she had revealed the terrible news to her betrothed, Krios had been, understandably, different. He was grieving for an important figure in his life, after all. Kamari had done her best to support him and make things easier on him, however, there was only so much she could do, and there was nothing she had for the pain he felt with his mother’s passing.


A body had never been found—Ondine nor her husband-supposed-murderer, Janik—and an effigy had been made it its place. Delfina’s behavior and the whole story she had told Kamari still didn’t sit well with the Emissary. In the wake of the Seer’s death though, the jackal hybrid was wise to keep her concerns to herself. She had no evidence, and had yet to make her way out to the supposed site herself in her time supporting Krios in his time of need. So, she’d kept her thoughts tucked away for now.


When she arrived to the Stone Ship, the Shadow appeared to be among the first initial few to arrive. She stood towards the front—where she had a clear view of her grieving betrothed and friend—and off to the side. Kamari had donned one of her lighter cloaks due to the season. She still had a relatively small wardrobe, and none of what she had—besides one of her dark cloaks—felt appropriate for a pack gathering that was meant to mourn a significant member of their Kingdom. Her hood was pulled up, and her arms were drawn in beneath the figure-distorting folds of the cloak, holding her offering to honor Ondine’s memory close to her person.


While Krios had been with his grandmother preparing for things, Kamari had done her best attempt at making a few potato cakes with the help of Corrine. She’d wrapped them into a makeshift bag of one of her finer mink pelts. The offering, she knew, might be something the highborns would judge her for, but, to Kamari, the rather simple offering held great significance to her. Ondine had acted like a second mother to her; kind, warm, welcoming, and had cooked her food and sent little treats with Krios from time to time. It was a memory and gesture that Kamari would not soon forget.


Her cornflower blue eyes wandered over those that gradually gathered before they finally found their way to Krios. The Revlis son was staring at her with a look she had seen often in recent times. They shared eye contact for a moment, a breath, a beat, enough that she could wordlessly let him know that she was there for him as his friend, before her gaze was drawn away as the ceremony proceeded.






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Kamari Kaiser
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Avatar art by Alaine · Sig art by Despi
#6
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Come gather around the fire, I'll tell you all a tale
Word Count →1056 :: OOC: This will be fun. PP of Sebastien was approved of by Ketsu.


This night had been very quiet, even in the depths of the Blackwoods. The spirits who had often communicated with Coaxoch had settled down, with only the wind whispering at his coyote-like ears. It was Dirge who had come to him and Sebastien with the news of the death of the Seer. Dirge's face was cold as he delivered the news, for it had been obvious how they all had felt about Ondine and her family. They all had outcasted them, cursed them, and avoided them because of the birth of the Red Witch's bastard, of Dirge. Dirge often blamed himself for the curse that was said to be on the Ulrich family, and there had been once or twice that Caoxoch himself had to prevent Dirge from abandoning them,of leaving the family behind to start a new life outside of Salsola. Coaxoch had put his hand on the man's shoulder, and he gave the male a smile. Look, at least it is proven now that you are no curse. They are those whom shall be ruined. Who have had lives taken from them in their prime. he told the other with ease as he looked into the coral eyes of the other. Coaxoch had only know Lillith for a small amount of time before she had passed away, but god did it look like he was peering into the face of the Red Witch herself. It always had been like this, and while it had given him a sadness, Dirge had been more than enough of a wonderful brother that Coaxoch did not regret that Till and Lillith had sacrificed so much for the birth of the male.

"The funeral is for tonight. Mother Calla asked that we attend to pay our respects. " Dirge mentioned on and Coaxoch let a stifled laugh pass his throat.

Our presence will mock them. Isabella will mock us. But if it is what mother wants, I will obey. Though, I hope Father does not...do anything stupid. Coaxoch reaffirmed as he looked to his companion, Sebastien and nodded. Dirge, you can arrive with me and Sebastien. It will look good to be with us. he told his brother as he smiled back at him. Dirge had a depressed look on his maw and he shook his head sadly.

"Mother Helena seemed set on doing my hair all special and such. I will at least go get ready with her, and meet you at the Old Wall. Okay?" asked Dirge, who was replied to by Coaxoch with a quick nod of his head.

Coax felt lucky that Helena and Calla did not fawn over him, mostly because he was the eldest of the siblings, and he was the most independent despite his disability. Coaxoch looked back to Sebastien and smiled to him. I guess I never explained what that is all about hm? He asked Sebastien as he moved closer to the rust colored male. Not so long ago, my Father and one of the Matriarchs of the Heiwa clan had made a deal. Coaxoch started to explain, looking Sebastien in his Rose Quartz eyes with a smile that did not fade. Her name was Lillith. She was called The Red Witch. he continued to speak as he stepped closer and put his arm on the smaller male's shoulder, and remained close to him. He pulled the other in a soft hug and he turned his face to speak into his soft ears.

