strange days moving on

POSTED: Wed May 31, 2017 8:54 am

Word Count → ??? :: thread location: The Ruins, Feasting Hall, late evening | Hello all! This is our Last Supper pack thread for the end of May. Some notes: Please allow Mel/Salvia to post next after me before beginning your posts. There is no strict posting order for this thread beyond that. All members are required to attend, unless otherwise organized with leadership - IC, not showing up will reflect very poorly on an individual! Assumptions as to your character (and/or their personal slaves) participating in the preparation for this event are welcome. Alright, everybody - buckle in for our first pack thread in some time!! ❤

It was as it had been, time and time before. Repetition was what secured ritual. In the secretive brambled heart of the Salsolan kingdom, there was no more formal rite than this. It was an event that had marked their beginning, and in the dreaded impermanence that belonged to all things of this world, it would likely someday mark their end.

As the setting sun died in great splendor over the far horizon, lights flickered to life in the crags and bluffs of the Ruins. The shadows cast by many great fires looked ethereal, like living things that walked among the crumbling stone facades of the ancient castle. Here, in the council of the great rounded spires that speared like monolithic bones from the dark, stony ground, the Feasting Hall had come most splendidly to life.

Under the lord's careful supervision, two days of toil bloomed to fruition. The slaves - those who remained after the sickness - scuttled about like the crabs which lived on the bleak grey shore, their heads bowed and eyes downcast as they attended to their many tasks. Some carried wide wooden platters brimming with an almost vulgar abundance of cured or roasted meats; Venison, lamb, fowl. The long wooden table, lined with a great number of crude wooden chairs carved from regional pine, seemed almost to sag under the weight of the feast. There were wide silver bowls filled with salted and smoked trout, whose scales glittered like gemstones in the flickering warm light; Loaves of rough grain bread stacked and overflowed from fabric bundles tied with twine; Chipped jugs swam with thick gravy, broth and tubers; Sweet and spiced applebloom cider brimmed from clay pitchers and tall greenglass bottles swirled with dark, sour wine. The scent of the great roasts, crackling and hissing on wide spits held over carefully dug fire pits, wafted an alluring aroma throughout the hillocks and pockets of the Ruins.

With the final fall of darkness, Lokr straightened the lapel of his fine dark-green tunic. He had dressed smartly for the occasion, as all who attended the venerable feast were want to do - Though tastes in clothing and adornments often varied wildly from individual to individual, the Last Supper never failed to be a dazzling affair. All of Salsola would present their finery, a show of strength, wealth and extravagance to dazzle their friends and neighbors.

As was tradition - that to which their Laws were all bound - the man stood at the far end of the table, beside the tallbacked chair in which the Boss would sit, and where both would be greeted by each Salsolan as they arrived. With a curt word he finalized his directions to those servants who milled about, and then his black swollen pupils rose expectantly to the misted pathway beyond the Feasting Hall, waiting for the Tigress and their people to arrive.

slithered here from Eden

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Luperci /
wrath of the north
a voice in the deep

POSTED: Wed May 31, 2017 9:36 pm

In the days before this one, a lot of talk had passed through the empty air. She found it strange now but imagined that if she had known sooner, she might not have reacted as she had done. Things were in motion now, and always had been, and though Salvia was the Boss and Queen of her kingdom, the forces greater than her could not be altered by anything short of death.

If she had been younger, if she had been crueler in her holding of the Law, this might have solved the problem.

Except there would be questions, and doubts, and she would not foster such things. It was simple enough to cast out a black sheep. After enough time, the things she wanted forgotten would be. For now the easiest thing was to bury all thought under other distractions – and the Last Supper provided ample options for such a thing.

She thumbed the feathered-serpent hanging between her breasts, but this was the only sign her mind was occupied. Her steps were steady and confident, and she did not spare glances to the homes she and her husband passed along their way. Stannis would occasionally look back to ensure the boy following them was still doing so, though he observed the blonde woman in the same fashion. The decision had not been made lightly, and it weighed upon them both.

