Re: the thistle and the burr

Last Supper - Mandatory Pack Thread

POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 7:50 pm

Waiting only for supplies, something which seemed would be sent for soon now that the rain was finally abating, the projects within Salsola went on as best they could. Grievous longed to have order restored to his new home but could not behave as if this disruption bothered him as much as it did. He found excuses to be elsewhere when too many people crowded about, though he was growing to tolerate the young man his fiance seemed to take on as a pseudo-apprentice.

He didn't entirely look like a fighter, but he kept coming around and so Grievous assumed he might one day become one.

His own duties kept him busy, for the horses needed food and to stretch their legs and many of the younger animals were reaching the age where handling them was necessary. Each day Grievous worked over and over again until lessons stuck, and even then he was forced to repeat them for stubborn animals. The stupid ones barely rebelled, but some...

Getting the horse-smell out of his fur had taken a long time, but with soap and salty lake water the worst of the must was scrubbed clean. He did very little beyond this, though dressed simply. Idrieus wore the same dress she always did. Grievous thought she looked stunning in it.

They did not need to walk far to the feasting hall but did not tarry, arriving early enough to greet his cousins and split from Idrieus so they could find their places at the table. Grievous was content to gaze at his fiance from further down from her seat, which by now wasn't that far from him at all. The whole building was warm from the cooking fires, bodies, and lit torches, but a cool breeze came through the open-air above their heads and the good smells of roasted meat and other delectables was worth dressing up and presenting himself to the public.

masks beneath masks until suddenly
the bare bloodless skull
Ranger Apprentice
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POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 8:07 pm

Not a drop of wine had passed her lips and Morgana already felt intoxicated. She found her composure hard to maintain as she prepared, and laughed to herself as she brushed her fur and combed her hair. Little by little she worked serenity back into her face and settled on what to wear.

The clothing was formal, and elegant. It was all pale buckskin, soft and supple and cut to accent her curves and her narrow waist. Braiding had been done to create straps and tie off behind her back, where the piece came together in an intricate knot. Of many beads and other fringe sewn or tied onto this dress, most were amber-colored. To an untrained eye (and perhaps even a trained one) they might have been the real thing.

All her jewelry was gold and amber too, save one fresh blood-red polished stone with a dark and terrible flaw at its center. This unblinking eye stared from where it rested against her chest, between the curve of her breasts.

Morgana came alone and took great effort to greet the tall Erilaz and her dear cousin, whom she fawned over ever-so-more-than-usual before turning to the long table. The Hall had never looked so full, but Morgana was envisioning other things even as she went to find her own place among the gathering mass.

The Warden
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Luperci Witch Silver Scales & Silver Blood
light as a feather
stiff as a board

POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 9:16 pm

They dressed together before every Supper: crossing their room to find combs and bows and clasps, holding fabric against each other, removing cats and their hair from the affair, fastening jewelry around wrists and necks. Sometimes there was chatter, speculation, especially in the wake of disturbing events—but for the past few days, Khael had been even more silent than was characteristic of her.

There was a tension in Khael. Tink could feel it when the woman helped her select dresses that would cover her thighs, or in the hot breath on the back of her neck when she tied a knot in the subdued twine jewelry.

Rumors and scent trails told a story. Katinka didn't need to ask what was on her mind.

They arrived dressed in their usual garb, Khael's dark kaftan contrasted with hints of gold on her neckline and wrists. If anything, Katinka's outfit was more drab, but this only higlighted out the milky-gold of her hair, the cerulean of her eyes. She hung onto Khael's arm and said nothing until they greeted the Mafiosi, then followed Khael to their seats.

Khael pulled the chair out for her. Her hands traced the back of it, contemplative, and then she leaned down and gave Tink a kiss on the side of her muzzle. She leaned her dark nose against the wolfdog's, possessive, then made her way around to her own seat, raising her chin at the other Wardens: ember eyes sliding poisonously over Jaketta, before they turned with disinterest at the boy beside her.

but between my soft hands they die.
The Warden
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Luperci Mate to Katinka
in her eyes were embers

POSTED: Fri May 17, 2019 7:24 am

OOC - Mekhl, Spartacus, & Dirge are with Till. WC: 1067

Breathe in, Think, Listen

"Father, do you think that mother might need some help?" the youth asked as he braided Till's long hair against his head, where the long hair that framed his face was pulled back in uncomfortably tight braids along the side of his head and then the ends placed in the middle of the back of his head. It had occurred to both the Ulrichs that Till might need a haircut, but Till had only let the Red Witch's youth near his hair for some time. The patriarch did not like getting his hair cut, but he did like the extra attention that Dirge had been giving him lately. It was odd, the way that Dirge had come back under Till's wing, and he wondered why that had been the case when he had been so devoted to Helena for so long.