Till and Lillith made a contract in blood, and so they united as one to create a son to replace my brother whom had been taken from me so dreadfully early. his tone lowered, the happiness leaving his down here and smile finally fading. It was when this son was born that things took the turn for the worst. Lillith had given birth, and died shortly thereafter, though it was rumored that she told Till to name the boy something very specific. he almost whispered their words to Sebastien, as they had been so close, there had been little need to talk loud. Dirge, the name rolled from his with ease, and suspense. He suddenly pulled away from Sebastien to see his face, and his smile returned then. They have shown us no kindness, the Heiwas, only malice since then. They disowned Dirge, even though he is blood to them. They scorn our name. he told Sebastien. Because of this, it's hard to tell if it's a sign of respect, or a sign if disrespect for us to even show our faces. But, our mother, Calla, is directly related to them too by blood, so we should go to support her, if anything. Coaxoch spoke further as he turned to get dressed in his same suit that he had always worn on such occasions.


Coaxoch and Sebastien got their best clothing on and Coaxoch struggled to think of something he could give to the Hiewas as condolences, but ultimately decided to show up with nothing in tow. They did not offer him and his family kindness, and they even ostracized their own blood two times fold, they did not deserve kindness back from any of the Ulrich clan. Coaxoch led Sebastien off towards the Old Wall, where they had picked up Dirge and they then went West towards the Stone Ship, where the funeral was being held.

They had not been the first of the commoners to arrive, but they were early enough to be seen among the group easily because of not only their fiery coats, but also because of the fact that there were simply not many there. Coaxoch's hands were empty, though it seemed as though Dirge had something to offer up to the corpse. Coaxoch eyed the gift several times on their journey over, but the shaman always did love surprises, and so he did not ask what he brought. He only looked at Dirge's gift and smiled at his brother, and did not let his smile fade as he looked from Dirge, to Isabella, and then to Elphaba and her bright red rubies that glowed against her pale mask.

It was easy to tell who Coaxoch was the son of in this moment. The Cheshire Cat-like grin made sure of this.


The day she came to power our lives forever changed

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(ಥ﹏ಥ)
#7
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Calla is accompanied by Chester. Both carry gifts; Calla's oils and dried herbs, Chester's a shawl of rabbit and fox fur/pelts.

Calla's desire to mend the fences within her family and Ondine's had been strong before she had learned the news of her cousin's death, right after both had made an agreement to work on the ambivalence her family had shared with Ondine's in regards to her marriage to Till and Helena.

Sadness, grief, and regret replaced angst and fear of reprehension and as any member of the family, of Salsola, should have done, she had made her attempt at gathering family so that they saw to Ondine's death in a way that suited someone of such esteemed rank and as members of not only the Silevue and Heiwa families but as members of the Valentine who had gained as much from the Seer and her mother as she had from anyone else within the pack.

Her clothes were dark, black stained in an attempt at displaying her grief for the family. In her arms, she carried a heavy basket filled not just with dried herbs but also oils crafted with the knowledge that Ondine had passed onto her. It was a significant offering, in her own mind.

It was not long after the first of her adoptive sons showed up that she did as well, though her steps were much slower than they needed be for fear that her presence would usher a mockery of her stature to Isabella or the remaining Heiwas. She had not stayed behind to help Helena gather her children though had hopes that they would make it soon enough. Instead, Chester had followed her and now stood at her side albeit less dressed for the occasion than she was but with his offering in hand, a simple fur from a recent kill that had been stitched by his mothers in preparation.

Easily seen through the procession, they gathered behind those they knew closely, Calla's sharp blue gaze mirrored by the brighter blue of her first born child's as she sought the eye of the Crone and then followed suit in turning her attentions to the Boss, the witch who had called this group together under the banner of The Seer's death.

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<a href="#!" title="I will roleplay Preybot." class="will-preybot"></a>
<a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a></br>
<a href="#!" class="apparel-accessories" title="Calla typically wears a dark sundress with a pendant of a butterfly"></a>
<a href="#!" class="scent-warning" title="Character disguises their scent with rose oil, flowers and clay."></a>
<a href="#!" class="character-typical-location" title="Character is typically found in Salsola near Millstone Village or in Drifter Bay."></a>
<a href="#!" target="_blank" title="Character speaks French, Spanish and common language, denoted by italics and bold. When they speak English, it is mildly French-accented." class="foreign-language"></a>
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<a href="#!" class="character-note" title="Calla is actively pursuing the Seer Faction rank."></a>
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#8
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Salsola was changing. Brocade stood in the crowd of The Kingdom and listened to the quiet grief that rippled through all their hearts. Symre stood pressed against his leg, her small hands clasped tightly before her as she watched the delegation of noble men and women that brought their gifts toward to the pyre. She sniffled, and Brocade smoothed her braids, adjusting the small box he balanced against his other hip.

His niece had helped him collect the last of the seasons wildflowers and had made a small wreath woven of thistles and blooms. She had complained at first when the little thorns had pricked her fingers but had finished the work without complaint. She had explained quietly as she worked that since joining Salsola so many had either disappeared or died and she had begged Brocade not to let it happen to her.

