[aw] udugigvdi ale gvgeyui

POSTED: Sat Jul 07, 2012 10:04 pm

All welcome! Una is hanging out by the fields; his deer spirit guide (Udanvti) is visible. :) /+710

“But why agriculture?” the red wolf asked, sitting on a flat stone and tilting his head. His fingers fumbled with one of his braids, which had started to become undone; he completed the process and let the bead drop into his hand. It was a reminder of how much time had passed since his brother had, the precursor to the events that would land him in AniWaya, so many miles away from the Great Tribe. Had Uleyvsv survived, he might not have felt so angry at the outsiders, not so driven to fight and protect. God knew how badly he’d failed at that, and at being a Tribe member in general, as his spirit guide often implied. However, why she’d choose a completely out-of-the-blue profession for him was still beyond him.

Udanvti did not seem offended by his question, however; she stared at him as mildly as always then flicked her big ears. “Come with me,” she said, and he had no choice but to quickly re-braid the bead into his hair and follow.

They did not have to travel very far before the fields came into view, great rows of well-plowed dirt and evidence of recent sowing as well. The soil smelled fertile, and some tools lay abandoned at the edge. It was a familiar sight from the Great Tribe, where they’d often harvested the Three Sisters and whatever else they could find for their animals. However, these fields didn’t look quite as expansive as the ones back home, and he was used to seeing a constant circulation of crops sprouting from the earth each season.

“AniWaya had but one Tsulvwisdanehi before you came,” the white-tailed doe said, her eyes roaming over the plant rows before landing on him. “None skilled or mastered in the rank. You will be the first, and this will be your responsibility, Unatsikanogeni.” She looked back toward the fields thoughtfully, her ears swiveled forward as if she could hear the plants growing in the earth. Or perhaps the spirit could; the seeds were alive and would grow and die just the same, sacrificed for the sake of the livestock who were sacrificed for the sake of the wolf. He had no doubt that she knew more than she was letting on about the young crops.

But there was one thing he wasn’t even sure a spirit guide could figure out. “You made up my mind for me about the profession even before you knew this.”

Udanvti glanced sidelong at him, and there was something almost embarrassed in her meek brown face. She recovered instantly, however, and lifted her chin. “Do you know what the Asgoli Digalogisgi’s mark represents?” she asked, and went on before he could answer in the negative. “Hope and love,” she murmured. “You need to hope that the plants will grow again, just as you need to hope that you will be reborn like the seeds—and hope that you will never again wither under the demands of the Tribe. Farmers must tirelessly love the earth in order to reap its gifts, which it gives in love for the farmers. And you need to love your fellow AniWayans enough to sacrifice for them, Unatsi.” Dark eyes regarded him with the wisdom of decades, maybe even millennia, before the Tribe used stone tools or before the first wolf howled.

The red wolf was humbled under that mild stare, even though guilt and defensiveness still surfaced underneath his trust for the spirit guide’s word. How could he love those who had forsaken them, and how could he hope when hope had only brought him pain? He still knew that he did not understand, but—maybe there was a glimmer of hope that Udanvti could lead him through it. He’d already come to AniWaya for a new start, and staring at the field, he could feel his new life being handed to him. He just needed to be strong enough to bear it.

After the Tsulvwisdanehi nodded agreement, the doe began to walk toward the fields, the wolf matching her stride on two legs. They meandered along the boundary of the field, murmuring about how the crops were planted in the old Tribe, identifying the tools lying around it, as the sun soared above.

POSTED: Sat Jul 07, 2012 10:32 pm

(300) mine now

art by crypsis

There was one thing, above all others, that Anatole excelled at—tracking. He was made for it. Long legged and fast of pace, he was not only fast enough but burly enough to get through most terrain without difficulty. At present, he was tracking something unusual. It was unusual if only for the fact it smelled of disease. It was a sickly scent, one not of illness but of soured flesh. He trailed the scent with his head low and nose to the earth, moving at the fast-paced lope of a man on a mission.