"I believe that your mother has enough on her hands with the girls, and Julius." he told Dirge outright, knowing that Julius was always there when the Last Suppers came around. The girls had come of age now, just as Spartacus had too, and because of this, the mother had spent a bit of time with the girls, getting them all pretty and dressed up for the event. Till, himself, had spent some time getting Spartacus into his suit, consisting of a dark green tunic, and a pair of dark pants. Around his shoulders, he wore a hood, dyed black, and around his waist he wore a leather belt. The boy did not argue the outfit, but it had been much simpler than his father's outfit that was dyed lavender clothing with the white feather shoulder mantle and pastel cape that draped down behind him. Till had formerly explained to the youth that all of his brothers had their own style, and that Spartacus was destined for archery, as he had been distinctly a sighthound breed. He needed to blend in with his surroundings, and these tunics were nice enough to wear to the Last Supper for his first time. The next time, would bring new clothing, for it would likely be one in which he found himself in adulthood and he would be crowned of the Family rather than a Bambino as he still was.

"Will I get a cool feather mantle like you, father? Did you get that when you became Family?" asked the innocent boy, who was greeted with a pat on his dark head and a smile from his father. "No, I got this long after I had become a man, my son. But, I can see what we can do to get you something cool to wear for next Supper." he told the boy as he continued to get ready and as Dirge had finished up with the patriarch's hair and then moved on to his own room to get his own outfit on. Till fixed Spartacus' hair and kissed his little diamond marked forehead before he fixed the boy's hood, and he fiddled with the tunic that was ill fitted for the boy. Till thought of if he could get something that hugged the boy's frame a bit more, but he did not know if he had something that was small enough. Till contemplated this up until Dirge had come back into the room, and instead of asking Dirge if he had anything small enough, Till had decided that the outfit was good enough for now.

"Have you checked on your brother yet? You know him, he might be sleeping and not even getting ready." Till asked Dirge, who looked as if he had not checked on Mekhl, and he also had not heard any rustling in his room. Dirge shook his head and disappeared again behind Till's room door and he went to Mekhl's room to be sure that the other male was ready. He was not ready by any means, but Mekhl knew that if Dirge was coming to get him, then the others were likely to be ready to go now, if not that then soon. Till waited only a bit longer before starting out to the pens with the horses, where he and Spartacus got the two horses ready for a ride, and once they were ready, Mekhl and Dirge finally showed up.

"Mekhl, you get to walk." the Patriarch said as he looked his boy in the eyes and he groaned loudly. "It's your own fault, you made us late." he told the blooming male as he mounted on Maschine's back and then helped his youngest get onto the back of the stallion. Maschine nickered lightly under the weight but bared it well enough. The boy was still light enough to carry but soon Till figured that he would need a horse of his own. Dirge celebrated silently as he mounted Till's new horse, Tal, and they all finally set off towards the Feasting Hall.

Truth was, it was not a long ride, nor a long walk, and before they knew it, they were there. Till whispered amongst the ears of his children and pointed where they all should sit, and he specifically left Mekhl to watch Spartacus while Till went to sit amongst the other Wardens - all of whom he seemed to dislike besides Ankh, whom sat among them. Till and his collective greeted the Mafiosi before they went to their respective seats. Till made one last pit stop to greet his wife and mutter something in her ear before he left her side and once Till found a seat next to Ankh, he smiled at the pale man and engaged in light conversation.

Phobos, while he was not a slave anymore, still helped with Serving the table, and once Till got to his seat, he filled the man's goblet with the blackberry wine. Till smiled to him and squeezed his arm in thanks before he looked back to his Angel of Death and he smiled widely. "The boar was caught by me and O'Riley you know, a mean sucker he was. Not so much after we caught it, though!" he laughed after this and loudly spoke to Ankh, so that Julius could hear him across the table, bragging about how he and O'Riley were hunting partners, and how they had caught the pig.

