Too lazy to get an image of the calc and gar runes on his gris gris gifts for Jack and Agony, but that's what they are.
Word Count → 395
Jackson had left the night before, as had his cream-furred daughter, and that left Ravesque with time alone. It was pleasant, for the most part, and when the children finally returned, he allowed him to go about their business without badgering from their shadow-laced father. He had his own tasks anyways; black hands worked carefully with undyed deer hide, crafting two pouches that he filled with two separate groups of items. Gifts from their father for the step forward in their life, marks of spiritual protection shown to him by the cult in the New Brunswick caverns. Calc and Gar were marked on the pouches with a bit of chalk. Runic marks were not his forte, of course, but they would serve their purpose. Chalice and spear, female and male. Agony and Jackson.
He knew it was a big night; he'd known for days that his youngest children, his final children, were soon to be children no longer — at least as far as Anathema was concerned. Ravesque was not a sappy man. He didn't ooze pride over his aging children, but he didn't disregard the importance of the night. Regardless of how he felt, Agony and Jackson were sure to be excited, and as a father he took steps to ensure he would be present for the ceremony. The gris gris he had long since stopped wearing made an appearance, he'd crafted a new bag made from a rich red-dyed leather, and it was slipped over his neck with unfamiliar ease. The added weight was nothing; the presence of the talisman went unnoticed for the most part, but it would serve to as ceremonial garb in lieu of true clothing.
He ushered them away when it was time for them to go, waiting longer to finish their gifts from him entirely; with the two new gris gris hanging over his arm, he made his way through the caverns and into the open air. Maxia Negra was the destination. As he came to find it, crimson eyes fell upon the figures already there: the dark Rakeeb, his equally dark son and the pristine white Naniko. He didn't presume to take a place beside her, focusing on her instead as he came to rest by their growing son, standing beside the smaller image of himself as it sat. Silence remained. There were no words needed to be said.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; table code by the Mentors!
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