[AW+] [m] ad virginem messis

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


Word Count → ??? :: It is Friday the 13th, and the night of the harvest/hunter's moon! Prompted by her cousin, the queen has called for the coven to undertake a blessing rite to ensure Salsola's bounty; As well as to manifest a hex upon the bringer of the Sanctum curse...

All members of Salsola welcome - this is a non-mandatory pack thread, though members of the coven or any holding the Witch corank are strongly encouraged to make an appearance, even if only for one post, as there may be IC consequences for their lack of attendance. M-warn is for drug use and to cover us in the event that things get especially spooky, which is always a possibility with the witches of SL ;>
If you are looking to get the Witch corank, this thread will be very useful to you!


The two women talked in low voices that afternoon. The redhead was a beautiful creature, with long silky hair and slanted yellow eyes not unlike those of the fox that lounged in the fading buttery sunlight pooled at their feet. By contrast the darker woman seemed too-sharp, too-lean, the roots of a gnarled pine and a barbed branch given female form; Not a luxuriant beauty in the traditional sense, but possessed of an unmistakably captivating air nonetheless. By the skin and the fur they were as different from eachother as night from day.

But the blood beneath, it was Familia.

It was red, and blue, and silver.

"Are you sure it comes tonight?" Elphaba asked the Director's bethrothed, and was settled by a reassuring glance. Morgana kept her own primitive calendar for such things, as women of their ilk had done since the Ones that Came Before - or perhaps earlier still, if the decaying records of their alien passage held any weight. For many of those who practiced the Craft, nature's timeline was the one and only dictator of life. They lived by the celestial movements overhead; By the end of the harvest season, and by the cold teeth of a winter that would soon come.

So the women talked some more, and decided upon what needed doing. In the absence of a Crone, the queen took her cousin's council, and began the appropriate preparations.


By the time they were ready the harvest moon had risen. After a week of grizzly weather it was an auspiciously clear night. Only thin wisps of cloud skulked and threaded about the rotund orange orb, distended and heavy like an overripe pumpkin or the swell of a pregnant woman's belly.

In the heart of the Blackwoods, a familiar grove had been cleared of debris. The sacred pines surrounding the empty center had been carved over time with many simple eyes that watched the proceedings unblinking. It was not the first time the practitioners had gathered in this place to work their occult craft.

By the unkindled pyrewood stacked in the center of the glade, Morgana set to her own tasks. Elphaba wandered the outer circle slowly, brushing her fingertips over the knotted pupils of the carvings. The spirits in the trees pressed in all around them, and the queen whispered to them softly, her eyes bright carmine and cochineal rouge.

When the witches were ready, the young queen took a deep breath and lifted her palms toward the sparkling heavens. A low coy breeze stirred the heavy bearhide cloak that hid her bare body beneath. Her song ebbed out between the gnarled trunks and vicious thistlehems, a haunting command that was echoed somewhere in the dark by the ahhh! ahhh! ahhh! of a Noble bird.

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pump your veins with gushing gold

For a long while, he had expected himself above the notions of magic and mythos - so far distanced, he had made himself; There was a grand disconnect from the roots of his family, of the delicate whispers that rushed on the swell of blood pumped from his beating heart.

Perhaps he'd closed himself out of fear. Perhaps it was out of rejection.

Perhaps it was because it all tied back to her, and made him think and remember. Calla and her son shared the same eyes, after all.

Black thorns, pine brambles, needles and carved-in-eyes, he'd followed the call, interrupted as it was by the piercing wail of the bejeweled bird that nestled itself into the woods. Julius spoke nothing of his disdain for that sound - so too did his contempt grow out of jealousy for things beautiful and untouchable and forbidden. Unseen fingers etched lines up his spine beneath his clothing, from his hips clear up through the crest of his shoulders, and his hackles bristled beneath the high collar of his shirt as the eyes increased in their number.

He could swear he felt them turn towards him as he passed, until he hit that pyre where the Queen stood, and watched it with a contemplative curiosity, and he twirled something pearly, curved, and white between his fingertips.

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"Are you sure it's okay?"

Quiet voiced, the girl chirped her question in a hushed tone. The prickle of awareness running across her skin had her clutching at Eden's arm all the tighter. This question had already been asked once or twice, but still hesitant, she asked it again.

