praying to the wrong piece of wood

Ithiel de le Poer · 01-21-2012, 05:59 AM

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(785) Private.

Prompt: The ravens that live in Hollow's Ruins get quite hungry during this time of the year. Pay them some homage for their duty to the clan and present them with a meal.

Ithiel is by me!

With the first hint of morning's light, Ithiel rose. The sun's rising generally preceded his own, although on this day, the dark-hued man had risen earlier still, when the pre-dawn light was but a faint yellowish tinge in a deeply purple sky. As he left his cave, he noted the sky was a brighter shade of lavender, but the sun herself had not yet arisen.

His bow and arrow strapped upon his back, the dark-hued wolf planned to make quick work of a few smaller mammals, sending the skinned pelts off to Myrika. He had gotten closer to his cousin since arriving here, and promised her all the skins she could handle if she could at least attempt to calm Lystra's nerves. On this day, even, the man's surly mare was off with his russet-haired cousin. Ithiel pondered how they fared, and decided it did not matter. He would do his rounds on foot today -- but first, breakfast, both for himself and for the ravens to the west of Inferni.

Zedekiah grumbled from his arm, but Ithiel moved deftly through the snow, listening to the pleasant crunch of it beneath his feet. Snow was not altogether absent in the desert, as one might think. With the night came frigid cold, too, and Ithiel was used to winter's chill from his previous year. He did not expect to see quite so much snow, however, and he hadn't accounted for the colder days. Where the desert grew hot with the day and cold with the night, Nova Scotia seemed to remain colder throughout winter, allowing the snow to accumulate. This did not irritate Ithiel -- the weather was of no consequence to the dark man.

Some hours later, the dark-hued man had his catch: three squirrels and two hares, along with a rather plump pair of grouse. A third grouse had provided his meal, and Zedekiah had partaken of a fourth squirrel. These had been felled with his bow, and lucky Ithiel had recovered all but two of the arrows he'd used to down the animals. Another had shattered when it struck bone, and still one more had broken at the shaft. The head of this latter arrow was, at least, salvageable. He strung everything together with a short piece of rope, slinging this over his shoulder as he walked westward, passing familiar landmarks.

Zedekiah flew above him, circling high in the sky with what seemed to be minimal effort on the vulture's part. His wings and body shape were meant for soaring, after all. He hadn't the remora of small wings meant for diving earthward, nor any of the other hunting adaptations developed by raptors -- he was built to roam the skies for hours upon hours, seeking his meals of the recently dead. Ithiel's eyes swept skyward at the thought and found the circling dot of his bird, nodding to himself as he walked. The journey did not take long, and Ithiel soon found himself approaching Myrika's schoolhouse. She did not seem to be home, as he expected. The pile of pelts was left just inside the main door -- of course, the lock was long rusted to uselessness, and one within Inferni had little need for locks, after all.

Ithiel moved along quickly, preferring not to meet his cousin, especially if she was atop his cantankerous mare. He loped southward and westward, and soon the looming copse of trees signifying the hollow came before him. Already, the angry caw of ravens came to his ears, and Ithiel grimaced at the din. Upon looking at Zedekiah, one might suspect him for a particularly raucous bird, perhaps merely due to his size. On the contrary, Zedekiah spoke and vocalized infrequently. His voice was raspy, barely more than grunts at times -- otherwise, the big death-bird was utterly quiet. Ithiel appreciated this about his companion, as he himself preferred not to speak lengthily if he could help it.

Ithiel approached the trees with the meat slung over his shoulder, ducking beneath a particularly low branch. The ravens shuffled in the higher reaches of the trees, and Ithiel watched them with cautious crimson eyes, regarding the smaller birds with some disdain. Nonetheless, they provided a service to the clan, and for that, the coyotes of Inferni were obligated to provide for these cawing creatures. Ithiel took the meat-belt from his shoulder and tossed it up on the large, burned tree, utterly indifferent to its past meaning. Heathen's alters meant nothing at all to the dusky-hued man, and he watched as dark shadows burst from the treetops to descend upon the offered gift.