So when the woods parted deftly ahead of him, Anatole hardly noticed. What he did notice was the shadow above him; instinctively, as is the nature of animals who recognize there is some danger in the sky, he felt the fur bristle along his back. This passed momentarily, for he was used to the impressive wingspan and the feeling that came with it. Even though he and Donoma were constantly separated, he sensed her in everything he did. This was why he finally lifted his head, when the scent diverged in twain.

A stranger was at the edge of the field. Anatole’s instinct was to bark at him and raise questions, but he was learning (and this far more quickly than being polite) to take more in before he started demanding things. The wolf was obviously no stranger to the Tribe; he was dressed for the part, and unless his nose was lying, the deer next to him was a spirit.

“Of course she is,” the eagle said, swooping low and landing on a branch above his head. Anatole snorted bullishly and thought better of opening his mouth to make any smart comment. Instead he settled back onto his haunches and awaited the man’s approach.

POSTED: Sun Jul 08, 2012 4:54 am

Cheater. x3 And hooray for socializing issues at opposite ends of the spectrum! /+490

There was only so much that Unatsi could learn from staring at the fields alone—but, oddly enough, he was more confident than he had been. His spirit guide had pointed out that he was a quick learner when it came to remembering facts and processes, and while that had been useless in battle (knowing which moves disarmed an opponent was useless when your body failed to execute them), it would be a much greater asset in simply cultivating plants. He would need to learn all he could from others in the Tribe, including those who’d chosen the crops for this field, but he was nervously hopeful that he’d be able to piece it all together from their accounts.

The doe swiveled her ears suddenly, and the red wolf could feel his nerves bunching again. He twisted around too quickly, jerking his neck and releasing a hot pain up the side, under the skin. He rubbed the afflicted area, grimaced, twitched, and finally swung around the rest of the way to see an ash-colored wolf sprinkled with black. Above the wolf perched an eagle, which another luperci might have gawked at; the former Great Tribe member only took this in stride as a familiar sight, recognizing the spirit for what it was.

Udanvti pushed a flicker of thought at him, softly urging him to make introductions, and Unatsikanogeni awkwardly straightened his shoulders and walked toward the other AniWayan. His nerves came through in small things, such as fingers that fidgeted at his sides and a tail-tip that flickered like a trapped creature behind him, but it formed a greater impression of weakness that he was used to his old Tribesmates scoffing at—which only increased his nerves more. With the deer trailing placidly after him, however, he knew he couldn’t run and hide like he desired, and he made a tragic effort to smile.

“Osiyo,” Unatsi greeted, the Cherokee leaping instinctually to his tongue before he remembered that not every member here was versed in the culture. Quickly, he scrambled to amend himself. “Uh—that means ‘hello,’ which I guess you might’ve already picked up on, so never mind…” He fell into his rambling mode as usual, intimidated by the other’s vibrant green eyes. “I’m—I’m new, to this sect of the Tribe, I mean; I came from the old one. And I’m—my name’s Unatskanogeni, but you can call me Unatsi, or Una, or anything; I know it’s dreadfully long, longer than I can stand sometimes, so I won’t be offended if you had a nickname.”

And then, at last, he fell silent—although his thoughts continued to rush around his mind like a jackrabbit turning circles: such as whether he should ask “what’s your name” or “gadodetsa do,” or maybe even just shut up and wait for the other to say his name anyway, even though this silence was becoming dreadfully awkward.

Udanvti snorted in amusement behind him.

POSTED: Sun Jul 08, 2012 7:29 am

(511) shhhh be my muse. sorry if this is disjointed, I just got back from the bar

art by crypsis

Despite being born within this branch of AniWaya (for even Anatole understood they were a colony of sorts) he had failed to grasp the process by which they lived. He was trying now, and harder especially when there was a guide and a hand to aid him. Anatole was not dumb, but he was simple, and his simplicity demanded order. As long as a firm hand guided him, he would be dutiful son and soldier. This was why even if she did not realize it Ulilohi had affirmed her position to him, directing him and ordering him by subtle movements and tonal shifts he identified with those in leadership positions.