Here, the dense pines and stately sentinels grew tall and thick, noble guardians of this place that she was brought along to. The echoing cry of the peacock reverberated around in her mind, filling it with splashes of color. Eden was the same lovely hue as his eyes, a beautiful sound. He was quick to reassure her that no one would mind at all.

Eyes, carved deeply into the woods had ceased their weeping but long did their pearly tears linger.

Sunshine yellow blossomed its gaze upon the unlit pyre, upon the gracefully clothed form of her elder brother, and upon She. Pontifex had yet to meet their mystical Boss in such close quarters, and found her bear cloaked form somewhat intimidating. She smiled though, and tried not to look like anything was amiss. Mama's words dancing front and center in her thoughts.

"Oh.." The ginger-haired girl whiskered under her breath.

They were amongst the first to arrive, and to cover the nervous writhing in her stomach, she reached out to the sharp-angled male,

"Julius." Pontifex breathed, reaching about him with easy comfort, drawing a peace from him. He was not inclined to return her affection, and Pontifex did not expect this of him.

Returning her fingers to her own self, Ponti drifted back to Eden and she fiddled with the edge of her green tunic, unsure what to do with herself now.

Pontifex Troy Lykoi
You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
OOC: PP approved by Salena/Despi! Word Count: [000]

Credits: Kitty
(Table) | Chefheath (Image) |
Nat (Edits)

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Henchman: Till Van Ulrich
We are the victims but we are also the crime · And the only one who can judge us is the earth

The blood red moon had come.

So came the call of the Spider Queen, Elphaba Revlis, addressing the members of their coven.

It was an offer that he wished that he could refuse, but he was not at liberty to do so. He had to heed the call of their Queen, even though his Gods might not be pleased by his lack of The Hunt.

Till found himself itching for The Hunt, but knew that formalities came beforehand. Till dressed in an abnormal, ritualistic cloak that was that of a puma headdress and accompanied large cloak that was painted upon in red with ancient symbols. When the call had beckoned him, he had found his clothing and dressed himself accordingly before leaving his home. Additionally, the male painted with black ashes on his pale face, around his eyes and red strikes off his cheeks, as a symbol more to his Red God and how he must serve his Gods as well. Maybe, he thought, he would be able to slip from the ritual early enough to please the Gods who had given him the gifts that he had received this year.

As he moved on, the whispers on the air tickled his ears as he found himself plunging deeper and deeper in the woods, until they would be greeted with a pyre, and the forms of others who stared upon it with wonder. His bright eyes turned to look at the creatures whom had made it there, and helped to prepare the coven's rituals. The Henchman did not lift the cloak's hood, and he merely smiled as his eyes had come across Elphaba's own blood red ones, he nodded briefly and found himself some distance away from other patrons that he knew.

Till had barely glanced at the patrons who had shown their faces, and as he had approached, he drifted past these other younger, more inexperienced creatures, like a ghostly apparition, the moon's glare catching on his pink features, and making his whites more white, and pinks seemed ethereal. He thought to himself of if there would be a sacrifice gifted to the Gods above, or if they would not beget blood with blood, and finally find an end to this curse that seemed to plague Salsola. Till wondered when they would finally find out who did it, and why it had happened. He wondered if this was a ritual of divination, or if they were going to finally dip into the twisted world of Blood Magick.

"Speech". Thinking.

Date/Time | Word Count: 420
Ooc: blagh blagh

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[WC: 400]

His mother had always believed, even when she had no reason to. That sort of faith had come from being saved by a holy person. The stories of the mountain called Khalif had been what presumably lured his parents away, seeking magical answers that Salsola could not provide.

Grievous had come to terms with his abandonment. He had grown stronger for it and, despite inexplicably struggling with his own purpose, now had before him a very clear path. Soon he would be wed, and he would have a new, better family.

For the first time in his life he would do something before his cousins and own that secret piece of knowledge in his heart, give it power, and have something to lord over them. They had gone too fast, seizing power recklessly.

He trusted them, still. He trusted his Family, and he trusted the Law. Loyalty was something he had chosen to value in spite of his absentee relatives, and Grievous had made a point to ensure everyone understood that. No ill winds, no curses, nothing had struck him. He, like his leaders, was shielded.

With this knowledge, he came to Elphaba's gathering as a show of proper unity. The full moon had made him restless and he itched to hunt, but he could do that when they finished here.