Aemon de le Poer · 01-21-2012, 07:35 PM

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8D

It was the sound that had drawn him out more than anything. Aemon didn't often linger in the unfriendly terrain of the Waste, and particularly not its charred remains. He knew that this was where Inferni's flock of ravens tended to gather, where they scavenged and brooded. It was also surely where they exchanged information. The birds were eyes and ears for Inferni where there otherwise would be none. Aemon wondered what sorts of things they saw... His skill in Low Speech was wanting work anyhow; maybe it was time to get closer to the birds. His path of duty lay under their watch, after all, and so the coy-wolf had followed the screeching, piercing voices to where they originated.

His own day had been spent in profitable hunt, as well, although Aemon carried a string of freshly gutted fish instead of any mammalian meat. Each had met their end at the point of his spear, now slick with fish-slime, scales, and blood. He had grown fond of the taste of the local fish, and had found himself eating them more and more. By himself, they were much easier to hunt than any larger prey.

It took until Aemon could see the birds in the distance, their screams getting louder with each step, before he noticed the scent of his brother. He assumed that Ithiel had been busying himself since his arrival, and Aemon couldn't blame him. Even he had been scarce recently as he kept tight watch on the security of the borders.

The ravens took notice as he neared, their beady eyes locking onto the filets that he carried hungrily. Already, they ripped at a string of meat dangling on a blackened tree limb; ravenous was the only way to describe them. "Ithiel!" he called when he was in earshot. He had to speak so loudly it almost seemed rude, but the noise of the birds won out over the voice he used most of. "You're spending more time with birds than your own brother," he pointed out with a grin, moving beside him and nudging him with his elbow before ripping a fish off of the line and tossing it to the ground. The explosion of commotion that followed was ridiculous; you would think the birds never ate. "How've you been? What do you think of Inferni?" Aemon, too, was still settling into this slower, less structured way of life. Sometimes, he got bored; he wondered if Ithiel was today.

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Ithiel de le Poer · 01-26-2012, 11:19 AM

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(702)

Ithiel is by me!

The ashen coyote did not regret having come to Inferni, not exactly. It was not quite so refined a thought as that. Ithiel was uncomfortable within this clan of cousins, and he felt like an anomaly amongst them. Gabriel, in all likelihood, did not even know of his sons' existence. Part of Ithiel's worldview had cracked, and it was beginning -- slowly but surely -- to come down in pieces around him. What other falsities were there in his life? His mind had not yet explored the thought that all his beloved ideology was false, but perhaps, in due time, it would come to Ithiel.

Ithiel grimly watched the ravens as they squabbled over these bits of flesh. Their words were mostly garbled raven-speak, but eerily enough, here and there a word Ithiel clearly understood crept into their vocabulary -- primarily, "mine." The birds were voracious, and in a few short moments, the goodies the dark man had brought for the ravens were little more than bones, scraps of flesh hanging from them. In due time, even these would be gone, and the bones of his kills would join the haphazard piles scattered around this hollow of trees.

The coyote was surprised when a voice called his attention, and Ithiel turned with stunning speed to behold the face of his brother. As quickly as he'd been flooded with alarm and adrenaline at having been snuck up upon, these alarms ceased to ring and he was calm once again. Aemon was no threat. And -- despite the speed of his whirling and the alarm within him, little of Ithiel's face had betrayed his surprise. The quickness of movement and pricked ears were the most he went emoted; the rest of his attention and energy had been expelled in reading hands and claws rather than wasting time with expressions.

Aemon, the man spoke, an exceedingly rare smile flashing across his muzzle. Ithiel's smiles were not so rare to Aemon, perhaps because his moon-pale brother received them more frequently than any other on earth. Ithiel might have taken the jape for a serious complaint, had it come from any other -- he knew Aemon and his humor well enough, however, to have smiled at the joke, merely shaking his head. It was not a shake which disagreed with Aemon's notion, for both brothers comprehended it was not truthful, but one of their simple repertoire.