The smell of meat and smoke filled the space surrounding their feasting hall, and woke Salvia from her daze. She lifted her head and set her face, and strode into the decorated place with all the proper airs of authority. An older dress, patterned with dark stripes and colored to a fierce sunset orange, clung to her hips but revealed the great scar on her chest openly. Gold and semi-precious stones reflected torchlight as she moved purposefully to the great chair which belonged to her, leaving her companions behind.

Lord Commander, she greeted the darker male, and looked over the spread briefly before nodding in approval. It was due time the Family had a proper meal.

The Regent (NPC)
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Luperci Cazadora, Vaquera Mate to Stannis Ultra Mega Chikkun? NO. She is legend... I will send famine and wild beasts against you, and they will rob you of your children.
occam's razor
a wild beast or a god

POSTED: Wed May 31, 2017 10:21 pm

Exciting~ cx [ 550 ]

As the sun sank and eventide descended upon the Thistle Kingdom the normal hustle and bustle of the Ruins for once did not die down. Contrarily it hastened and grew as Salsolan and slave alike hurried and scurried this way and that in preparation for the festivities to come. There were bodies to be cleansed, garments to be worn, adornments to be hung, and food to be prepared. It seemed no one was without something to do on such a momentous evening.

That night like all other Supper nights before was both a joyous and solemn occasion. There were things to be celebrated and things to be mourned but above all else Salsola's strength and unity was to be recognized once again, for without it they were nothing. With this in mind Scorpius spared no expense in making sure he and those closest to him looked their best.

Vesta donned a deep emerald evening dress accented with hints of black and gold and her fresh clean fur was scented with lavender and chamomile -- light calming aromas -- while her wild hair remained so but was twined through with tiny white wildflowers. Wretch too was dressed to thrill in a black gown that glittered with points of silver in just the right light and a sweeping neckline that beckoned hungry eyes. She smelled of foreign and exotic flowers from far away lands and had her hair up in loose wavy curls tucked behind her ears and accented with tiny blue flowers to match her eyes.

Scorpius was dressed simply but elegantly; a deep forest green vest over a plain white long sleeved shirt, black pants, and a finely crafted leather belt tooled with thistle and thorns with the Hand of Eris at its center. His light summer cloak draped neatly over his broad shoulders and his fur smelled handsomely of sandalwood, conifer, and a hint of ginger. He escorted a femme on each arm when he arrived to the feasting hall, the delectable bouquet of food smells whetting his appetite as his deep red gaze swept the area, taking note of who had already arrived as he made his way to greet their leaders.

The females rushed forward to make their greetings quick and give way to the Jagermeister, though Wretch lingered a moment with her sister before finally parting ways. A pale hand brushed the Beast's arm gingerly in passing before the tender owlet found her seat where the Family were welcome while Vesta had already found her place among the Tradesmen and was eagerly eyeing the food. As all this happened Scorpius did not move his gaze from his superiors and when his turn came he bowed reverently to them both, his eyes rising first to Salvia. "Good evening, my Queen."

Hand and maw were offered in a proper Salsolan greeting before he turned to Lokr and offered the same, a smile -- faint but there -- gracing his half scarred face as violent reds met virulent greens only briefly before settling upon his face. Good evening, my Lord." He complimented them both on their efforts in bringing everything and everyone together once again before excusing himself and finding his place among the Faction, the heavy oak chair the very same he had sat in many Suppers before.

Avatar by Eve; Siggy by Songbird

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Cazador, Veleno
Valar Morghulis

POSTED: Wed May 31, 2017 11:17 pm

To the waters and the wild

Stjarna had done much in preparation for the night's event but little of it was for herself. She had bathed and plaited her hair, deciding to add the tiara that Loki had given her at the last minute. She had no outfit to wear for she hadn't sought out anything made of cloth. In truth she didn't care for the feel of it. She had grown out of wearing her fur outfits as she no longer had anything of beauty which to accent. Still she needed something with which to hide her shame for she had recently lost the litter that she had been carrying. She had taken a spare fur and wrapped it about herself, hiding her torso away beneath it and not pretending to take on the attributes of the moose fur that she wore. She tied it on with a knot high on her chest and settled on that.