They were seeking answers, and Grievous – much like the yellow-eyed witch standing near the Boss – was eager to be on with it. No cost could be so great as to let things continue as they had been. He wanted justice, but mostly, he wanted to move on.

Magic required faith and devotion. Grievous, always eager to display his unquestionable loyalty, came to see what sort remained now that they lacked a true spiritual leader (and indeed, an entire pillar of their society).

He found them in a world illuminated by moonlight. Low and fat, the great white orb hung above the assembled. A dark-haired man and his younger, pale-faced sister hung beyond where the Ulrich Patriarch, with an animal skin draped with fur and a long, rune-covered cloak, positioned himself closer to the Coven.

That was what they called themselves, these witches – Morgana, with her holy trinkets and baubles, and the Boss herself, waiting and ready for her Familia.

As he announced himself with a low wuff, Grievous came to join the other curious, hesitant onlookers.

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masks beneath masks until suddenly
the bare bloodless skull

She was officially a member of the coven. It was as if Symre had earned her first badge as a proper member of Salsola, but it changed nothing about the way she felt inside. A part of her had thought that by earning something that she would have been able to set aside some of the feelings that she harbored towards the crown – but instead all she saw were differences, ones that had her wishing that there were others who believed as she did.

The barking call of their Queen attracted her attention enough that she decided to follow the sound. Symre picked her way carefully, slinking through the wood as she began to plait the long waves of her hair with nimble fingers. She brushed her hands through the rest of her fur, centring the golden coin that hung like a trophy at the centre of her throat. There was something magical about this day, something that hung like a secret promise over the full moon.

Everything through the forest glittered silver, and as Symre cut her way into the gathering she carefully stuck to the places of shadow – where the silver light couldn’t find her.

Her russet gaze was carefully controlled as she took in the other followers – members of the so-called coven and those who had come for the spectacle of it all. Elphaba stood alone at the forefront, her ruby-red eyes peering out into the crowd as she sang her curdling song. Morgana was there too – pretty and flame-colored, just like a pyre. Somewhere close she could smell her cousin, and the thought of Julius made her lips curl.

Symre’s hands tightened into fists, and she waited.

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[size=200]᛫ ᚻᛖᛞᛄ ᛫ ᚹᛁᛏᚳ᛫[/size]

Eden's here. Lemme know if PP is ok Jace. +500 words.

Eden found himself unable to stray away from the Blackwoods. He had this feeling ever since he was young, and the strong presence of his mother in these woods did nothing to keep him from going there. Despite having been told the stories of the dangers these woods possessed, it was not enough to keep him away.

When the Queen's song rang through the land, the Tradesman found himself unable to resist her call. She was like the Siren that was drawing him into the place that would steal his soul away from him, and here he went willingly.

The boy didn't mind himself entering alone on this night either. Pontifex had met up with him on the outskirts of the woods. This was not the first time he had found her here, or even when the two of them had entered this place together. Where he showed interest, the female showed fear over the place. She probably took more to heart the warning of danger, and perhaps that was for the best for her. He honestly couldn't see her fitting in with the other witches.

Eden offered her a smile as she clung to his arm, I promise, it's ok. If there's anything dangerous here, then I'll get rid of it.

Moving one hand over her own, the pair made their way through the thick lines of the trees, minding the presences that lingered here as they moved. Haivng recalled a conversation he held with an Outsider, he had slipped some of the sage he gathered into the pocket of his pants. These woods were haunted, and he remembered her telling him that sage could be used to fend over evil spirits. So long as he had it with him, he knew for certain the two of them would be safe from harm.

It wasn't long before the pair had reached the gathering point, seeming to be the second ones to come. It was his Uncle's figure that stood out to the two of them. While Pontifex had stepped away to greet him, the young witch had turned his head to the Boss and Morgana, both beings he had spent some time with before. He bowed his head to each of them.

Pink gaze turned back to his friend as she returned to his side. He noticed that she still seemed to be nervously fiddling with her clothing. Another smile formed on his face as he moved one hand over her shoulder, Don't worry, we'll be safe here. There'll be more coming. The Boss will keep us all safe too.

His head turned, watching the arrival of his grandpa, his own teacher, and Symre following along behind him. Eden couldn't help but feel his heart beating in his chest. He knew everyone that had gathered here so far. It was nice to see that his desire to get to know those in Salsola had been paying off, and now all of them were here to stand with the Queen.