I've been good, the darker of the pair said, watching the arc of the thrown fish. Where it landed, a moving black shadow consisting of ten or fifteen pairs of wings formed, and Ithiel wrinkled his nose. I would not choose these birds time with you, brother, he said. They're too noisy. Zedekiah, talk as he may on occasion, does not make such a great wall of noise as this. Ithiel spoke in loud tones, nearly shouting himself to be heard over the caw and yell of the ravens. But at least I like Inferni better than these birds, he added, punctuating the statement with a shrug. In truth, Ithiel was roughly indifferent about Inferni. He did not like it as well as Scintilla, but he could imagine there were far worse places to be -- such as within a pack.

I would know how you fare, too, Aemon -- but first, Ithiel said, moving straight to the matters he thought were of dire importance. We know of these many cousins in Inferni, and our half-siblings Ezekiel and Talitha. Did you know Gabriel had other children? Wolf children? Ithiel's agitation was apparent on his face, his ears folded half-mast with the anger he now felt bubbling in him. His father had betrayed them. A son of Gabriel, wolf as I've ever seen one, trespassed here weeks ago. The dusky coyote was a man of impressive mettle under normal circumstances, but he found himself unable to keep the bitter disappointment and anger from appearing on his face. It was a rare show of emotion, but perhaps not so rare for Aemon -- as the dark coyote kept himself carefully neutral in the presence of most others, his littermate was frequently Ithiel's choice of counselor and advisor.

Aemon de le Poer · 01-31-2012, 01:18 PM

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grr, weird post.

Aemon's grin broadened at his brother's mention of the noise, his features squinted and ears held back, trying to keep out some manner of volume. It didn't really help. The screeching was awful, almost enough to be funny. Ithiel's shouting voice barely rang above their tenor. As quickly as he'd arrived on the scene, he wanted to get away from it. Aemon wanted to converse with his brother casually, not scream over the high alarms of the black birds. He was just as disgusted with their behavior, and he glanced down at the bracelet of large fish, counting each before deciding he could spare one more for the birds and tossing it over.

Ithiel seemed to like Inferni as much as Aemon; it was a different place, and not bad by any means. It was just a matter of adjusting, and so far, he'd been doing just fine. The few faces of Inferni he'd spent time to learn had been nothing but kind to him, albeit with that familiar, chilly distance ever still. A dexterous silver fingers reached out to take Ithiel's shoulder, hoping to move their conversation downwind from the raucous for a while. His brother had news, it seemed, and the Vigiles lowered his head, ashen coyote-ears expectant for the words.

It was the cousins he spoke of, and Aemon knew there were many. Yes, yes, he thought, nodding his brother along, face full of consternation, the worry now building. At the word, wolf, Aemon couldn't help but growl, stepping away from the closeness of his brother to stalk around in an angry circle. "No," he cursed, "it can't be." Other children?! The idea of wolfen kin made color rise to his face and ears. It was an idea he could not entertain, and it made him furious to think of it. Anger flashed through scarlet slits and he wheeled, returning to his brother with questions, demands. "Where did they come from? What did they look like?" Aemon's mind reeled; what if these wolf-brothers lived near? What then? What if Gabriel is with them? he thought, feeling hurt at the thought, slate ears firmly planted to his skull as he thought deeply, posture stiff as he played with a cord of his own hair. He must seek out these blood traitors who dare show their faces here. It all made him irate, not to mention confused. Aemon had thought Gabriel to be a better man than that.

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Ithiel de le Poer · 02-02-2012, 08:32 PM

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(350)
Not weird! Also, v. minor powerplay (like moving Ithi + Aemon away from the birds) is always okay with my characters, at least where you're concerned. Big Grin Thanks for letting me know though!

Ithiel is by Kitty!

The dust-colored coyote eagerly stepped away from the cawing and crowing of the birds, moving out of the copse of trees with his silvery brother. Ithiel needed no second invitation to escape the noise of the birds, though as the pair of coyotes stepped away from Hollow's Ruins and out onto the more open marshland, the din seemed to die down somewhat. Perhaps the crows had realized their feast had come to a conclusion. Ithiel had no doubt others would come to bring food for the birds, however; such was the agreement between Ezekiel and these birds. In exchange for their eyes, they were provided with food. It was a simple and elegant contract, and Ithiel approved of it, however little he approved of the ravens themselves.