He sighed as he stood there, watching the line ebb and flow as members all went to pay their respects to the Packs Seer.

His gaze lingered on the pale face of Elphaba Revlis, and a moment longer upon The Crone and The Erilaz who stood alongside her. Their faces were unreadable and silent, drawn taught by the effigy that lay exposed before them. Brocade sought out Krios, his brows furrowed deeply as he looked upon the space where his mother should have been – but instead there was nothing but the crooked limbs of the doll. Brocade made a sound in his throat and looked away – preparing himself for the walk toward the pyre.

He nudged Symre and she stood aside, tugging nervously on her braids as she watched her Uncle go.

He passed Kamari, whos shoulder he gently squeezed, and then stood a moment before what remained of Ondines spirit. He opened the box and took out the blooms, careful to arrange them around the feet. They were bright splashes of colors that he knew would soon burn away – but he whispered quietly in French, thanked her for her healing, for her kindness, and then made to return to his place alongside Symre Rask.

The girl chirruped and then solemnly leaned against his cloak, tucking the edges of it around herself like a blanket as the ceremony began.



>Shy


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#9
[html]

out of character here


Ankh always revealed in the chances he was given to don his finery and preen extensively. In fact, when the call was given he felt nothing but a sense of eagerness to decorate himself instead of the sorrow he should have felt from losing a packmate. He hadn't known Ondine and so her death meant little to him. But he recognised the lofty position she had held within Salsola before her untimely demise and knew better than to not show face.


Narcissa, as her name indicated, was also thrilled to have an opportunity to dress up. While Ankh had chosen his usual attire, loincloth, leopard skin and golden trinkets, his daughter had dug out a dark gown. Its tight bodice was neatly adorned with simple embroidery and it fell to earth until it skirted the ground as she walked. Of course, this creation was not one of Cissa's, it had been the work of the old woman that had taught her what she knew of tailoring.


Both carried sweet-smelling herbs to sacrifice to the fire, though neither of them truly cared enough to present it with any affection. Ankh knew that not bringing something would be seen as an offense and he was naturally eager to keep his nose clean. Once the herbs were offered up and their faux yet convincing sympathies were passed on, the father and daughter pair crept to the edge of the group where familiar faces stood. Calla, Coaxoch, etc.


+000

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#10
The thought of death had become a constant companion for the old warrior. Amongst young and thriving bodies she stood as the living monument of a dying generation. The world had once been hers to conquer but now it were her successors who played in it with the vigour of one who has an entire life waiting ahead. She envied that liberty, resenting the decline of her own vitality and the perturbing ticking of the imaginary clock that kept her awake at night. The fear of her own demise had settled deep within her being, threatening to consume the fragile civility she had built to envelop the wild and dangerous being that lurked beneath her skin.

Life found a strange way to soothe the whirlwind of anxieties her mind had become. The news of Ondine’s passing was met with mixed feelings from Kaeli. She had only just briefly met the young Heiwa witch and held no negative feelings against her person. She would even dare call her a rather tolerable individual for a witch.

Her death brought her neither joy nor grief, but a strange sense of victory settled in after realizing that she had just outlived a younger, quite promising individual. Such a morbid thought accompanied her all the way toward the stone ship where a small crowd had already begun to gather around the unlit pyre.

She hesitated for a moment, testing the weight of the bundle under her arm as her eyes scanned the forms of the gathered mourners, especially the Queen's. Would her presence be appreciated in an event like this? Perhaps not, but she was expected to pay her respects nonetheless. Appearing as solemn as her large frame allowed she approached, dipping her head for the Heiwa Matriarch as she settled her bundle of furs and dried herbs atop the kindle where others had already left their offerings. Hers was quite simplistic, proper of the level of familiarity she had with the deceased. Hopefully the mourning family wouldn’t be too preoccupied by that and chose to accept the gesture as the formality it was.

Mechanically she bowed her head for the Boss and turned away to settle at the outskirts of the gathering where her looming presence wouldn’t get in the way of the cult and their ceremony.
#11
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(363)

The death of the Seer was of little importance to him. But as it were, there were expectations he was meant to uphold, cultural traditions to abide by and feign a glimmer of interest in. His mother made it a point to make sure he understood this, her voice deadpan as they prepared to leave their now-crowded tower. “I don’t expect you to care, but you should act like you do,” she assessed her abandoned collection of can-tahs, storing the prettiest of them away in her bag. Absolution stood by the doorway, eyes cast downwards in the sort of I-have-better-things-to-do boredom he usually wore. Suddenly, something was thrust into his arms; upon closer inspection he saw it to be the wooden statuette of a snake’s head, its edges worn with a few notches.