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Eden de le Ulrich
[Image: yfguJcT.png]

Avatar art by Alaine · Sig art by Despi


Salena/Jace, hope you don't mind Eve tagging along? <3

              The days were inexplicably growing shorter all of a sudden, with it brought the crisp air of what she had long forgotten in her short lifespan. It was hard to believe after such a warm summer that the cold air would soon return requiring the girl to clutch her cloak around her all the tighter. Her heart thrummed a steady rhythm within her breast, breathless and in awe of the moon that hung heavy overhead with its bright orange glow cast upon the Blackwoods. An ethereal glow lit up the forest, as thing wisps of mist moved in and out of the dark trunks around her.

              But, despite the warnings, Evelyn did not fear this place.

              It was an odd sensation, and not one she even dared to share with Eden. A sense of security seemed to envelop her every time she stepped into the woods, especially on nights of a full moon and tonight was no different. The eerie calls of the animals in the forest would be enough to send a shiver up even the bravest's spine, but not even that could phase the young dove.

               Ocean coloured eyes darted as shadows popped just on the edges of her vision, it wasn't until a couple moments later she heard the call. It was all too familiar and the young de le Ulrich child pushed her way through the forest, eventually falling upon the familiar scent of her brother mixed within the scent of a close companion - Pontifex. The girl picked her way through the woods quietly, but with an agile grace that had her catching up to the pair in no time. Hoping not to scare them, having caught just a bit of conversation between the two and the faint fear scent that emanated from the younger of the pair Evelyn cleared her throat as she came closer.

              "Hey Eden, hey Pontifex, what's going on?" she asked, her eyes darting towards the adults in the center of the clearing. Most familiar to her was her grandfather, although he appeared ethereal and god-like in the moonlight, Evelyn did not dare approach and great him as she would normally. Reaching out to Eden, she brushed her fingers along the inside of his free arm, where she wound her own through and clung close to him as the three supported each other in the oddity of the ritual taking place before them.

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[html]<center><img src=https://i.imgur.com/CxudeI6.png><br>image by the lovely Despi <3 c:</center>[/html]
[size=120]Bound by fateful words spoken within a tower of ancient stone she heeded the monarch’s call. There was no questioning the purpose for this summon, the signs were there all around them. A change of seasons, a swollen moon casting light at an hour that should belong to the shadows and the restlessness of those who devoted their lives to magic.

The coven was on the move again, like a bird whose broken wings had healed and now wished to fly again. Had it not been the Queen herself the one who choreographed this blasphemous ritual the grizzled veteran wouldn’t have bothered to make herself present at all. The tell-tale swelling of her abdomen would have proven to be an acceptable excuse for her absence, but there were debts that still needed to be paid and a front of strength and loyalty that must be upkept. She was their monarch’s sworn sword and it was time for their society to know that her Herculean lineage was growing.

A beast of eldritch appearance prowled closer, lingering in the outskirts of the grove as the believers gathered. She paced, restless, following the movements of the woman that owned this night and this place like a ward.

Eventually the onlookers would settle and the carmine-eyed pythoness would lift her voice with the eloquence that was her trademark. Only then would the gold and charcoal veteran step into the light, letting the orange tones of this special moon highlight her frame. As large as her Halfling form already was, the roundness of her belly somehow made the matriarch appear more gargantuan, stronger somehow. Something fierce had settled in her features, a wildness that had been witnessed by their peers before in small glimpses, but it now lingered on the surface untamed and unmasked. Those toxic hues were wary, unblinking as they assessed the surroundings.

The cunning would know not to approach the pregnant creature, not the gatherers and not the spirits they called upon. Her very presence defied their existence with the strength of her non-belief and this by itself was a shield against any metaphysical being that was beyond the limits of her comprehension. Would her presence then be taken as an offense by the unseen beings that consorted with their Boss? Would this draw their covetous eyes toward her being and the new life that grew in her womb? All Salsolans were the same, living and unliving, they all desired most what they couldn’t have.

Kaeli wasn't one to share.
[size=130]It felt like an important thing to make an appearance during this ritual, even if Varda shared her family’s inclination toward hard atheism. Still low on the hierarchy it was important to make herself present and show interest in their culture. She would do whatever it took to realize her ambitions and finally step out of the long shadow cast by her progenitor.