Her focus had been on helping her friend ready himself. She knew Loki had no need of her for he had done this often enough himself whereas this would be Skelmir's first time. She had set herself to the task of teaching him the culture of the Thistle Kingdom and what would be expected of him.

"Du må forlate disse her." She said when he tried to bring his shield and trident with him. "Her. Sett disse på." With that she handed off a pair of pants and a shirt that she had scavenged for him so that he would make a good impression. "Hvorfor?" The male asked as he looked over what he had been given. "Du må gjøre et godt inntrykk, gjør dem som deg." She explained and nudged him to get dressed. "Du har ikke på seg disse." He continued to fight against getting dressed. "De trenger ikke å like meg." She took back the shirt and held it open for him. "Bare sett den på. Vi kommer til å bli sent, og det er ikke bra." The male finally gave in and allowed himself to be dressed, though the clothing had a tight fit across the chest and the hips.

Once Skelmir had finally gotten dressed Stjarna set about fixing his hair. She tied most of it up loosely in the back but left out a single braid on the right side of his face. "Der. La oss gå." She didn't wait for any further protests but led the raider male away from Millstone Village and into the Ruins where the feast was being held.

She paused at the door so that she could instruct Skelmir as to what to do. "Du må hilse på hver av dem som jeg viste deg, og så sitter du der." She pointed out the part of the table at which Skelmir's rank would have him assigned. She continued to hang back in order to be able to watch her friend. His movements were awkward as he sought to greet both Salvia and Lokr in turn, lightly touching his nose to both cheeks of both of the leaders before making his way to take his spot at the table, his eyes seeking out Stjarna for her approval of his behavior.

The wolfdog woman gave him a light nod to show that he had done well and then made her own entrance. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her midsection even though there was no longer anything there to protect. Aslaug, Bjorn, Fiske, and Gerd had never even had a chance yet still Stjarna had felt compelled to give them names and a proper burial, one she had done on her own.

She greeted both the Boss and the Lord Commander before taking her place at the table. She was putting on a brave face for both Skelmir's and Loki's sake. With the former she had to act properly to show him what to do and with the latter, his reputation depended on it.

655 Words; Hopefully it is okay to assume Skelmir was accepted

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Luperci I FOUND THE BUNNIES Gold Soldier of Love

POSTED: Wed May 31, 2017 11:23 pm

Lin has no idea what she’s doing and neither does Neith HERE WE GO

Neith had, of course, learned of the occasional Last Supper, if only through gossip or the occasional hems and haws of memories between Isabella and Lillith at the outpost as he grew. His mothers both had once held high rank, and attended countless Suppers with due entitlement and recognition. He’d always known a part of them missed those whimsical traditions of Salsola proper while they toiled away at the outpost, but Neith never understood why. He fancied himself a fine meal like any other, but what was it about the renowned Last Supper that drew his mothers into whispers as if sensitive subjects should not reach his ears?

His arrival, apparently early, did not yet yield an answer. He dressed himself well, choosing his finest collared button-up, dark vest and slacks, and had Ondine assist him on his way out with an ascot to bring out his eyes. For two days in preparation Neith drank nothing but the teas supplied to him by his half-sister and Calla, dreading any chance of a migraine during an occasion and turning out fortunate and headache-free as he made his arrival.

To be among the first he saw as much a blessing as it was a curse; a blessing, in that he would without a doubt be seen and recognized by those who also prioritized timeliness and culture; and a curse, in that he would too have to make conversation with them and have little to hide behind but his lacking wit and subpar charm. Nevertheless, the Confidant bowed generously at the waist for his Queen and Lord Commander each, and showed the same respect for gentle Wraith, whom he recognized well; the black behemoth he vaguely knew as Jagermeister; and Stjarna, with whom he was favorably acquaintanced.