"Dirge Speaks", "Spartacus Speaks"

The wind whispers to you - Exhale, Think, Feel

'Cause we were always alone, We were born in the hunter's season
All I really ever wanted was for you to die in the arms of someone
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The Henchman
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Luperci Witch & Cazador

POSTED: Sat May 18, 2019 8:05 pm

300 *arrives 15 minutes late with starbucks*

Her own preparations for the Last Supper were swift and precise; surgical. The balance of her time was spent not on dressing, but cleaning—her hair, her fur, the clothes themselves—until everything was spotless. Anything that was in disarray, such as the loose bun she’d thrust her voluminous hair into, was artfully done. Disheveled perhaps to the untrained eye, but intriguing among a sea of those who would polish themselves until they shone tonight. A perceived flaw (if that was indeed what it was) would attract attention through its dissimilarity.

When it came to clothing, Clementine wore familiar colors. Those that knew her understood her affinity for white (or cream, as it so often was, what with pure white being difficult to find), and so her dress would not come as a terrible surprise but for the relative lightness to it. It was not an unseemly thing, close-cut and tailored to her, but pretty and practical. For now it was youthful, but in the coming year alterations could be made that would make it otherwise.

If anything was different it was not the ring she wore on her right pointer finger, which was a constant companion, but her scarf. Having always favored various furs, this was nonetheless a new thing, set aside especially for this occasion solely for the way it lay. Her mother had taken exceptional care in skinning the animal responsible for providing it, and a buckled collar held it place.

All this aside, her arms and legs were bare, allowing her to quickly help her friend prepare for the Supper. It felt odd to be ready; to have been ready for a good portion of the day. Donating time to such a cause, however, was important. She’d brought the clothes earlier, and now it was time and enough to show Wisteria how to wear them.

They made small talk and walked purposefully but swiftly to the gathering place… or, Wisteria did, because Clem turned back halfway there, having forgotten something. Her long legs afforded her speed, however, and she returned before anyone had a chance to miss her properly. Accompanying her first ring was a second one on the same hand, but on her largest finger, its cousin in make and style if not color.

After offering the kiss of greeting to her aunt and her second, she went to find her place amongst the other Tradesmen, and upon finding herself the youngest of them by perhaps a month or two, smiled a little to herself.

Last Suppers were famous for their high drama; betrothals could be announced tonight, or ranks usurped, and with the recent conclusion of Delfina’s trial still on her mind, she eyed the antlered crown and wondered.

The Tradesman
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light of the North

POSTED: Sat May 18, 2019 11:40 pm

As the hall filled, O'Riley watched each face that came forward. He did his best to remember everyone by name. If he could not he would wait until it was said elsewhere and then repeat it. Connecting to the people was important for a ruler. They needed to inspire confidence in the Family, and O'Riley was driven by the desire for order.

All this food, all this spectacle, it was meant to appease them and stroke the Kingdom's collective ego.

Eventually the mass began to settle. The feasting would begin soon enough, and indeed goblets were being filled and emptied and eager fingers snatching snacks as they waited for the Kingdom to arrive. O'Riley shifted from foot to foot as the hour drew on, but they did not need to wait terribly long for Salsola's Family to fill the hall. He caught sight of Igor helping his father settle in and take his own seat, and saw Nickodemus muttering something to the foreign woman-servant from his own position at the table next to Igor.

When it seemed likely they had all arrived, O'Riley and Elphaba returned to their own chairs. His eyes roamed the many faces looking back and he felt the same rush – like looking down from a very tall place and imagining the fall – as he bore the demands of all these fierce, ambitious people.

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
caveat emptor
the magnitude of choice

POSTED: Mon May 20, 2019 7:39 am

OOC - Sebastien is with Coaxoch. Nephele would already be at the Supper, waiting for Coaxoch and Seb.WC: 783

How did I live in a kingdom of thieves,

It would be a lie to say that Coaxoch was completely satisfied with the way that things had been handled between himself, his father, Elphaba, and Andrew within the last few weeks. While there was a weight that was taken off of his shoulders with the admittance of Till's innocence, there were things that still bothered him about the whole thing. Mostly about how Andrew got off seemingly scott free, with his only punishment being to do Coaxoch a favor with fixing whatever building structure Coaxoch needed. There was also the itch in his shoulders with how Elphaba had treated them both, how she thought them stupid to have qualms with the man that they both called enemy on the battlefield no more than a year prior. Coax was suspicious of the male's favoritism, his feigned loyalty, and when he would strike out and try to harm one of his fellow packmates. Coaxoch had no faith in the conditioning that Andrew had gone with while he was with Helena. Moreso, Coaxoch did not trust the entire situation at all. There was something that had been done that was not being said, that was secret, hiding under the surface of dead forest green eyes.