There where the coven had gathered she saw many familiar faces, and some she had never seen, mostly the young who had just made their debut into adulthood. She bowed her head and smiled at all of them, gravitating closer to the white male who shared her profession. A strategical move, albeit a bold one. Even though she had no interest in the man beyond professional subjects her actions could be misinterpreted by the woman who had claimed his heart. Because of this she only offered a court greeting and stepped back, close enough for conversation but not nearly enough for any semblance of intimacy.

The eyes on the trees caught her attention. She could appreciate the illusion these primitive carvings were making, for even after having spotted each and every one of them she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched by something else. Unblinking, those wooden orbs followed you everywhere. Had they been Elphaba’s doing or were they the legacy of the first black witch? She would have to ask at a later date.

Electricity tingled in the back of her neck and spread down her arms to her finger tips, a feeling of anticipation nestling in her chest as the woods grew silent once more. There was no denying that faith held great power – amongst people with a common belief the few atheists standing in their midst couldn’t escape the ominous atmosphere that flooded the clearing.

Just then she caught a glimpse of her twin shade of green, and her heart skipped a beat. It had been many weeks since the last time she saw her mother. Her large form had been enlarged even more by the burden of life, and the inner-light that illuminated her grave features was a terrible and wondrous thing to witness. Something sharp buried in her heart and the spiced heiress had to make a great effort to look away and focus on the night’s events.

She would deal with her emotions later – under the cover of the morning mist and the excuse of yet another hunt.
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ooc here!
Voyage o'er the mountains and wastelands

The night of the red moon had come upon them, but so did the call that beckoned his father. Coaxoch could have easily done their hunt, but he also knew that Elphaba knew what the Ulrich clan would have been doing on this night, and it had been proven useful in the past to have witnesses to where he and his father would have been on the night of the Harvest Moon. Coaxoch knew his father would be there, not only to make sure that his name was not one that came up in the question of a curse, a murder of none other than another member of the Sanctus Tier, and Coaxoch knew that he needed to be there too, for the Queen likely would have expected his face, along with that of his father's.

Coaxoch did not bring a live sacrifice on this eve, for there were bigger sacrifices that were to be made on this night before the sun would rise, and he would only show his face at this ritual because he was obligated to do so. Coaxoch, too, painted his freckled face with ashes that dyed his face black, and he wore his white wolf pelt across his shoulders with his hood resting over his crown. He did not check to see if his housemates were going to heed the call, but he had assumed that the deathly cold quiet of his home meant that the others had already gone ahead of him. It was not until he had seen the Raven Prince emerge from his room did he realize that Dirge had been in the home with him, and once the two had seemed to be ready, they both started off in the direction of the call.

They were some of the latest to arrive, but once they had, their eyes had roved over to the children who had come to watch the ritual. Dirge had put his hand over on Evelyn's shoulder and he smiled to her, while Coaxoch moved away from both of his children and he moved towards the cryptic father, whom glowed white and pink beneath the red moon. Coaxoch leaned in and whispered some words to his father before his bright blue eyes went and found themselves landing on the Spider Queen herself.

Coaxoch wondered why they were here this evening, and what had made Elphaba want to do a ritual on this night of all nights. She had also called all of the coven to join her, and while Coaxoch had not been officially part of the Coven, he did feel the need to be there. He caught a look that Till had given to the male, suggesting that he should not be here, and instead he should have been hunting, but Coaxoch had also sent out birds to scout for their target, so their target would not be lost for this night of nights.

The Red God, Valyskr, would have his live albino sacrifice. The Ulrichs would make sure of it.

Far beyond the sea lies fortune
template by veldt, image by @eryk9o9

OOC -So glad I could make it. <3

WC: 570

The Nocturne witch already danced through the crimson moonlight, veiled in its warmth like caresses from her mother when she was young. The air was electrified with magic and each individual fur on her body stood on end, nerves tingling with the power that laced all of Salsola.

Had her fur not been livened by the electricity in the air, surely the bitter bite of the night time chill would be attempting to lure her back home. Maroon garbs draped over her form paired with other adornments such as a bird wing headdress, hand made with four white dove wings. The wings were stained red with the blood of the doves they were plucked from, bound together with leather twine in a delicate matter. Thistle was placed amidst the carefully constructed piece causing no concern to Jak if it managed to injure her. The essence of Salsola was a non-negotiable ingredient on this enchanted night. Feathers consumed her neck and shoulders by means of a mantle that matched the headdress atop her head. Her face was decorated with bone dust paste, stark ivory to contrast her dark pelt. It was smeared across her eyes, down her muzzle, and down her sharp cheek bones.