As it stood now, the man approaching him had none of these qualities. Anatole was reminded, however, of his cousin and thought of how Claudius had somehow risen to leadership standings himself. This was all well and good for him—Claudius, while still stuttering, no longer acted like a scared child as Anatole had remembered him for. Though his voice was weak his will was strong, and Anatole was loyal to his blood if nothing else and would have come to defend him should such need arise. Even when his mother had abandoned her sister, she had sworn to avenge the death of Noir should the chance rise. The scout remembered this promise, and one made to his aunt, and hoped to one day be the strength she needed. Perhaps he would even get Claudius to raise arms against the offenders.

Anatole was still, much as a predator around nervous prey might be, though his eyes scanned and searched and noticed everything. He was constantly aware of his surroundings, and broke down things into simpler patterns. This man was, at one point, a warrior—he saw this in his strong body and stance, even if it was subtle. The speech was made more of nerves, and with the magnetizing polarity of his gaze, Anatole accounted for it. He was quiet for a beat, then two, and after a moment of consideration finally spoke.

“I know some,” he said plainly, his thick Quebecois accent a peculiar thing. It was nearly Eastern European in its make, but somehow different. It marked him as a foreigner still, even though he was born a native son. “If I don’t understand I’ll ask you,” the scout went on directly, not one to feign ignorance for the sake of saving pride. He had more than enough of that based on his physical skills alone. Even if he wasn’t clever or swift in thoughts, his body was a staggering explosion of height and muscle mass that, along with his well-trained background, provided more than enough to back up his less than stellar mental skills.

“My name is Anatole. I’m the Waya Agateno here,” he added, careful of his pronunciation when it came to his rank. He was pleased to have ascended to the secondary tier and hoped sorely to become the master. Patience, of course, was one of his first lessons. The spirits certainly knew he needed it.

POSTED: Sun Jul 15, 2012 3:19 am

Man, trying to get used to this talky kid again. ;__; /+344

Unatsi could not stand silences, which accounted for most of his ramblings. He would speak to fill the air with words, and as his speech went on, it began to lose meaning. Sometimes he had to just hear himself talk to remind himself that he was alive, as insane as that sounded—and was, he had to admit. Udanvti, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with being quiet and listening, as she urged him to stop and do dozens of times. It was hard, though, but he strained his brown ears and waited to see if this Tribeswolf would reject him like so many others.

The grey-gold stranger spoke at last, with an accent that was decidedly not Cherokee. It was understandable enough, Unatsi guessed, but he nodded eagerly as the other offered the compromise: simply asking if he needed explanation. Some of his self-consciousness lifted, and he guessed it’d be okay if he asked to hear the other repeat his words if he couldn’t understand his accent. Or—well, he’d probably not take that much of a risk. It was only his first week, after all. Mustn’t rush into things, or get too comfortable.

“Nice to meet you, Anatole,” the red wolf said, testing whether or not he could get the name right. His mind caught up with the other’s words, and he grinned in pleased surprise. “A Waya Agateno, huh? I guess I was under the impression there weren’t any Skilled or Master ranks around here—uh, not that I don’t think you AniWayans are up to it, and I’m sure you’re all a hell of a lot better than I am, generally speaking, but since this place is new, and you’re all—you’re all different,” he blurted, flattening his ears nervously. “It’s not… It’s not like home. I mean, it is, enough, but… I really need help finding my feet around here.”

He went silent again, swallowing back more words. Unloading all his problems on the first random ally he ran into was not going to make him popular here.

POSTED: Sun Jul 15, 2012 3:14 pm

(309) I like him. :3

art by crypsis

Silence was a thing Anatole welcomed; he had been in the heart of it, trapped in the northern wastes, and known silence as a truer companion than his fellows. It gave him no pleasure to hear his own voice, nor to speak to himself as he had witnessed others doing. He was content to observe, and watch. Anatole was a visual man as opposed to one driven by his other senses; only smell was stronger, and he used this as he used his eyes. Some trails were easier to see by shutting out the rest of the world.

