Telling tales in the graveyard
Sep. 7th, 2010 05:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 10:24 Pacific Time on Tue Sep 7 2010.
Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (8% full).
Burial Mounds
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
Obvious exits:
Forest
Last night's rain has finally stopped, though gray clouds still hang heavily overhead. The land feels and smells fresh in its dampened and newly cleaned state. Lingering amongst the gravemarkers, nose pushing aside the occasional leaf or stick, is a temporarily three-legged Fury cub. Yellow eyes look out from a black furred face, studying the random marker curiously before moving on to the next.
A Silver Fang emerges from behind the boulder, her scent emerging as she comes into view. You are hurt. A shake banishes stray droplets of moisture and settles her fur before she approaches the cub, nose working.
Second-Chance glances toward the Fang as scent tickles her nose, ears skewing. She explains vaguely of an unfortunate run in with a snake, while turning away from the gravemarker to greet the Ragabash properly. Good hunting for Facon's Gambit-rhya today?
'Snake' perks Falcon's Gambit's ears. Golden-rhya's spirit snake? The rest, however, has her glancing away, non-committal. I am not hunting. I am thinking. You? What are you doing here?
No. Second Chance knows nothing of Golden-rhya's snake-spirit. This was bad snake, corrupt. The Fury cub looks to the gravemarker she'd been examining just moments before. Visiting, hoping to bring ~Glory~ that those who died before will accept Chance when her time comes.
Almost into adulthood, the wolf has come into her paws and ears. She maintains a lanky appearance, however, still telling of her youth.
Her arms and legs have toned, hands and feet become paws meant for ranging across a variety of terrain and covering long distances. Her torso has become a lean, muscular lupine form. Her head is more angular, narrowing in the face as nose and mouth lengthen into a canine muzzle filled with teeth for crushing and tearing. Forehead and crown are broadened, with ears taking a wolfish cast. A tail stretches forth from her rump.
Fur in varying shades of black cover her form from nose to tail without break. The coarse guard hairs are almost glint deep gray when the light catches at the right angle. The softer undercoat sometimes shows as a chocolate brown when the sun shows through it.
Eyes of deep yellow gaze offset the dark fur, the irises flecked with bits of amber coloring.
Falcon's Gambit thinks the only dead who will help you will be your ancestors. She sits and considers the other wolf. Do you have ancestors who speak to you?
Second-Chance moves on to the next marker slowly, ears turned toward Falcon's Gambit. No spirits, barely a past. Wry humor echoes her reply, teeth bared in a lupine grin. She explains she wasn't looking for help, but trying to know who died, and visiting.
Falcon's Gambit glances incuriously toward the markers. I do not find the stones as important in this shape. A yawn, and she adds, I do not know any of the fallen. Do you?
They aren't talked about. Something the cub finds a little odd, with all the talk of glory and honor. She huffs quietly before making her way back toward the Silver Fang. Do ancestor spirits talk to Falcon's Gambit-rhya?
Cubs hunt the trail of the future, not the past, the Fang notes, not without humor of her own. They spoke to me on my Rite of Passage. Never before. She adds that perhaps the song-moons would speak of the fallen, if they were asked.
Second-Chance considers asking the song-moons. Some might know about those who fell here. Her hind quarters come to rest on the ground near the other wolf, though her gaze stays out in study of the burial mounds. She wonders if the Ragabash is happier now that she's first rank, if things are better.
Falcon's Gambit doesn't answer for a long while. Far off, a squirrel cries territory violation. Eventually she stands and shakes before padding over to nose at a fallen branch. That is many questions. I think it is better to be Cliath than cub.
Second-Chance watches the Silver Fang, ears laying back in mild worry. She is looking forward to when she's sent on her Rite of Passage, though it's still much time away. Still much to learn as a cub that's not just biting and clawing.
The Ragabash looks back and gives the Ahroun a single wave of her tail. I was told to be true to myself and Falcon. If you are true to yourself and Pegasus, you should do well.
Second-Chance stands and hops toward the Ragabash, a little goofy looking on three legs with the stub of the missing foreleg working where the appendage should be. Did Falcon's Gambit-rhya meet spirits before going on her Rite of Passage?
Falcon's Gambit turns to face her, an ear swiveling toward the insistent squirrel. Yes. Not many, but some. I am no spirit-moon, but Falcon's Grace-rhya is. But I was taught how to speak politely to them. She indicates the missing leg with a polite glance. This was a lesson?
Second-Chance supposes it could be. She learned not to stick her hands in a snake's mouth. Her tone is almost dismissive, the limb is gone but will grow back. Icetrap-rhya looked at it and wasn't concerned.
The Fang's ears flatten, just for a moment. No. Where was this spirit? Why were you bothering it?
Second-Chance looks confused, even concerned briefly. No spirit, snake. Her muzzle turns toward the west and she indicates that way, between the boundries and the black Weaver ribbon. She didn't bother it, snake bothered her.
