[Katherine Bellamonte] The moon is all but gone.
It is a sliver in the sky above, and it blackens them all; turns the black Wolf to little but the suggestion of his body and those impossibly, unnaturally red eyes; burning like lava; like the last final drop of blood ever to spill in this War. Sinclair speaks again; and the Wolf finally moves.
It rises; and stands.
It looks from Asha, to Lukas, and finally, finally down at Sinclair.
We must go now. There is no more time. She cannot cross. Her time to choose is done.
It watches; impassive, impressive as the Ahroun Elder says his farewells and steps back. When he says okay, there is a sudden swell of Rage in the air. They can hear the snarl of predators, dead and gone; the clash of blades and fangs and the tang of blood; hot and vital in the air. There is a tidal wave of red; it blots out everything; everyone.
When it is over -- they are gone.
And Sinclair is alone.
You are never alone, the Voice whispers to the Glasswalker; it is full of sorrow. My child.
--
The little girl smiles over at the Theurge when she starts talking about Gaia and Luna and what means what; and its the impression of approval; but she doesn't speak another word. Not to Adamidas, not to Katherine or Gwen, nor to Danicka's question of what she was planning to help her with.
"It's time."
She says, with sage aplomb and lets go of Danicka's hand -- it tingles faintly, when she does -- and before them all there's another pop and Lukas and Asha appear; dwarfed by the massive black Wolf. It looks down at them; then follows in the footsteps of its white and gold mirror; which the others can now see.
The two Wolves, the little girl as she takes ritualized, slow steps up toward a marble throne; sitting empty until now. She moves to stand to one side of it and rests a little palm on it. The Ahrouns are now themselves standing with their brethren in an open field of wild grass; the sun and moon pass overhead at lightning speeds.
Day to Night.
Night to Say.
Light wheels over them; they do not feel the cool of the evening nor the warmth of the day.
There are two crumbling columns framing the throne; and ivy shapes itself around them. Now assembled; the three spirits speak as one; a strange and harmonious blending of feminine, masculine and child.
"Now you will see.
Now we will show you."
[Wyrmbreaker] The crossing is as sudden as any, as jarring as any. Lukas physically staggers on the other side -- wherever he's gone -- and gives his head a single, canine shake. Night and day wheel by. In the ever-shifting light, the Shadow Lord blinks, rubs the heel of his hand over his eye.
Sees Danicka. Sees Katherine. He goes to stand with them, Asha in his wake -- reaches out with his hand and takes Danicka's without comment.
For a moment he looks away from the empty throne. He looks at his mate's hand in his, and he does not question why she's here, in this world so clearly beyond mortal reach. He laces his fingers with hers, squeezes once, gently, and then raises his head to bear witness.
[Adamidas] She waits.
She's standing with Gwen, and doesn't make any overtures to indicate that she would leave Gwen's side any time soon. She's taller than she seems. It doesn't matter if she's five feet four inches tall, she's standing like she's a linebacker. She's standing like she's the President. She's standing like she's a goddamned Fostern theurge in the wake of spirit dealings.
Adam's attention flickers, briefly, from Gwen to those who came with... noting the lack of one particular party. She looks at Lukas, and cocks her head to the side. Her eyebrows knit together, then the right one arches. She doesn't say anything. The look is brief, and her attention goes back to the male, the female, the child.
Now you will see,
Now we will show you.
[Danicka Musil] Danicka and the girl have walked back towards the throne and the dais it sits on. She looks as she did before, in the hotel room, but maybe... a little taller. She holds herself straight, without making herself seem small as she has in the past, at times. She seems unafraid, for all that she doesn't belong here. She seems strangely at ease. At home.
When Lukas appears her mouth flickers with an expression that she fights only for a moment, before it blossoms to a smile. There's relief in it, and maybe even some wariness -- to some extent, Danicka only seems at ease. She notices that at least one of the number in the motel room isn't with them, but doesn't comment.
She walks through the grass, and slides her hand easily into Lukas's, looking at the wolves and the girl.
[Sinclair] They all vanish.
She can still smell Asha's blood, and she can feel Lukas's kiss to her brow, and she can hear an echo of Kate's voice. But they're gone, and she's standing in a fucking Travelodge motel room with the window open, letting in icy air, her hands gripping the windowsill. There's black-mottled droplets on the ledge from her tears.
