Re: roots spread all the way back to godless times

Pack Thread

POSTED: Tue Sep 11, 2018 12:40 pm


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.

nothing to fear, nothing to doubt
The Tradesman (NPC)
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POSTED: Tue Sep 11, 2018 1:10 pm

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.
The Tradesman
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Luperci Witch Nocturne Family: The Untamed Heart
Defiant Star

POSTED: Tue Sep 11, 2018 11:32 pm

Helena Troy Lykoi


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
Helena Troy Lykoi

The Ambassador
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Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Mon Sep 17, 2018 11:25 am

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.

whose eyes you gonna use?

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lost in the static

POSTED: Tue Sep 18, 2018 12:11 pm

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.

Idrieus Eternity

The Paladin
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Luperci The Price for Freedom More than a Warning
Karma's Gonna Come Collect Your Debt
smiles of plated GOLD

POSTED: Tue Sep 18, 2018 2:54 pm

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.

Silas del Morte

Indentured Servant
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Luperci Forever Changing Bound to the Raven's Call

POSTED: Tue Sep 18, 2018 5:04 pm


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.

Avatar gifted by Jmonster, art by Nandolicious! ♥

Sebastien Stone

Art Credit: Jacoby!
The Confidant
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POSTED: Mon Sep 24, 2018 6:24 am

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.

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
↟ ↟ ↟

POSTED: Mon Sep 24, 2018 9:26 am

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...

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

POSTED: Wed Oct 03, 2018 3:10 pm

(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.

The Family
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Luperci Your poison taints my blood
hardest of hearts
and from it she fled

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