He looked to his mother with confusion in his eyes. Though she was wrapped in a dark cloak, he could see the form of a wooden doe poking out from underneath. Her eyes were cold and lacking in any form of grief, “You will use this as an offering to be burned, Igelchen, and be respectful, or your endeavors into whatever path you choose will be in vain.” Absolution clicked his tongue indignantly but said nothing to object to his mother’s command. He thought it stupid to give the dead gifts, but if it meant he could further himself in the kingdom without complications, then he would relent.

---

The mother-son pair arrived soon after hearing the dulcet tone. The look of them, dressed in their dark clothes and darker pelts, was solemn and unassuming. They were quiet in their approach, saying nothing as they placed their wooden statues and gathered flowers among the kindling. It must be easy, Absolution thought, for his mother to play the role of a mourning compatriot. She was already so frightfully haunting, the air around her thick and permanently melancholic. He tried to be like her, tried to seem like he was already dead, but in the end he could never compare. Though his acting was far from poor, it was still just that—acting. For his mother, her woeful disposition was her in its entirety.


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#12
Although Jaketta had not known Ondine personally, she'd only been told good things about the now parted Seer. The young goddess felt like she knew her, knew everyone, through her lessons. It would have been a disgrace if she did not show up and mourn for the departed. She was disappointed and deeply saddened she never got to meet the woman, seeing at her position within the pack was one Jaketta strove for.

Draped elegantly in her violet cape, the jackal girl made her way to the Stone Ship with a bundle of flowered nestled delicately in her arms. Throughout the flowers, were sprigs of dried sage meant to aid her spirit in passing if need be. Around the flowers was draped a necklace made of small bones, stained red the blood of a what had been a fresh kill. It was an impersonal gift, but finding a suitable gift for someone you'd never met was a tedious task. She wouldn't allow herself to show up empty handed though and could only hope that this would be sufficient for someone of such esteem.

Jaketta arrive after many others, including The Crone who stood close to Elphaba. Everyone who stood held an expression with some element of remorse. Blood and gold eyes scanned her surroundings as she began walking towards the straw figure that represented Ondine and all that remained of her. She held her head low, ears pressed back, nose wrinkled in anguish. Her head tipped gracefully to anyone who's eyes met hers. When she reached the figure, she gazed at it for several moments with acute sorrow. She thought how frightful the woman must have been as she fell from the cliff to the searing cold waters below. She thought about how much those here missed her, and it was enough to provoke tears that remained cradled on her lower lid.

After a sharp inhale, Jakie knelt before figure and placed her bouquet at Ondine's feet. Her held dipped and she whispered a prayer before rising to turn to Elphaba. She offered her a short bow before joining the others surrounding the carefully made figure. She hoped her display would be enough to please The Boss and all who missed Ondine, enough to be noticed.
#13
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Helena Troy Lykoi

ooc


The pregnant woman did her best with the children, arranging their hair and their clothing amidst the pains in her back. Dirge dropped himself by and Helena did regret saying she'd do the fancy braids for his hair too. Till was taken care of at least, she didn't have to fret about him making a scene and disgracing their family. She was well aware of the animosity and now was not the time to display such things. She knew Calla was broken up about the death of her cousin.

Finally she ushered the bickering Stelmaria and Mekhl and with a sharp voice, silenced them. Each of her children carried a small, appropriate gift of a thorny thistle wreathe. They had been too young to interact with Ondine but Helena had quite a few dealings with the Seer. From their gardens Helena had cut down a great swathe of flowering mint. This is what she would always associate with Ondine, their last conversation.

Helena was grieved for Salsola, and she was supporting of her wife, and there was even a tinge of the twisting sadness that a friendship that possibly could have been would now never blossom.

There were many others here at the stone ship when the trio finally reached it. Helena and her children laid their gifts on the strange looking effigy, bowed and curtseyed as was their due to the leaderships and went to join their family. Helena's arm slipped about Calla's waist and she squeezed tightly.




Feel the heat of my breath
Hear the furnace in my chest


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#14
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Though he paced about his home as if involved with preparations, his mind had been emptied and his tasks cleared. For hours he paced—from the clinic bed to the chair in his study, to the garden and broken cabinets—with great intent but little purpose. He did not speak, and he did not think. He found and dressed in his finest yet without conscious observation, and he made his way to his sister’s funeral alone.


He arrived before most others, early enough to watch his mother fuss over the grassy doll that would serve as his missing sister’s substitute. How macabre it was, forever breathless, without memories, without dreams, dressed up in Ondine’s clothing. An intensity and stiffness about his poise and movements, Neith watched without comment and without any intention to assist his mother, who prepared for the funeral with all the grace of a fraying rope.


Its eyes, unblinking and painted rocks, would be stuck behind his eyelids for months.


Flaws in the proper poise of the good doctor showed through the constant turning of his ears, the twitch in his tail, though what the doctor’s thoughts were he did not wear on his sleeve. A thinly stifled resentment was clear. The once gentle man met the eyes of the funeral’s attendants without hesitation and with great contempt, remembering their faces, reading their movements, tracking their names.