The Boss's call reached her ears, vibrating down into their depths. The sweetest melody. A grin spread across her features as she spun on her toes, dancing through the woods in the direction of the call. The Blackwoods had already luring her towards them with its eerie song and Elphaba's command was only proof that the witches were connected by an immense divine network.

When she reached the opening in the bewitched forest, she paused, clutching her hands before her. Red and gold hues surveyed the collecting masses of Salsolans. A sigh whispered through her nostrils and she walked forward with an awakened smile. She paced through the familiar faces, stopping to admire the eyes that watched from the outskirts, painstakingly carved into the woods. Her hands caressed one of the larger carvings before she continued on her way through the gathering crowd. She acknowledged whoever graced her with their gaze and said hello to those who knew her. Then, she ran into a large, and at first, unfamiliar figure, almost colliding with him in a literal sense.

Pardon me! She exclaimed, looking upwards at the painted face of the canine. Her head tipped to the side as she struggled to recognize the face behind the painted decorations. It wasn't until she reached his shoulders that she easily placed a name to the distorted face. Coaxoch! You look so...different. I love it! She cooed, gaze washing over his own headdress and ritual wear. Jaketta was subdued by a vibrant bout of laughter before she fell both still and quiet. She bowed her head to him, never forgetting who were her superiors.

Jak turned away from Coaxoch and towards the pyre Elphaba and Morgana constructed. I wonder what The Boss has in store for us tonight. Surely something exhilarating. There was a mischievous flavor to her tone, a drastic change from her original titillated one. Her hackles rose at the back of her neck. Lips lifted to reveal ivory daggers that glistened orange in the light of the Harvest moon. I can barely contain myself. Even lower her tone fell. The witch was consumed with curiosity and energy from this evening's promising arrangement.

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OOC - Don't mind me throwing all my characters in here whoops WC: 574

I know exactly who you are

Spartacus had been not been unaware of what the importance of this night was, nor did he misunderstand the importance of the Call of the Queen to his father - one of the oldest witches that the Coven still held close. Alas he helped his father get ready, but failed to decide whether he, too, should show his face, or if he should have been out with the Owl, tracking the Ulrich's prey for the night. He was left to his own devices after his father had left the home with his face painted with black ashes and red berries. The leftover of both things had caught the eyes of the male, and he wondered if he, too, should partake in the makeup before he left to go to the ritual, but the longer he thought about it, the more he wondered what he would even do, seeing as his face was mostly dark anyways. If he had a pale face like his father, he might have been able to do something similar to his own painted face. He could darken the circles around his eyes, he found, but he did not want his makeup to be completely like his father's.

His fingers dipped into the berry smudge that his father left and the bright crimson eyes of the male contracted as he looked at it and he thought of blood. His maw turned into a sharp smile as he took the paint and he smudged tears down from his eyes to the bottom of his cheek and once he had done each eye, he had pushed his bangs out of the way to make a third eye that resembled the one that his own father had put on his crown. After he had done this, he finished getting his sub-par ritualistic outfit on, for he had no real ritual clothing like his father and brother had, yet. The clothing consisted of something of a red dyed sash/cape that bore the symbol of Ulrich on it's back with a matching kilt. This had been the first of these outfits, a protoype that had been commissioned by the father, and worn first by the son, for it fit him the best. Coaxoch had been much too big for the kilt as was the father, Till, and Sparta was still the only one small enough for it. Sparta wore the cape with pride and vigor as he finally took his leave from the home and he headed towards the Blackwoods where the Coven gathered for their Harvest Moon ritual.

Once the youth had gotten through the depths of the Blackwoods, he came upon a sight of about half of his family being present, including his younger siblings, his niece and nephew, his father, and three of his older brothers. He looked at each of his family members and passed by them, with a shift of his cloak that had their sigil on it, and he threw back a wink to his niece and nephew as he passed, in a silent greeting before finding his way next to his one-armed brother, and his father. He smiled pleasently as he looked to them two, and then to the woman who shared the rose red eyes that seemed to glow in the moon's pale light and against her stark white face. He did have to admit that their Queen was a beautiful one.

I can see right through you like glass

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