Falcon's Gambit continues irritated, though she sits again in an effort to hide it. Snake bit off your leg.
Snake bit paw, Chance explains, ears splaying. Paw died and fell off, then arm started dying. Wildfire-rhya cut it off to keep more and cub from dying.
This news is nearly as unsettling as the rest, if the Fang's ears are anything to go by. I do not know Wildfire-rhya, she says instead. Did he kill snake?
Second-Chance whines slightly, lowering herself to the ground. Her own ears remain laid back against her head and neck, though she glances up at the Silver Fang. Chance and another cub did. Should have called for help, but didn't.
Young, Falcon's Gambit decides as she continues to regard the other. Young full-moon. Who was other cub? She adds after a moment, and with an amused eye-squint, that it is obvious Second-Chance is no story-moon.
Earth Bones. The Fury's ears draw upward a little, though she stays pressed to the ground. Golden-rhya's cub, returning to the Sept.
Another new name! Falcon's Gambit doesn't pursue it, instead asking what happened then.
Second-Chance explains that there were lots of snakes. She was bit by one and killed it, then another and then found a big one that rattled. Her explanation of big indicates war-form size big. It was that one that killed the cub's hand. Earth Bones showed up then and helped kill the big rattling one.
Falcon's Gambit's teeth flash for the snake's size. Not a real snake. Something was wrong with it.
Second-Chance exibits the wolfish equivallent of 'Well, duh' and rolls onto her back to waggle her stub-leg in the air. Not Golden-rhya's snake, big snake and corrupt. Gone now, and her leg will grow back.
Falcon's Gambit shows her teeth again, hackles lifting. She half-stands, though as Second-Chance shows her belly the white wolf sits again and looks deliberately aside. Good. About what, she doesn't elaborate.
Second-Chance draws herself onto her side and then pushes herself upright as far as her haunches. No sign of snakes after that. She looked, saw nothing left.
You howled for the Guardians? The Fang stands again, stretching first forelegs, then back.
Second-Chance howled for help after snakes were gone. Only ones she told besides Falcon's Gambit-rhya were Icetrap-rhya and Wildfire-rhya. She believes the Theurge is a Guardian, though, he patrols the Bawn.
The Ragabash gives herself another shake. I will make sure they know, she decides once her balance is regained, and flicks an ear toward the cub. You should be sure as well. Patrolling the Bawn does not make one Guardian, or all cubs would be Guardian. She huffs, amused, and strikes off to the west at a ground-eating trot.
Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (8% full).
Burial Mounds
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
Obvious exits:
Forest
Last night's rain has finally stopped, though gray clouds still hang heavily overhead. The land feels and smells fresh in its dampened and newly cleaned state. Lingering amongst the gravemarkers, nose pushing aside the occasional leaf or stick, is a temporarily three-legged Fury cub. Yellow eyes look out from a black furred face, studying the random marker curiously before moving on to the next.
A Silver Fang emerges from behind the boulder, her scent emerging as she comes into view. You are hurt. A shake banishes stray droplets of moisture and settles her fur before she approaches the cub, nose working.
Second-Chance glances toward the Fang as scent tickles her nose, ears skewing. She explains vaguely of an unfortunate run in with a snake, while turning away from the gravemarker to greet the Ragabash properly. Good hunting for Facon's Gambit-rhya today?
'Snake' perks Falcon's Gambit's ears. Golden-rhya's spirit snake? The rest, however, has her glancing away, non-committal. I am not hunting. I am thinking. You? What are you doing here?
No. Second Chance knows nothing of Golden-rhya's snake-spirit. This was bad snake, corrupt. The Fury cub looks to the gravemarker she'd been examining just moments before. Visiting, hoping to bring ~Glory~ that those who died before will accept Chance when her time comes.
Almost into adulthood, the wolf has come into her paws and ears. She maintains a lanky appearance, however, still telling of her youth.
Her arms and legs have toned, hands and feet become paws meant for ranging across a variety of terrain and covering long distances. Her torso has become a lean, muscular lupine form. Her head is more angular, narrowing in the face as nose and mouth lengthen into a canine muzzle filled with teeth for crushing and tearing. Forehead and crown are broadened, with ears taking a wolfish cast. A tail stretches forth from her rump.
Fur in varying shades of black cover her form from nose to tail without break. The coarse guard hairs are almost glint deep gray when the light catches at the right angle. The softer undercoat sometimes shows as a chocolate brown when the sun shows through it.
Eyes of deep yellow gaze offset the dark fur, the irises flecked with bits of amber coloring.
Falcon's Gambit thinks the only dead who will help you will be your ancestors. She sits and considers the other wolf. Do you have ancestors who speak to you?
Second-Chance moves on to the next marker slowly, ears turned toward Falcon's Gambit. No spirits, barely a past. Wry humor echoes her reply, teeth bared in a lupine grin. She explains she wasn't looking for help, but trying to know who died, and visiting.