He would remember this. He took his place near to his nephew, realized Delfina was not among them, and his eyes visibly distanced as the day's worth of silent and bitter thoughts caught up with him.

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<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Amatic+SC" rel="stylesheet"><table class="neithsignature" id="neith" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tr><td rowspan="4"></td><td class="name">whose eyes you gonna use?</td></tr> <tr><td class="links"><a target="_blank" href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.NeithHeiwa">Character Wiki</a> &middot; <a href="http://imgur.com/a/qRXDI">Gallery</a> &middot; <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Lin">Player Wiki</a></td></tr></td></tr></table></center></div>[/html]
#15
[html]
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong



OOC: +300 words.


Idrieus felt on edge about the whole situation. While she had not known Ondine all that well, her presence was felt through all of Salsola. Such a thing came to those that were able to obtain the honor of holding a faction rank. Ondine had served as the pack's Seer for a fair amount of her life, following along with the Crone in the Sanctus tier. For her to come to such an end.. it was strange.

The Paladin and Grievous had been along the shores that morning, summoned by O'Riley himself to go scouting. Their had to return empty-handed, the sea having swallowed her and her mate whole. Even so.. it gave both of them a chance to speak, in an open world where no one in the thistle kingdom would be able to hear their whispers on the wind. All of it bothered her. There was no hatred between the Seer and her mate, so why would he suddenly turn on her, leaving Delfina to avenge her when he had done so? All the leaders had to go on was her word in the end.

There had to be something more to it.

The dog woman's head rose to the sound of the call. Such a call could not be ignored. Not having anything to bring as an offering, her presence was still requested, as this was likely being held in the woman's honor. By the time she had already arrived, there were many others here before her. It only made sense. There were others far more important, far closer to the woman that should be here.

One thing that had been noticed by the Paladin was the dead woman's sister. Of all who had come, she had come late. It only made the suspicions grow within her mind. Why would Delfina come late to her own sister's funeral? Eyes narrowed slightly to the thought as her head turned back forward to those gathered. This was not the time to be thinking on these thoughts so seriously. This was meant to be a time of mourning and honor. There would be plenty of time to dive deeper into this mystery another time.

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#16
[html]
To rise and shine is so hard to do
When all the light has been taken from you



OOC: +300 words.


Silas was still fairly new to the kingdom. He had not had the chance to grow close to anyone aside from Helena, the woman who had first brought him here on his previous master's orders, and Julia. The latter of which was a woman he had met on the outside and reunited with in the thistle kingdom. Unlike him though, she had her freedom to move up within the ranks, while he was bound to their service, doing everything as he was told until his debt had been repaid.

It was the Queen herself who had summoned him on this day. The Heiwa clan had gathered to mourn the loss of Ondine, and were setting up the necessary items they would need for the funeral. He attended to her every order, assisted as he was asked to, and when the moment of truth came, he moved off to the side, making way for those coming to attend this honorous ceremony.

The wolf shouldn't be here. He didn't know the woman, nor was it his place for a servant to mourn a ranked member. The only one he had every mourned was his former master. Head lowered, golden eyes turning to the ground as the night dragged on. The longing in his heart to return to the place when his master fell welled up inside of him. Maybe the Queen would be kind enough to allow him to go outside of the borders to visit the grave so long as he had an escort.

He would never think of running.. but to put his new master's mind at ease over it.

Head rose as the event was dying down. The offerings had been tossed into the pyre, the woman's mourners returning to their homes; yet he remained, assisting in cleaning up from the ceremony. It wasn't until this task was done that he dragged himself back to the communal servant quarters. Curling up under his fur blanket, his eyes closed, a tear escaping from his eye as he once again felt the desire to mourn his own loss.