If it should have been apparent his own accent puzzled the red wolf, Anatole, observant or not, missed this. He was still stunted when it came to things such as conversation and subtlety, having little familiarity with either. Sarcasm, especially, was still hard for him. Irony and passive-aggressiveness were completely misinterpreted, and he had a penchant for thinking certain tonal shifts were mental disorders.

So when the man spoke, Anatole missed the implication that this branch of the Tribe might be lacking in capable men. He missed this just as he missed the fact that the native-son considered them outsiders, as if they were not true because of their bloodlines or distance. A man who might have caught those things might have grown defensive, or angry—Anatole did neither, and merely regarded his companion as he might a child who spoke far too much.

“There are several of us,” he said with that same direct method. “Who hold Skilled ranks. We lost our Masters to the war; I don’t know if they explained that to you,” Anatole went on, looking the decorated man in the face. “But this place suffered from bad guidance. So no, I don’t expect it to be like your home. It is not like it was before.”

POSTED: Sun Jul 22, 2012 5:50 pm


The former Ayastigi had been conditioned to anticipate the worst, especially when it came to rejection from other luperci. He wouldn’t have admitted such a thing aloud, but it was at the root of his pessimistic nature, and it made him the groveling creature he was capable of being. Like now, the left side of his face twitched when the other’s harlequin green eyes found him—but the other’s tone of voice was merely blunt, not unkind.

“The war,” Unasti echoed, and it seemed like a topic had been found that could shut him up for a few minutes. He blinked then gave his head a quick shake, the braided sections of his hair whipping around weighed down by their beads. “Maska Ahote,” he said quietly. “I almost—I almost forgot about it.” That in itself was strange, since the drama revolving around the apparent tyrant had taken some of the heat off his own mistakes.

“I’m sorry,” he added, coming at last to the conclusion that what he’d said was rude anyway, bad implications or not. “I should be more—adaptable.” He looked over his shoulder as he quoted his spirit guide’s words, but she was nowhere to be found; either simply imperceptible for the moment or just elsewhere.

“Is Ulilohi making things better?” Una asked with a distinct lack of wordiness. Mention of war had served to still the loquacious wolf’s tongue.

POSTED: Fri Jul 27, 2012 2:28 pm

art by crypsis

In his own way, Anatole was an introvert. He did not make friends easily, but kept the ones he did have close despite his blunt words and often unintentional cruelness. Many here were not counted amongst the number, and in truth, he looked only on Claudius and Uliohi for this. She was often busy, as was his cousin, but Anatole was used to the solitude and embraced it. With the eagle, now, he was never truly alone. Donoma was, however, wise enough to recognize his need for this isolation and silence and often allowed the illusion of it to keep the big wolf at ease.

Dark ears turned forward at the name, and again, he wished sorely he had been present. Anatole lacked battle scars despite his travels, something that both pleased him and irritated him all at once. He shrugged one shaggy shoulder and looked out to the worked earth. “I believe so,” he explained. “My cousin is helping her, and I see changes—there’s more of you coming from the main Tribe, for one. Many have left, others came; good and bad.” The electric green gaze trailed back to the red wolf, and his body betrayed its desire to move by shifting from one side to the other. “Things are supposed to change, though,” he went on, thinking of something his own guide had told him. “So I suppose that’s all right.”

The big wolf snorted at a thought. “You’ll see soon enough, I suppose. I’ll leave you two, and get back to my patrol.” Without waiting for a farewell, though the dark-half wolf supposed that he would have gotten one had he bothered to wait. Still, his speed was not one of rudeness as opposed to duty; thus excused he trotted off ahead of the red-wolf and deer, paused to drop his head once and double-check a trail, and bound off into the forest after the animal he was stalking.

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