“My Queen and Lord Commander, I am honored at very long last to be here,” said Neith, straightening from elegant bow. “If there is any way I might assist you this evening, please do not hesitate to call on me. It would be my honor.”

His eyes might have lingered on the Lord Commander a moment too long, the Heiwa granted his first opportunity in many moons to get a half-decent look at him. Any number of thoughts could have crossed the Confidant’s mind, but each one went unspoken; Neith smiled, charming and gallant, and careful of his poise took his proper place.

whose eyes you gonna use?

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lost in the static

POSTED: Thu Jun 01, 2017 10:23 am

Maybe all of these things made me who I am

This would be a grand occasion, her grand re-entry into proper Salsolan culture. She had sequestered herself with her son's birth and further kept herself isolated when the sickness began to strike. Sacrifice and prayer eventually seemed to lead to success, and the Seer realized she had left herself out of the loop too long. Though she was not truly part of the Coven, it was likely high time that she joined them properly. Her rank may have given her the right to preside among them but it did not mean she had the title of witch.

Her mother helped get them all ready, mostly to make sure that the high ranking daughter was impeccable. Her clothes were neat, done with a decidedly restrained hand. It was a modest black gown, with little trim and excess, though the material was impeccably clean and neat. Her collar showed the necklace the Lord Commander had given her, swinging freely and openly over her black gown in bright contrast to the dark below. A black cloth choker at her neck had a small cut blue stone, though Ondine was not sure if it was real or an old human prop.

Her hair had been the showpiece, a crown of braids and cascading hair with pins that held little blue stones on the ends, though Ondine was very sure these were not real. Her mother weaved in black lace into her hair and braids, wrapping it through and without. It felt slightly heavy but it smelled of fragrant lilac. Isabella had even given her a series of golden bangles to drape on her wrists, just so that she glittered and clacked a little more profoundly.

They came to the meeting place and Ondine led them in. She went in boldly to their Thistle Queen and the Commander, bowing her head (mostly as the dress limited movement). "My Queen, My Lord," she greeted with a slight smile, waving a hand to her mother and gesturing to the pup in her arms. "My son, Krios," she presented, allowing her mother to come forward. "Boss, Commander," greeted the dark woman, gazing calmly at the woman she had served for so long, and the man she hated.

A simple greeting, but it was enough for the former Ambassador to bow out and take the young youth with her. Ondine, meanwhile, smiled at her brother when she saw him, but took her place close to the head of the table, with plenty of space for the Crone, who was her superior, after all.

Neith & Elektra can feel free to assume they got help if they want from Isa or Ondine c:

Ondine Heiwa
But I've been wondering, why can't you see? If the door opens up we go where it leads

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Luperci Mate to Janik
grim fandango
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frozen waltz
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Silent Quadrille

POSTED: Thu Jun 01, 2017 10:51 am

It hadn't just been Scourge and his uncle who had left for Portland, but all of them – his parents and Mandrake, packing things onto the white horse, seemed far more subdued than the trip called for. Grievous hadn't understood this moroseness and assumed it was due to them missing the Last Supper. They had been insistent that he and Misery attend in their absence.

Of course, this had meant a world of problems for Grievous, who was too small to fit his father's clothes and did not know proper decorum. He had admitted as much to O'Riley who (after laughing at him) had been of great assistance...insofar as getting him to the people who did help, like Stannis and Nickodemus, though the latter had very little of worth to offer besides the handsome sun-colored piece of smooth glass Grievous wore as a pendant. He had dressed only in a dark tunic accented by a leather belt, and his lack of goods made him feel very out of place among his elder peers. Everyone seemed to have more than he did, and this stuck in his throat like dried meat.

It wasn't right, to have come from so much and have nothing to show for it.

