there is magic in this night

POSTED: Wed Jan 02, 2019 3:43 am

It had all started by accident. Miriette had awaken at her camp alone and terribly cold, and so she had gone about collecting pieces of kindling and long sticks to grow her fire. The need for it itched like a splinter against a palm, and she roamed further and further afield – returning only when she had collected enough wood to fill the front of her sagging shawl.

When she returned, she dumped her new collection alongside her tiny flickering flame – and with a gleeful expression began to arrange the wood around the fire, nursing it with a gentle song that encouraged it to spring to life. The fire cracked the wood, splitting it in two so that sparks danced and glittered upon the air.

Her violet eyes glowed with the embers – and she continued to stoke the flames until the heat of the thing was too much and she was forced to step away. Her midnight-blue robes hung from her arms in billowy sleeves, her grin similar to the expression that she had worn during the great burning of Fiskebyn Village.

She quietly sorted through the masks that hung from her hip and pulled a leather mask onto her face. It was shiny and smooth, a prettily dyed creation that was ochre and bright against her pale face. Miriette leaned heavier boughs into the fire until it billowed and licked curious tongues of flame toward the new moon – and she revelled in the beauty of it keenly.

”Thank you.” She whispered, ignoring the nervous bellow of her horse as it wove between the trees.

Miriette is creating a bonfire! Want to come party with crazy? :)

Loners
Wolfdog
User avatar
Amanda
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jan 03, 2019 10:08 pm

OOC: Apologies for the longer post, I'm trying to completely SoSu so I'm trying to make each post count. Don't feel compelled to match it if you don't want to!

Tora hated this kind of weather, a brutally cold winter morning with absolutely no snow. He enjoyed winter because it brought down piles of the flaky white stuff from the heavens that he could run through and catch of his tongue and make snowmen out out of just generally relive his happy memories of being a pup seeing the world frosted with white for the first time. Cold was a necessary ingredient for snow, so he tolerated it. But being able to see his own breath and walk across the frozen surface of lakes and rivers without any snow? That just made him cold and miserable.

What was the point? Cold by itself wasn't fun, all it did was bite through your clothes and fur and dig into your very bones until you couldn't feel your fingers and toes. He supposed he was luckily, he was a Grey Wolf after all. His thick coat of fur protected him much more than some of the thin-furred dogs and coyotes he knew. But being better off didn't mean he couldn't feel the harsh nip of frost in the area. If only there was some snow, then he'd be happy!

Drawing his warm buffalo hide robe tighter around his body with his gloved hands (and sending out a silent thanks to the pack of coyotes who had given the items to him on his trek across the Great Plains) Tora continued onward, wordlessly trudging through the freezing cold. After nearly two hours of walking he was starting to hallucinate. He could've sworn he heard a fire!

But it didn't seem like a hallucination. The telltale crackle of dead wood popping and burning seemed to real, his noise twitching at the acrid smell of smoke. Curiously the warrior wolf followed the scent until he saw the dancing yellow and red of a bonfire illuminating the trees. Near the flames he spied a horse and its master, a fellow Luperci of indeterminable age and species, not too young and not too old and seemingly a hybrid of some kind. What intrigued him most was the hybrid's mask. It certainly was pretty, a delightful creation leather and dye. But why was she wearing it? Was there something to hide?

Determined to investigate and wanting respite from the cold Tora made his way closer, calling out out to the other canine. "Hello there! Quite a large fire you've made." His English was perfect but his accent was heavy, a clear sign that he was not originally from the area.

Wordcount: 432
Cour des Miracles
Vidame
Smike
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Jan 09, 2019 2:49 am

There was magic on the air and it crackled beneath her feet as she spun and spun and spun. Miriette glittered golden against the twitching flames, the remnants of her skirt twirling about her as she honored her ancient god. It was in times like these that she forgot the far-flung remnants of her past. She forgot Gabriel, forgot the tiny bundle of gold that she had abandoned in an effort to reclaim her centre.

She tried not to think of the tiny girl as much as possible – and buried the memory of her deep within the coals of the fire that roared before her.

The dancing pulled her in beautiful ways, and she felt tears glisten upon the edges of her violet eyes before they were seared away by the heat of the flames. Miriette danced until she could no longer feel her feet – but it was the voice that drew her from her reverie, and almost instantly she brought herself to a slowly swaying stop, her long sleeves rippling at her sides.

