roots spread all the way back to godless times

Pack Thread

POSTED: Sat Aug 18, 2018 11:53 pm

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.

we need a forest fire
The Boss
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Luperci Witch she hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit the queen is dead, long live the queen
burn the witch
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POSTED: Mon Aug 27, 2018 7:21 pm


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.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

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Striker (NPC)
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Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Wed Aug 29, 2018 10:29 am

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.

if the thunder don't get you
then the lightning will
The High Inquisitor
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'Souls Assemblage Luperci Informatore & Cazador LET ME IN
a tightening atrocity

POSTED: Sat Sep 01, 2018 9:02 am

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.
With your feathers and thorns sticking to my hide
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Luperci raven & dove
trickster god

POSTED: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:30 pm

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.

Kamari Kaiser

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The Inquisitor
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Moderator Luperci Sapienza, Vedetta Mate to Krios Royalty of a Fallen Kingdom
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Amongst Shadows
Bearer of Masks

POSTED: Tue Sep 04, 2018 7:46 am

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 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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The Warden
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This World Keeps Twisting

POSTED: Tue Sep 04, 2018 8:29 am


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.

Sanctus Apprentice (NPC)
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Luperci Witch

POSTED: Tue Sep 04, 2018 12:35 pm

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.


The Inquisitor
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Luperci Vedetto, Milite
you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

POSTED: Tue Sep 04, 2018 2:32 pm

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.

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Luperci Lucky Little Leaf
pale man
danse macabre

POSTED: Wed Sep 05, 2018 10:10 pm

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.
The Henchman
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Luperci Cavalleria Mate to Shaamah

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