He was groomed well enough, of course, and had tended to his fur and hair so that it was presentable. After greeting his leaders as he had seen others do, Grievous quickly returned to nearer where his younger cousin was already sitting.

masks beneath masks until suddenly
the bare bloodless skull
The Equinest
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Luperci Mate to Idrieus
the fire rises

POSTED: Thu Jun 01, 2017 11:50 am

The Feasting Hall allured Katinka with its aroma of delectable meats and spirits, though she had only been away from the great table overflowing with the great variety of dishes she’d only heard stories about. It had been with great pride that she added to those platters and cups, pouring fluffy scrambled eggs into a small bowl and adding tiny selections of cheese next to the bloody-centered meats. These were small morsels, nothing in comparison to the main feast, but they were unique, a mark of what she had to offer.

She lingered only so long as to add these tidbits of food, then returned to Millstone to wash and don proper attire for her first Last Supper.

She wore deep navy dress, knee-length, with a lace jacket—and put her long braids up in elaborate coils around her head. Her fur was brushed to softness, and scented subtly with soaps (which she was careful to scrub her food-smelling hands with). She looked proper, someone from good wealth and breeding, if not as elaborately adorned as some of the Salsolans would certainly be.

She fidgeted in the small shack, looking into a cracked hand-mirror, suddenly uncertain—until a dark face appeared in that reflection, and a weight dropped between her breasts.

“A girl as fine as you should wear gold,” Khael said, clasping the necklace at the nape of her neck, where her fur stood on end. Katinka tilted the mirror to admire the golden droplet then turned to look at the dark jackal woman, flushed and curious. Khael’s hair was neat, if not very styled, and she wore a dark embroidered kaftan along with flashes of gold of her own: necklace, ring, anklet. She was smiling like a cat.

They spoke quietly about the decorum expected of them as they approached the hall, where they were quick to greet the leaders: Katinka doing so warmly and openly, and Khael with her usual composed front. The coyjackal paused to adjust a stray hair by Tink’s temple before she slunk toward the end of the table, and Tink found her own seat with the other Confidants, offering Neith a playful grin as she noticed her scrambled eggs sat nearby.
The Warden (NPC)
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Luperci Mate to Katinka

POSTED: Thu Jun 01, 2017 2:42 pm

Tradition mandated that Salsolans primp and pamper themselves, dressed in immaculate finery, and make a prompt entrance.

Keeping in line with this, Indra spent much of the afternoon ensuring that both Ros and herself were groomed to exacting standards. The Badb’s short mane was combed straight while damp but turned to shimmering waves when dry, and she dressed him in what could be considered a pauper’s clothes at first glance; a white shirt and leather pants, nothing special.

Unless one looked closer and discovered the immaculate weave of the shirt and the fact that the pants were, in fact, lambskin. Soft and supple to the touch, the craftsmanship was evident in the minute stitches. She rolled the sleeves of his silk shirt up to the top of his forearms and left it open at the collar, adding his moss pendant as a finishing touch. Both canines smelled of bog laurel, pine, and wintergreen.

And you? Ros wondered aloud when he was done, and Indra tilted her head a little.

Ah, He grinned suddenly. I should have known.

Having missed her first Supper due to certain circumstances, Indra considered this her formal return to society, albeit not a civilized one, as many might expect.

Ros carefully braided her still-dripping hair with his quick fingers, grabbing the front sections and bringing creating a loop that finished at the back of her head. The rest of her hair was unbound, spilling down her back nearly to the base of her spine. White and gold, it contrasted nicely with the dark saddle.

She wore no clothing, but clasped the gold antler pendant about her neck and slid two moonstone arm cuffs until they were snug around her biceps. With this, her preparations were complete. The festal hall would be full of those who’d worn their best clothing, often in bright or offensive colors, and she had purposefully chosen to go in the opposite direction.

Her scar was obvious, as was the bottom of her tattoo. A snake was eating its own tail, and just above it — though partially obscured by her mane — was a raven’s footprint.