He was a handsome man, the one that called to her. He had eyes that were a perfect periwinkle blue, his brows dusted in greys and browns that followed the crown of his head and disappeared into the rick ruff of fur that surrounded his face. His hair was pulled back into a neat club, though some pieces of it peeked out around his cheeks.

Miriette giggled at his words, lifting the edges of her dress so that she could curtsy to him properly. There was an accent to his English – one that immediately peeked her interest beyond the broad set of his jaw. Her own accent lilted French, her words leaping through the air like a song.

”Thank you Monsieur.” The mask cast shadows into her eyes so that each time the fire twisted it made them sparkle brightly, ”Would you like to dance?”

She held out her hand in invitation.

Miriette is creating a bonfire! Want to come party with crazy? :)

Loners
Wolfdog
User avatar
Amanda
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Jan 09, 2019 11:40 pm

He felt almost guilty interrupting her, those dancing feet moving in time to silent music while her body followed rhythmically. She was clearly enjoying herself with her fire serving as a shield from the cold and the silent morning her companion. But he did anyway, the woman's billowing blue robes drifting back down around her arms. Just as he was being evaluated he was sizing the stranger up himself. He assumed she was a loner, he had been around long enough to have memorized the scents of the major packs and she didn't smell like any of them. He could see her captivatingly pretty violet eyes through her burnished leather mask now she faced him, his gaze wordlessly drifting down her midnight blue clothing to the collection of masks at her waist.

Tora cocked an eyebrow questioningly at her almost musical giggling, a hand scratching at his neck as he considered the situation. Whatever response he had expected to come from her, that wasn't it. He couldn't see the humor in his greeting. Perhaps it was his clothing, he was dressed in a more eccentric manner than many. But then again, he wasn't the one wearing a mask to disguise his features. Maybe it was his accent?

But when she answered it was with an accent of her own. French, if he had to guess. He was confirmed by her calling him Monsieur. One of the crew of the ship that carried him from his home had been French and referred to the captain of the vessel as such. His eyes flicked between the fire-casted shadows in her eyes and the proffered hand, taking it with his own gloved one. He knew nothing about this woman but that intrigued him more than it bothered him. He was curious about her, and if a dance was what it took for him to learn more than dance he would.

He wasn't used to dancing without any music but he managed to lead, his starting steps quickly transitioning into a series of flowing movements partly mirroring what he had witnessed her doing and partly of his own invention. Dancing was similar to swordplay for him, both depended on the footwork of both parties. "What's your name?" he asked with interest, leading the pair in a meandering circle around the crackling roar of the bonfire.

Wordcount:399
Cour des Miracles
Vidame
Smike
Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jan 12, 2019 9:40 pm

Miriette was a woman of few inhibitions. The many face god which she prayed to each night was the only thing for which she performed – but when she met mere mortals there was a hint of playfulness in all that she did. The dance which bloomed beneath her feet was a story – an ode to her past and the bright future that they had chosen for her. Before meeting The Preacher she had worked in the Coeur du Nuit with the hope that one day she would be able to buy back her marque.

Her pale nose twitched as the man stepped closer, and she couldn’t help the toothy grin that grew to envelope her beautiful features. ”I have many names,” She had taken his large hands up in hers and gave them a playful squeeze as he began to lead her in slow circles around the roiling flames, ”But you may call me Miriette.” It was a name that had been passed down to her by her matron – the name given to her by her mother lost the moment she had been abandoned.

It was a cruel cycle that her blood line had begun, as abandonment transcended generations.

She could still see the tiny face of her daughter – a beautiful golden child who had been born with his face. Miriette dreamed of her sometimes, but they were shadowy and cold; versions of a daughter that she had never had the chance to know. The leather around her eyes cast shadows against her cheeks that had her eyes flashing brightly as another log caught fire, and she threw back her head to revel in the heat that flared against them as they danced.

The long tresses of her hair curled against her shoulders, and she stepped closer to the man so that she could taste the scent of him on her tongue.

With a chuff she tilted her head to gaze up at him, ”And who may you be?”

Loners
Wolfdog
User avatar
Amanda
Luperci

Sticks and Stones