Falcon's Gambit glances incuriously toward the markers. I do not find the stones as important in this shape. A yawn, and she adds, I do not know any of the fallen. Do you?
They aren't talked about. Something the cub finds a little odd, with all the talk of glory and honor. She huffs quietly before making her way back toward the Silver Fang. Do ancestor spirits talk to Falcon's Gambit-rhya?
Cubs hunt the trail of the future, not the past, the Fang notes, not without humor of her own. They spoke to me on my Rite of Passage. Never before. She adds that perhaps the song-moons would speak of the fallen, if they were asked.
Second-Chance considers asking the song-moons. Some might know about those who fell here. Her hind quarters come to rest on the ground near the other wolf, though her gaze stays out in study of the burial mounds. She wonders if the Ragabash is happier now that she's first rank, if things are better.
Falcon's Gambit doesn't answer for a long while. Far off, a squirrel cries territory violation. Eventually she stands and shakes before padding over to nose at a fallen branch. That is many questions. I think it is better to be Cliath than cub.
Second-Chance watches the Silver Fang, ears laying back in mild worry. She is looking forward to when she's sent on her Rite of Passage, though it's still much time away. Still much to learn as a cub that's not just biting and clawing.
The Ragabash looks back and gives the Ahroun a single wave of her tail. I was told to be true to myself and Falcon. If you are true to yourself and Pegasus, you should do well.
Second-Chance stands and hops toward the Ragabash, a little goofy looking on three legs with the stub of the missing foreleg working where the appendage should be. Did Falcon's Gambit-rhya meet spirits before going on her Rite of Passage?
Falcon's Gambit turns to face her, an ear swiveling toward the insistent squirrel. Yes. Not many, but some. I am no spirit-moon, but Falcon's Grace-rhya is. But I was taught how to speak politely to them. She indicates the missing leg with a polite glance. This was a lesson?
Second-Chance supposes it could be. She learned not to stick her hands in a snake's mouth. Her tone is almost dismissive, the limb is gone but will grow back. Icetrap-rhya looked at it and wasn't concerned.
The Fang's ears flatten, just for a moment. No. Where was this spirit? Why were you bothering it?
Second-Chance looks confused, even concerned briefly. No spirit, snake. Her muzzle turns toward the west and she indicates that way, between the boundries and the black Weaver ribbon. She didn't bother it, snake bothered her.
Falcon's Gambit continues irritated, though she sits again in an effort to hide it. Snake bit off your leg.
Snake bit paw, Chance explains, ears splaying. Paw died and fell off, then arm started dying. Wildfire-rhya cut it off to keep more and cub from dying.
This news is nearly as unsettling as the rest, if the Fang's ears are anything to go by. I do not know Wildfire-rhya, she says instead. Did he kill snake?
Second-Chance whines slightly, lowering herself to the ground. Her own ears remain laid back against her head and neck, though she glances up at the Silver Fang. Chance and another cub did. Should have called for help, but didn't.
Young, Falcon's Gambit decides as she continues to regard the other. Young full-moon. Who was other cub? She adds after a moment, and with an amused eye-squint, that it is obvious Second-Chance is no story-moon.
Earth Bones. The Fury's ears draw upward a little, though she stays pressed to the ground. Golden-rhya's cub, returning to the Sept.
Another new name! Falcon's Gambit doesn't pursue it, instead asking what happened then.
Second-Chance explains that there were lots of snakes. She was bit by one and killed it, then another and then found a big one that rattled. Her explanation of big indicates war-form size big. It was that one that killed the cub's hand. Earth Bones showed up then and helped kill the big rattling one.
Falcon's Gambit's teeth flash for the snake's size. Not a real snake. Something was wrong with it.
Second-Chance exibits the wolfish equivallent of 'Well, duh' and rolls onto her back to waggle her stub-leg in the air. Not Golden-rhya's snake, big snake and corrupt. Gone now, and her leg will grow back.
Falcon's Gambit shows her teeth again, hackles lifting. She half-stands, though as Second-Chance shows her belly the white wolf sits again and looks deliberately aside. Good. About what, she doesn't elaborate.
Second-Chance draws herself onto her side and then pushes herself upright as far as her haunches. No sign of snakes after that. She looked, saw nothing left.
You howled for the Guardians? The Fang stands again, stretching first forelegs, then back.
Second-Chance howled for help after snakes were gone. Only ones she told besides Falcon's Gambit-rhya were Icetrap-rhya and Wildfire-rhya. She believes the Theurge is a Guardian, though, he patrols the Bawn.
The Ragabash gives herself another shake. I will make sure they know, she decides once her balance is regained, and flicks an ear toward the cub. You should be sure as well. Patrolling the Bawn does not make one Guardian, or all cubs would be Guardian. She huffs, amused, and strikes off to the west at a ground-eating trot.