Coaxoch had been back to his old haunts, and because of his devotion to his craft, he had been holed up in his potions' shack up until he had realized that the night would come upon them and that tonight was a night in which the Last Supper was to take place. Some weeks ago he had also gone with his father outside of Salsola to go on a small trading trip that consisted of him getting clothing for his growing children, while Till did the same. They had been fruitful and Coaxoch had come back with some simple clothing for both Evelyn and Eden for their first Last Supper. He let them get ready themselves, as he had already been running late when he had jumped up from his chair and rushed from his shack to the Church's door. He flung the door open and rushed in a moment later, to Sebastien's surprise. "You should have come and gotten me, Bun!" Coaxoch spoke offhandedly as he moved past the male, who followed behind Coaxoch as they walked down the hallway towards their shared bedroom. "You've yelled at me for bothering you in there before. I was going to give you another few minutes before I came and got you." Sebastien retorted at Coaxoch as they walked into their room and Sebastien looked at the outfit that he had prepared for Coaxoch, and Coaxoch sighed back at him as his bright spring colored eyes looked from Sebastien to the outfit and back.

"Thank you for getting an outfit ready." he sighed in relief as he started with stripping the loincloth from his waist and he grabbed his pants and tried to get his legs through the pant legs without help, but once Sebastien saw him struggle, the autumn pelted male jumped in and helped with a bright blush forming across his pale face. Coaxoch saw the blush and felt his own face heat up too as Sebastien helped him and even buttoned him up and everything. "I would have gotten it eventually..." Coaxoch commented and Sebastien scoffed. "Yeah like ten years from now you would have." he retorted yet again and they both started to laugh. Sebastien was right, Coaxoch would have taken much too long if he didn't have the help.

Coaxoch and Sebastien got ready as fast as they could, and once they were ready, they made their way towards the Ruins, hoping that they would not be so late as to miss the dinner. Boy, did it take them a lot of time to get there as well.

They entered the hall and most of the other Family members had already found their seats and began to drink their fill. Nephele was even standing in front of a chair that she designated for Coaxoch, as it was close enough to his family, but far from anyone he did not want to be around. Coaxoch rushed to the spot, only giving a shallow bow to Elphaba and O'Riley as he settled along the rest of the Tradesmen and he put his head down. Nephele moved out of the way while Sebastien took his own spot behind Coaxoch's chair, where they both lingered idly as they waited for the feast to begin.

It had seemed that Sebastien did not feel comfortable sitting along the other Serfs, or he had simply forgotten that he was no longer indebted to the Ulrich Clan.

with people who say things they don't really mean

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The Tradesman
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This World Keeps Twisting

POSTED: Mon May 20, 2019 5:34 pm


OOC Here

Kaeli, or rather the Henchman as they were supposed to refer to her as, was quick in taking on her task as their sponsors to the kingdom. She had been meeting with both of them as they were settling into Millstone. Saint had been updating the jackal of his living arrangements, speaking of the male he was now sharing a home with. He didn't know why he was humoring the hound with listening to him ramble on. His goal had been accomplished in finding his sister's home, so there was not much reason for them to still be hanging out around each other.

Guess he had been the only contact he had out here in this area, but he needed to be out on his own. He was a man of purpose, not someone to just do something for the sake of doing it like Saint was.

The Last Supper had come up in lesson as the day had been nearing closer. It was a formal meeting of all those in the kingdom, and all of them were expected to dress their best for such a gathering. He had very little, resorting to bringing few things from home. Much he would gather here, if Khael's situation was anything to go off of. The copper male paced in his home, adorning himself in his thobe. Between his winter and summer clothing, this was the nicest thing he had to offer of himself. His hair slicked back, tied together with his golden tie.

It was not a terrible walk from his new home to the Feasting Hall. There were already so many that had been gathered to this place, all of them taking their seats along the table. His and Saint's were closer towards the end, bottom of the totem pole. It would not remain this way for long.

The hound had shown up not long after him, coming in with his roommate. Saint too had very little to offer, but cleaned himself off, wearing his loose shirt along with clean slacks. There was a belt around his waist. He hadn't paid the hound much mind, finding his gaze searching for someone else.

Khael had to know about his presence, and he could tell in her cold avoidance of him. She was not happy to have him here. It was not her choice in the end. He would go where he pleased.

He strolled into place, barely giving a glance to the other members or the leadership standing at the very end of the table, finding where he was supposed to be in the line. He took a seat, his head glancing forward down the stretch as he put himself back into his still posture. Now he was an observer again.