Aemon was as upset as Ithiel himself had been, pacing and showing tooth. Ithiel, for his part, stood by gravely. He knew what his brother experienced, for the same anger had coursed through him. The very same anger still burned in some dark and faraway part of himself, as well. Ithiel answered his brother's questions promptly, the information surfacing quickly. The one I saw had a dark mask, fur with the color of autumn wheat, and blue eyes. I only assume there are others, though -- we did not know of Ezekiel and Talitha, yet they are Gabriel's children, as well, the man said, shrugging both broad shoulders helplessly. Perhaps Gabriel had deposited his seed in women of all these wolf packs, and they had half-brothers and half-sisters abounds. This one I met -- Alder, of... Cour des Miracles? the dust-colored coyote offered, struggling with the foreign sound of the name on his tongue. One of the southern packs, I think.

Ithiel reached out to squeeze his brother's shoulder reassuringly, though the dark man did not know what words to speak to ease his moonlight-colored littermate's anger and anxiety over this revelation. Ithiel had yet to square such information with himself; he rather hoped Aemon would be the one to guide him on this matter.

Aemon de le Poer · 02-07-2012, 08:10 PM

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doodeedooo

Aemon turned at his brother's description, staring thoughtfully at the thick black mass of crows behind them. A half-brother. A wolf, tan and masked with blue eyes. Aemon's own crimsons narrowed at the thought. Blue eyes were not wolf or coyote. Strange, he thought, the word dog flashing blatantly through his brain, but he had no proof. He would have to see for himself. Aemon shifted, rocking in his stance and looking to Ithiel, arms folded while pale fingers stroked idly at his chin and throat as he thought.

"Did he give anymore information about this pack? How far south is it? We have to go," Aemon decided then, jaw firmly set as he watched the crows settle onto the raw branches of the tree. He ground his teeth in sudden anxiety, reaching to his pocket to feel for his Bible. He felt it, but it hardly comforted him. Ithiel's hand on his shoulder did a better job, but it still meant little. His father had sinned. "Why was he here? Did he know anything about father?" he asked hurriedly, the thoughts coming faster now as he brooded. They needed that knowledge, no matter who might have it. It didn't occur to Aemon that his brother might not have spent time exchanging so many words with his tainted kin. The Vigiles could not tolerate the thought himself, but gathering information in that way was a skill he had honed, and would need to practice still.

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Ithiel de le Poer · 02-11-2012, 03:42 AM

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(304)

Ithiel is by me!

The dark coyote hesitated, peering on his brother with a strange disappointment reflecting faintly across his features. Ithiel had the good sense to shake his head slowly in response to Aemon's questions, considering them carefully before providing a verbal answer. The dusky coyote grimaced in response to the last two questions, his countenance becoming even more grim with the subject of their father Gabriel. His hand withdrew from his brother's shoulder to stroke at his chin during his consideration. He wished to answer each of his silvery sibling's questions, and he would do so as diligently as possible.

I did not think to ask of Gabriel. He seemed lost; it did not appear he had purpose in being in Inferni. Cour des Miracles must be one of the packs a day's ride south, though which, I am not sure, the dust-colored man confessed. He had ridden south shortly after arriving in Inferni, but this did not mean he could lay a name at the feet of one of those scent-borders. I was given no information about this pack, though, the man said, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. The revelation... brothers, Ithiel said, for once his confident speech faltering. It shocked me, he finished, putting up two palms in a helpless gesture toward his brother.

Why must we go south, Aemon? He is a wolf, he'll know no more than Ezekiel, the granite-colored coyote said, his displeasure at the idea of interacting with wolves for something they needed apparent. Why would Gabriel tell his wolf-children his destination, and not his heir? Ithiel spoke, of course, of Ezekiel. Gabriel had bequeathed leadership to the most capable of Inferni, his son, and the dynasty continued -- a dynasty Ithiel would take no part in.

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