They walked close enough that their shoulders brushed now and then.

Entering quietly, Indra sat in the furthest seat designated for Family members, allowing Ros to seat himself next to her as an Associate. Nodding to her grandmother and father, she leaned back into the seat.

It was a peculiar feeling, entering the hall unarmed.

The Tradesman (NPC)
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Luperci Milite The Stag is Reborn
bad blood
archimedes' lever

POSTED: Fri Jun 02, 2017 2:05 am

You're still a soldier in your mind though nothing's on the line
000 woah this came out bigger than i expected sorry dawgs. also hella assumptions I'm sorry Libri I will make every edit for you babe <3 <3

It was difficult to let Violeta go when the bed was warm and the rest of the pack was preoccupied with the Supper. She was strikingly beautiful, standing with the sunlight to frame her goldspun hair, and he told her this many times hoping she might forsake formality to lay about with him. But when she'd kissed him and let her fingers deliberately graze his right arm, he was reminded that it was cowardice at the heart of his desire. Time had healed all but his wounded pride.

Violeta wouldn't push him to attend social functions until he was ready, but another person would. It was the return of a fierce young princess that had heartened him some, or at the very least shed light onto his own self pity. He rose later, after his wife had gone, determined to attend this Last Supper with the confidence of a man who fought and not of a man who lost.

Rafael had just finished buttoning his doublet (a process that took twice as long without his wife to help) when the door to the Watchtower cracked open. The visitor considered the dim interior before opening the door all the way, confirming for him that it was not the Winters child, who would push through the threshold without a second thought.

Lilia, by contrast, was a surprisingly thoughtful girl. She had the means to dress as ostentatiously as her Onuban heritage would allow, but she had come to the Watchtower garbed in a simple tunic. Rafael was pleased to see that she had elected a style more befitting her status as an Associate. It would have been arrogant otherwise.

He walked over and clasped her shoulder with his hand, and she leaned forward in Salsola's ritual greeting. The tunic underneath his palm was a good material, soft and well-stitched. Like Lilia, it seemed a very simple thing until he got close enough to see its true quality.

I meant to tell you the expectations, he began, but his niece smiled wryly and waved off his neglect. His duty to sponsor her had unfortunately been lost among the shuffle since returning from war.

A Warden has better things to worry about than what his niece ought to wear to dinner. Is my lovely aunt in? She leaned around him to peer inside.

No, she's gone ahead. Shall we catch up? He offered her his arm. She looped her hand around gently and smiled up at him with a look that was distinctly his brother's.

The hall had already begun to fill by their arrival, though it was not nearly full. The feast was a delectable display of opulence as much as power; these were the ways in Onuba as well, and it felt familiar for the well bred Salcedos.

He had not worn his sword since the battle that took his hand, and its place at his side made him feel awkward and encumbered. It was his belief that a sword which could not be used was a simple prop, and any who wore it a charlatan. He began to feel a heat in his face, and if not for his niece, he might have turned away right then to go brood in his tower. She stopped him at the threshold then, and with another look evoking his brother, she detached Sin Luna from his belt.

Everyone already knows you are a great swordsman, Uncle. She told him. Let me wear this tonight. As an Associate, I am the one who has something to prove.

He watched as she tied the rapier to her waist belt. With a sword like Sin Luna, no one will mind my humble attire.

The words wouldn't come to him, but she seemed to know them all the same. She smiled at him once it was affixed properly, and then clasped his hand in the old way, the Onuban way. He watched her stride ahead, a quiet figure against a backdrop of extravagance.

Lilia had smoothly adopted Salsolan customs into her social vocabulary, and with easy grace came to greet her Superiors and find her place at the far end of the table. Rafael merely gave the same stiff bow that he always did, and sat himself among the Central Ring to dutifully await his wife.

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Luperci Milite Mate to Violeta bbleeearrrrghhhhhh
cave canem
damnatio ad bestias

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