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[html]<div id="sig279311" class="signature"> <style> @import url('/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css'); #sig279311 { display:flex; }.SilasSiggy {width:500px; text-align:center; margin:0 auto; padding-bottom:35px;} .SilasName {font:20px georgia; font-weight:bold; color:#000; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing:2px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; text-shadow:#fff 0 0 1px; text-align:center; padding-bottom:3px;} .SilasInfo {margin-right:-90px;} #SilasPP a {background-repeat: no-repeat; display:inline-block; position:relative; margin:0; opacity:.35; filter:alpha(opacity=35%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all;} .SilasSiggy #signature-icons a {background-repeat: no-repeat; display:inline-block; position:relative; margin:0; opacity:.35; filter:alpha(opacity=35%); transition:200ms linear all; -moz-transition:200ms linear all; border-bottom: 3px solid transparent; } .SilasSiggy #signature-icons a:hover, .SilasSiggy #signature-icons a:focus, .SilasSiggy #signature-icons a:active {opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%); border-bottom: 4px solid #fed700; box-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #000;} .SilasInfo #SilasPP a:hover, .SilasSiggy #SilasPP a:focus, .SilasSiggy #SilasPP a:active {opacity:1; filter:alpha(opacity=100%);} </style> <div class="SilasSiggy"> <img src="https://i.imgur.com/fWoACZC.png" style="margin-bottom:-150px; margin-left:-220px;"> <div class="SilasInfo"> <div class="SilasName">Silas del Morte</div> <div id="signature-icons"> <a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a> <a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Salena" target="_blank" title="PLAYER WIKI" class="player-wiki"></a> <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.SilasDelMorte" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER WIKI" class="character-wiki"></a> <a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Salena" class="reply-medium" title="REPLY SPEED: MEDIUM"></a> <a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a> <a href="#!" title="I will roleplay LASKY." class="will-lasky"></a> <a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.SalenaAdoptions" class="adoptables-available" title="ADOPTABLES available!"></a> <br> <a href="#!" class="secui-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated, though Silas still walks on all fours as if he were in LUPUS."></a> <a href="#!" target="_blank" title="Silas 'speaks' in sign language, denoted by italics with normal quotation marks." class="foreign-language"></a> <a href="#!" class="skill-scholar" title="Silas has been taught the ability to read and write for communication, denoted by italics with one quotation mark(s)."></a> <a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Silas has been taught how to fight with daggers."></a> <a href="#!" class="apparel-accessories" title="Regardless of the situation, Silas is always wearing a leather collar around his neck and his golden nose ring."></a> <a href="#!" class="character-typical-location" title="Silas is only found in Salsola, unless with a ranked member. He is usually found around the servant's quarters or Helena's household."></a>
</div> <div id="SilasPP"><a href="http://salsola.soulsrpg.com/culture/joining" title="Become a Salsolian!"><img src="https://salsola.soulsrpg.com//public/pride/80x15_alaine.png"></a></div> </div> </div> </div>[/html]
#17
[html]

(+500)

Sorry I'm late ;n;

What were the Gods trying to tell him? Death had claimed one of the Family, and just like before, the deceased was a stranger to Sebastien. He had listened to the clan that had become his makeshift family and learned the woman, Ondine, had been a relation of Calla’s. The household stirred at the news of a public funeral, which the dog found himself surprisingly invited to.

The male listened to the conversations going on around him as he washed his face. He sensed there was a secret he wasn’t privy to. As he raked his nails through his fur, he told himself he didn’t really want to know. He knew the importance of looking his best for such a gathering; all eyes would be on each member and any mistake was dangerous. Sebastien knew this, intoned as it had been into him day and night by Helena.

Mottled hair grew thicker than it had several moons ago, especially around the pale tracks of scars. The boy had made an attempt to tame the mess of hair as best he could. Strands stuck out at odd angles where he had tried to smooth them out with waxes. The hound dressed simply and entirely in dark colours, as the situation called for.

Once finished, he met up with Coax and Dirge. The pale brother had put his arm on the red male, as Sebastien caught the tail end of the shaman’s words. He nodded to them both, and fidgeted with his clothes as the siblings spoke about the night ahead. The hound chuckled at the idea of Till misbehaving; what did that mean? His uncle had always been friendly and interesting. Sebastien quirked an eyebrow at the thought of the Ulrich patriarch as rebellious.

He grinned at Dirge as Coax mentioned them sticking together. The tall male had his own plans however, so the boy called after him, “We’ll see ya later buddy.” Bastien’s hair rose as the hybrid drew close, his voice low as he explained the dark history that bound families together. The feeling of a cold fingertip ran along his spine as a story of magic bound by blood spilled from his friend’s lips. He started as Coax slung an arm around his shoulder; continuing the tale with breath tickling the inside of his ears.

The mention of the missing brother made his ears tilt forward. Very little was spoken about him or what happened. It was not a question he wanted to ask whilst they were still on the subject of earthly magic that demanded so much of its practitioners. Too much. The hound learned the outcome of their pact was Dirge, and that his birth had caused the fracturing of the families. Sebastien nodded, though it was all a little overwhelming. “Wow.”

There was no question of not turning up. The hound weighed up the pouch of offerings he wished to nourish the departed’s spirit. He wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate thing to do, but he held firm to his personal beliefs. The slave didn’t see Coaxoch with anything, but kept his mouth shut. With the troubled relationships between Heiwa and Ulrich, he could not blame him.

Their early arrival ensured that all eyes were upon the three males. Sebastien dropped his gaze and followed Dirge as he laid his gift by the effigy of one of their own. The thing was eerie, a roughly-made mannequin with unblinking stones for eyes. Fearfully, he looked away from this and tried not to run toward Coaxoch’s side.

