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? :)

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.

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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? :)

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.

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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?”

POSTED: Fri Jan 18, 2019 12:40 am

"Miriette."

It was a very pretty name, one that suited her accent well. Tora didn't even bother to try and pronounce it, already knowing that he would butcher it. R's were the bane of his existence. They didn't exist in his native Japanese so he had never learned how to pronounce them. The Vidame wondered what he dance partner meant by many names. Were they simple nicknames, or aliases? She was strangely mysterious, giving him more questions than answers. He reciprocated the playful squeeze with a gentle one of his own, the intense heat of the huge bonfire alternating from side of his face to the next as the pair spun round.

He was almost uncomfortable, his heavy robe and gloves certainly not needed this close to the flames. Oh well. How could he have known he would receive an invitation to dance next to a roaring fire? Tora nearly stepped back in surprise when the golden furred woman stepped closer to him, not expecting it when she brought her head down from her apparent enrapture to take in his scent. He carried the scent of his pack, salt and sawdust mixing with grass and flowers, but the mixture was overpowered by his own, a mix of the oil he used to clean his swords and the herbs he tended to in his free time, with just a hint of charcoal.

"My name is Toraberā Tanaka." he explained, deftly spinning the pair around jagged rock that jutted from the snow. Most people just call me Tora. Use whichever you prefer." He fell silent, simply enjoying their strange dance. He had never danced without music before, it took some getting used to. "Miriette? Why do you wear a mask?" he finally asked.

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POSTED: Sun Jan 27, 2019 5:10 pm

They danced and spun, and Miriette toyed with the length of fur that gathered at the base of his neck. The crackling flame punctuated each of their words, and when they finally drew still she smiled up at him and ran a finger along the edge of his strong jaw. All men were wonderful things – roughly hewn from mountains or dredged up from the bottom of the sea – they were jewels as multi faceted as the many-faced god, and Miriette desired to know each and every one.

”You come from across the sea?” The flames roared as if in response, and the heat around them continued to dance and spit. ”Where do you come from now Tora?”

”I wear a mask to communicate with the ethereal.” Her eyes changed as a smile blossomed across her features, ”My God will see only what I present to it.” She tapped the edge of her mask and leaned closer toward him, ”This mask is special.” They began to dance again, and this time she took the lead – allowing the man to follow her as her fingers crept to encircle his shoulders. He was broad and strong, the musculature warm against the palm of her hands.

She grinned, ”Just like you.”

As sparks danced in the smoke she pressed in close – nudging the edge of her mask so that he could properly see her face.

POSTED: Mon Jan 28, 2019 12:50 am

Tora had been treating his encounter with his new acquaintance as nothing more than a chance offer, an innocent gesture from one stranger to another. The pretty wolf dog had struck him as a bit odd but mostly harmless, simply an eccentric loner inviting him to seek shelter from the cold. But her actions and gestures seemed to suggest otherwise. He carefully swung them about the roaring flames of the bonfire as he tried to piece together the meaning of her finger running gently along his jaw. Was she coming on to him? Or was he simply just so genuinely starved of close affection of any kind that he was reading too much into a meaningless act? It was hard to tell, Tora's ability to read people almost permanently damaged after more than a year spent without close relations with anyone except the small raccoon back at his home in the Court.

The well built wolf simply nodded in response to Miriette's question, noticing the sudden flare of heat from her fire. It was as if the bonfire itself was an active member of the conversation, voicing its opinions with the crackle of burning wood and sharing its thoughts with flickering light it cast around the clearing. Tora shrugged his robe from his broad shoulders and kicked it behind him without losing step. It was no longer needed, he was certainly more than warm. It was safely out of reach of the hungry fire, but he eyed the embers coming from the third entity. They didn't seem like they would get close to the buffalo hide, or at least he hoped they wouldn't.

"Yes, Japan. Now? I live in the Court, or the Cour des Miracles as they call it.

Tora nodded again when she explained the use of her mask, smiling politely. The idea of communicating with the ethereal and some God not anything he believed in personally but he certainly wasn't going to disparage the idea to her face. People were entitled to whatever beliefs they wanted, it wasn't his place to judge. Besides, he had no idea about the afterlife or if there even was one. For all he knew, he was the fool for not wearing a mask and connecting with ghosts. He didn't know if the mask was special or not but he could appreciate its simple beauty.

As he began to follow her lead he opened his mouth to compliment the earthy color it was dyed with when she pressed in close to him and held onto his shoulders. The words died on his lips as he was taken by surprise by the gentle compliment Miriette had managed to get out before him. "Well, uh, I- thank you." Tora managed to stutter out, another shy smile decorating his face. When the mask was nudged aside he took in her face with interest, her countenance now exposed so he properly see.

"It's not often I meet someone as interesting as you out here." the man said easily, his moment of awkward confusion quickly forgotten. "You're quite unique, Miriette."

Wordcount:522
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POSTED: Thu Jan 31, 2019 12:42 pm

As a woman of the Nights Heart it had always been impressed upon her to reveal herself in pieces. Perhaps it was a nod to the future of her order - to the many-faced god and the way with which she interacted with them. The masks revealed only what she bade them to, and with time it became as much a part of her as the impossible belief that one day they would find her.

With the flames roaring alongside them Miriette Hatzi tossed her head, allowing her fingers to tow with the hair that gathered at the base of Tora's neck. He came from a place that sounded peaceful and bright - and it garnered a flickering smile that matched the sheen to her eyes. "A Court of Miracles?" She made a humming sound pensively, "What is the miracle? Do you live on hallowed ground?"

Miracles were impossibly vast and incredibly small.

Perhaps they has seen fit to claim it for themselves. The groups that she has stumbled upon were begging to be reborn into a new world - just as she has when the red star had come to fall upon earth in fire and stone. Miriette could still remember the trembling beneath her feet and the way the sky had lit with ash and smoke - and it was then that she had understood there was something bigger than all this and it was calling to her.

It has taken her months to stumble upon. The preacher, but when she had found him it had been as if they had been singing the same wonderful song.

Miriette hummed again, tilting her head to peer up at Tora with an unabashed grin.

"Why thank you messir."

Her ears twitched as if responding to the fire which rose silently into the darkening sky. "Do you hear that?" Her body straightened, "They are calling me and so I must go."

She dropped her hands and took a step away from him, gathering the folds of her cloak so that when she curtsied to him it rose around her like a fan. Then with little warning she grasped his face with both hands, smoothing the velvet of his cheeks and kissing his deeply.

With a toothy smile she spun away from him and ducked into the wood.

"Enjoy the fire." Her eyes were molten, and she peered one last time over her shoulder.

"Don't forget me Toraberā Tanaka."

And with that she was gone.

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