Pripyat did not grow uncomfortable as the crowd grew, even as they grew louder and less coordinated. Many of the faces he knew, a few he did not but it did not matter. They were his brothers and sisters and he felt at peace with them even if he was not to share in the mostly joyous attitude. The boy did not acknowledge any of them, except for when one said his name directly. Kiara. Simply he turned his freshly scarred eye upon her and nodded, as if to say Merry Samhain. And he turned back to the fire. Every now and then he threw large branches into the flames, but it seemed the great pile of wood he had built up did not grow smaller.
Two sources of meat were presented, both Temo and Jaden brought a kill. Pripyat waited until Jaden had placed his and the man moved to Nayru and motioned for her dagger, which under the influence the warrior parted with more readily. Somewhat amused, for the boy hadn’t thought truly that the two toned lady would relinquish the weapon perpetually strapped to her side, yet he simply hadn’t had another option. Moving to the doe Temo had brought he begun to hack and slice at the skin, cutting away chunks of meat from the carcass. These he placed on the hot stones circling the bonfire, and the scent of cooking flesh soon filled the air. Turning to the deer Jaden brought he cut them into equal sized portions of meat, and these he left raw and in a pile near to the deer. Pripyat knew that if any choose they could have pulled away meat with their own instruments—tooth and claw, but the silent man had made the sharing of the meal easier.
Himself he took one of the raw portions and returned to his seat, surveying the bonfire, slowly consuming the coopery venison. Once his meal was complete he looked about again, taking note of all who had arrived. One, he noted seemed to grow visibly upset and he hoped that soon someone would direct the girl to food. It seemed a good idea for all of them, who seemed to be filling up their bodies with intoxicating liquid rather than the nourishing substances he was roasting and enjoying raw. Bright eyes moved around the bonfire at those seated. Pripyat for a moment let his eyes linger on the eldest of them, the startling white woman. She was quiet and reserved, as was he, and idly he wondered if she belonged to the Herald class. If she did not, then surely she was in the wrong profession, an otherworldly energy seemed to roll off her in waves.
Moving to the symbolic pile of stuff, Pripyat grabbed a handful of animal bones, dried flowers and vines and the aromatic herbs he had gathered. Casting them into the bonfire they went up in a loud sizzle, then the cracking of dry animal bones came from within the flames. The boy wondered if any of them could comprehend the true meaning of this night, but knew that trying to educate the half drunken pack would be a fruitless endeavor. Simply it was fine that they all celebrated, however they choose. If only Tawny, or someone as crafty as she, had come, and brought masks that they could don, so truly each individual could become lost within themselves.
<style type="text/css">
.pip-sdb01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#ffee77; letter-spacing:1px; }
.pip-sdb01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;}
.pip-sdb01 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.pip-sdb01 {margin:0px auto; width:400px; background-color:#918d66; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/aIKI8.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #665566; padding: 10px 0px 235px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#ddcc99; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]