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Avatar by Marcy! ♥


[html]<div class="Bunsig">
<img src="https://image.ibb.co/iGed7w/Bun_lupus_by_J.png" style="height:150px; z-index:-1; margin: 0px 300px -100px;" />
<div class="title">Sebastien Stone</div>

<div class="bottom">
<div class="sigicons" id="signature-icons">
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Ketsuki" target="_blank" title="Ketsuki's Wiki" class="player-wiki"></a>

<a href="#" class="reply-slow" title="REPLY SPEED: SLOW- Up to 2 weeks"></a>
<a href="#" title="I will roleplay mature material.Fade-to-black preferred." class="will-mature"></a>
<a href="#" title="I will roleplay LASKY." class="will-lasky"></a>
<br>
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Sebastien" target="_blank" title="Bastien's Wiki" class="character-wiki"></a>
<a href="LINK" title="OPEN FOR THREADS!" class="open-for-threads"></a>
<a href="#!" class="apparel-accessories" title="Typically wears plaid scarves and studded leather bracelets."></a>
<a href="#" class="references-okay" title="OOC references okay. Specific conversations please PM me first."></a>
<a href="#" class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>
<a href="#!" class="accompaniment" title="Typically accompanied by two Indian runner ducks, Myrkr and Tara."></a>
<a href="#" class="skill-trade" title="Offers animal feed, dye, tattoos, art, charms, fortunes etc."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-animals" title="Skilled with small domestic animals such as goats and ducks."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Follower of an eclectic faith."></a>
[size=50]
Art Credit: Jacoby![/size]
</div>
</div>
</div>

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[/html]
#18
[html]

Word Count → ??? :: ---





It was easier to watch her people as they came, lonely or in droves, to tend their final farewell. Easier still to look beyond them to the loch, its grey waters churning as though the ocean had been captured here and resented its lack of freedom. She wondered at the movement of the earth; At all the impact the red star had wrought against this land in her lifetime. If the sea itself was not immune, were any of them safe from change?


She wondered if the loch was angry, restless. If that was why the water spirits had refused to return Ondine's body to them.


For the woman's husband she wondered not at all; He had been an Outsider once, and to their records had died as such, his presumed crime having swept away any Salsolan identity at all.


Many of those who came to pay respects did so with great solemnity, placing offerings to the deceased around the straw manikin. It was a small ransom in sum; If the Seer's soul was wanting in whatever afterlife reached for those who did not assume spectral manifestation, then surely, it would soon be sated.


Some were not so humble in their appearances. As her gaze roamed the quiet, milling faces, she spied Till's son looking straight at her - the sun caught his blue eyes and made them glimmer like seafoam. He was smiling his father's smile, in the absence of that man. Elphaba's brow caught in the echo of a frown, some small ember curdling inside her at this open display of disrespect; The familial feud between the Ulrichs and the Heiwas was infamous, of course, but in being so obnoxiously charlatan Coax was disrespecting her as the host of this funeral.


She made a mental note to deal with him later.


The warmth of her attention fell upon Brocade and the girl he had brought at his heel. She stole a small, secret glance for him, something that warmed into the ghost of a smile at her own ward's arrival. The girl was doing well in her training, and her presence here represented Maelyx' attendance too.


One of the last to catch her eye, the Good Doctor looked hardly to embody the nickname Salsola had chosen for him. Thinking of the night she had told him, and his reaction, made Elphaba uneasy; She tried (and failed) to catch his eye, and finally relented to the task ahead.


With ceremonial grace, the young queen stepped past O'Riley and approached the altar.


"My people," Her words were soft and commanded silence, attention, solemnity, "My kingdom. We come together at this ancient spot to lick a great wound that has been dealt us," Her slanted eyes, normally bright with charismatic malevolence, were heavy with respectful decorum as she dipped her head toward the small cluster of Heiwas, Krios at his grandmother's arm. She thought perhaps the matriarch's expression was contorted with sorrow, but beneath the sweep of her hair it was difficult to tell. "The loss of any Salsolan is one felt keenly, but this - to lose a Faction Elite, a noble-born daughter - this is a suffering that we all must bear."


The flint in her hand felt sharp and heavy, its edge pressed uncomfortably into her palm. Elphaba glanced at her cousin almost uncertainly, but something she saw in O'Riley's expression seemed to bolster her. The young queen took a deep breath. "And bear it we shall. These gifts we offer unto the dead; Our meat her sustenance; Our herbs her wealth; Our wine her blood. May it appease Ondine Heiwa's spirit in this life and the next - May her death satisfy whatever cruel fate it was that took her from us."


She had practiced the line last night and found it fitting, but now it seemed hardly enough.


Swallowing dryly, Elphaba took the flint stone firmly in her grasp and held it out toward the pyre.


The first strike delivered nothing. The second, a small scattering of sparks that refused to catch. The young queen looked troubled as she struck a final, third time; A glowing flicker of light danced from the flint and arced over to the kindling piled around the straw body. For a moment, nothing happened.


And then a tongue of flame began to rise.


Elphaba stiffened her shoulders resolutely. "The Crone will lead us in a prayer for the dead. Long may she live in the world beyond this one." Relieved that her part was ended, she stepped back from the growing flames, and bowed her head as Loki began his sermon.