Ossidael Lykoi

The Family
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POSTED: Mon May 20, 2019 9:00 pm

The Southern Watch Tower was different than the tiny cabin that had burned down in the wake of a blood-red moon. Brocade had finally given up the wilderness, returning the canvas tent that had been his home throughout the longwinded winter. It felt strange to lie in the hollow silence of the tower with nothing but the echo of his breath reverberating against the stones. On some mornings he awoke to the sound of murmured voices – the quiet rhythm of workers who pounded with mallets and arranged careful stones.

The wisteria trailed over his shoulders as he passed beneath the entrance, brushing his hands over the leather armor which sat snugly over his tunic. The tiny rabbits foot hung from his label, the richly dyed scarf twisted loftily and tucked against his chest – a bright foray into color that stood out like a drop of blood against the earthy tones of his regalia. Brocade rumbled to himself and made the journey on foot – ignoring the nagging voices that reminded him of Elphaba’s promise.

It rang in his ears sometimes when he was least expecting it.

When he finally entered the hall he was surprised at the number of Salsolans present – for it seemed that again their numbers had swelled, the long table filled with young faces that the Director couldn’t help but smile at. He clasped his hand behind his back as he strolled towards a goblet, inspecting the lip of the thing and narrowing his expression as he thought of Kamaris poisoning and all the other plights that had recently befallen the Kingdom.

The wolf snapped his fingers at Odalis, a red headed servant who stood uselessly off to one side.

”Fill this.”

She obeyed with a glimmer in her eyes that made him snarl softly, though when she returned with the cup it was filled to the brim with rich red wine. He grunted his thanks and disappeared to stroll along the lengthy table – and he smiled to those he recognized, pausing to greet relatives and young members of The Family that had yet to prove their merit. Symre sat unadorned, and he blinked at her before she offered a nonchalant roll of her shoulders.

When would she learn?

There were many chairs to pass to get to the head of the table – and Brocade found himself slowing as he passed Morgana, beautifully red-gold and gleaming perched upon her seat. He came upon the Shield Faction and offered his greetings before taking up his seat next to Kamari, and silently he lapped at his wine – allowing his eyes to slowly trail from the gem-stone that sat against Morganas chest to the pale-faced woman who sat at the head of their table – her antlered crown gleaming beneath the flickering candle light.


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

POSTED: Thu May 23, 2019 10:01 pm

A fledgling lineage required in the making ought be groomed and nourished properly. She would guide a willing child in order to make things happen, the noble task of strengthening the Blacksun surname was now a job of two.

She watched with critical eyes as her eldest transformed into a creature of polished beauty. It ran in the women of their family, a beauty older than the fancy adornments and perfumed apparel other females chose to adorn themselves with. Their beauty was raw and natural, strong bodies and exotic shapes, accentuated by their unusual pelts. Admiration and awe were easily arisen by their visage, intricate garments or not. However the occasion called for a little more.

Her own costume wasn’t that of unbound appeal or excessive wealth, such costumes had failed her in the past. It was time to show her true colours, now that she had made it up high, scraping the surface of her one true goal. The Kingdom ought to know her for what she truly was, a powerful and mighty being, great because of the horrors she was capable of in the name of the crown.

She wore armour as black as midnight, pristine and flawless against her grizzled tones. A luscious cape of the same dark hue hung from her shoulders, hundreds of raven feathers forming a rather dramatic collar that matched the dark feather headdress which crowned her head with a set of three dental pieces that decorated the primitive looking accessory. She looked and bore herself like a grand veteran, the scars in her skin and the severity of her expression accounting for the years spent in the business of warfare and assassination.

When they entered the Hall she looked like a looming shadow next to her daughter’s brilliant appearance. The comparison didn’t matter for they both wore costumes tailored for a specific purpose. They presented themselves in front of the leadership, Varda going first to exhibit her excellent verbal skills and impeccable manners. Kaeli nodded approvingly when the girl was done and went forward to greet the Queen with the traditional touch of muzzles that resembled a kiss in both cheeks. Words were unnecessary as everything that could be said passed between them through meaningful looks and the Henchwoman’s extremely respectful posture.

She followed her daughter to her seat and whispered last minute instructions into her attentive ear, finishing the exchange with a peck to the cinnamon wraith’ forehead. On her way to her own seat she spotted a mountain made flesh, her betrothed, already settled on the spot earned by his ranking. Toxic hues sought his lonely orb to confirm the culmination of a plan that had been in the making for months and as she passed behind him charcoal fingers caressed the fine fabric that covered his shoulder softly, possessively. Theirs would be an union worth renown.
Last edited by Kaeli Blacksun on Sun May 26, 2019 12:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
The Henchman
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Luperci Cavalleria Mate to Shaamah

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