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#19
[html]

scarce on time so fading my post out with the start of the prayer, use your imaginations xD;


Mourners gathered, some touched by genuine grief, others seeking only to make the proper appearances before they departed. They approached the false-Ondine with gifts: wooden figurines, oils, furs, and flowers -- so many bouquets and sprinkles of herbs. The effigy seemed to take on a presence of its own with the swirl of scent, and Loki drew in the floral aroma, his eyes shut, so that he might settle his own nerves.

He tried not to look back out at the faces, but he could feel his fur rising on the nape of his neck as a pair of blue eyes studied him.

A last few passed by, including the cowherd placing tiny jars of what must have been milk while her dark wife stood silently at her side, and Elphaba spoke. At the altar she spoke of loss and gifts for the dead, and Loki's ears twitched as she alluded to appeasing the hunger of whatever darkness had stolen the Seer from them. He made a sign against the evil eye, and watched with held breath as the young Queen struck the flint thrice.

It burned quickly, herbal smoke, the petals of flowers crinkling as the effigy was consumed. Loki stepped forward, spread his hands, and began to pray.

Great Mother, welcome Ondine back into your womb...


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[/html]
[html]<div class="lokisig1">
<div class="title">With your feathers and <b class="sl">thorns</b> sticking to my hide </div>

<div class="bottom">
<div class="sigicons" id="signature-icons">
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.LokiJadeLykoi" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER WIKI" class="character-wiki"></a>
<a href="http://imgur.com/a/CEmVf" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER GALLERY &amp; CREDITS" class="ic-gallery"></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.LokiJadeLykoi#toc3" class="apparel-accessories" title="Adorned in silver & gold jewelry, sometimes a cloak or fancy clothing.
See wiki for specific accessories."></a>
<a href="#!" class="scent-warning" title="Loki smells ambiguous in sex, male/female.
Scent disguised outside Salsola: pine, meadowsweet, pennyroyal. "></a>
<a href="#!" class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-social" title="A silver-tongued liar who radiates a friendly charisma, enemy of nobody."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-spirituality" title="Norse paganist witch aided by sleight of hand."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-crafts" title="Creates with fur and leather. Salsola's toymaker!"></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Raze" target="_blank" title="PLAYER WIKI" class="player-wiki"></a>
<a href="ucp.php?i=pm&mode=compose&u=68" class="player-contact" title="CONTACT: PM Vesper"></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.RazeAdoptions" class="adoptables-available" title="ADOPTABLES available!"></a>
<a href="viewtopic.php?t=23974" target="_blank" title="POST LOG" class="post-log"></a>
<a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use graphical tables in our threads. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a>
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[/html]
#20
[html]

(300+) late, but I am here!



She had been one of the last few to come to the funeral, but she made it in time to give her offering before Elphaba continued.

Salsola’s Stone Ship was beautiful; some days there was a calm, serene feeling about the place, others there was an electric energy that buzzed and zipped through the free-standing rocks. It was a curious place - one that Lithia wholeheartedly believed was a world between worlds. Once one stepped into the stones, they were among spirits.

Black shadows danced in the corners of her eyes as she made her way towards the gathering. They lingered just like the crowd, watching, waiting. When she’d look towards them, they’d hide. They were there for Ondine. Perhaps Ondine was here for her family. Perhaps Ondine stood with her family who had died, watching over the living.

Lithia came in a long black dress, her hair set free from its usual side braid to flow freely over her shoulders in long, wavy strands. Emotion was absent from her face. She hadn’t known Ondine all that well, but the woman’s presence in Salsola was prominent. In her death, respects were to be paid. The dead watched over the living; it wasn’t wise to make enemies with spirits.

Lithia passed the long line of Salsolans, pink eyes fixed on the pyre. It felt like such a long walk, like it was like those dreams where you're in a hallway running towards a light source, a door, but no matter how fast you run, it's always out of reach. When she approached the pyre, she stood for a moment - eyes moving from the makeshift body to the pit, full of offerings already; her lips muttering something of a prayer - no, it was a request and a farewell. Then she dropped her gift into the pyre: a large waterskin of high quality wine, to keep the woman’s thirst quenched in the afterlife.

Then Lithia stepped away, allowing the Crone to do his business and the ceremony to continue. Lithia found a place among friends in the crowd and settled in to watch the ceremony.



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<div class="buttonblock">
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<a class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>

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<a class="character-typical-location" title="Typically found in the Northern Tides, but occasionally comes to Seabreeze Brink."></a>
<a class="apparel-accessories" title="Wears a leather skirt, purple or black crop top, and a ruby necklace (see Wiki!)"></a>
<a class="accompaniment" title="Lithia is often accompanied by her slave, Totem, unless otherwise stated"></a>
<a class="scent-warning" title="Disguises her scent with pine, dirt, and budding flowers."></a>
<a class="skill-fighting" title="Lithia is a skilled fighter, specializing in the use of short swords or daggers."></a>
<a class="skill-stealth" title="Skilled in stealth."></a>
<a class="skill-trade" title="Character is skilled in trade."></a>

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