Sinclair feels no shame. Not for that, at least.
never alone, says the Voice, matching her sadness.
"Liar," she whispers, and closes her eyes.
She stands there, the cold air outside drying black, salty streaks on her face, and waits for them to come back. Waits for something. And if she's honest (she's always honest) she doesn't entirely know what it is she's waiting for, or what it is she hopes for.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, for her part, has been a silent witness to a majority of this. When she crossed over, it was with only the tiny spoken oh and the sudden, burning need to comfort Sinclair, because she could see, suddenly, because she understood what this was. And she opened her lips to express -- what? -- something to reassure the Fostern on her knees but she could not.
Not before she was taken to see.
Not just to see, but See.
But Hear.
Like Voice, it was, it should be, it shall be Witnessed.
--
The three forms around the marble throne lift their heads; then, and begin to shimmer, and glow. The light is a soft blue-green, and within it sparkles like a silvery firecracker rush outward; dancing as the sky dances; wheeling as the stars and moon do overhead. They flow around the Garou; the darker green melding with black; the blue with the golden white; the sparkling, silver orbs with the pinkish glow emanating from the girl child.
The energy crackles the air; sets their hair on end; widens their eyes and draws gasps from their throats.
It is splendor; it is enchantment.
Where Lukas and Danicka's hands meet; the black and pink lights twist like translucent rope. While energy pours from the three creatures around the throne; rising upward to meet in a triad of pulsating; glorious light it rushes back down and hits the throne; setting off a slow, persistent hum; gentle as bees after nectar, then steadily growing in quantity, and quality of sound.
--
you are whole united
Voice says again; and it comes from that great axis point before them; where the pulsating light seems to belong. The pink energy rushes up Danicka's arm; twists around her and explodes forward; a fine mist shaping her form in the air. It adopts the stance of a human. The darker energy repeats this process on the Ahroun holding her hand and explodes outward.
It's the most curious of sensations; not painful but ... energizing. Like touching a lit bulb, and feeling the zap before it can burn.
The black mist rises before the Garou and falls to form that of a wolf.
The blue energy spreads; seeks out the Philodox present; wraps about them and again explodes outward; little pinprinks of light falling like tiny fireworks; born only to burn and die out. It repeats this process on each of those that stand before the dias; the throne and three fine mist forms; like the tribal paintings of old found on cave walls move to linger above the Wolves, the young girl.
The Wolf, Voice says and the mist form opens its jaws to howl; the Humanity, the Kinfolk shape twists and spins in a graceful dance; and the Spirit; the final mist, a free floating Orb gives a single, vicious pulse as it remains suspended there. They are the Triad of Soul, of Beast, of Man.
You are united together; but weaker apart.
Suddenly; with a pop; the light show ended. The stars and moon ceased to spiral and instead hung; perfectly suspended above the throne where no longer where there two Wolves and a Child but a single figure; seated upon it. Her hair was strung fine with the glint of stars; her eyes the golden-red of flame and Sun and her clothing the spun brilliance of the skies above.
When she smiles; the Wolves feel whole; when she looks toward the Kinfolk; they sense only home.
"I gave you each a Gift," her voice was wind, was the rush of spring water and the glory of the re-birth. "I gave you a taste of the Beyond." Her hand wheels upward; and the sky flies anew; ahead. Her eyes burn suddenly red. "You are my children; and I am your Curse, and your Creator."
[Adamidas] This is home, she thinks. How she feels. It lingers in her chest, in the pit her stomach, on her skin and in her mind and in her heart- the real one. Not the one that pumps blood and beats hard and fast. She feels equillibrium- something she's never felt before. Not a pull from the spirits or the nagging insistence of her will or even the quiet ember of rage (and only Alethea could call rage a nagging, insistent ember.)
They are united together; but weaker apart.
She watches, with her shoulders back and her head high. Her attention doesn't move just yet. We were given a gift- a real gift. She takes a second, and her mind wanders. She thinks... she thinks about how glorious it is, how it makes her feel to be what she is. How she'd felt lost, how she'd been confused... how she'd been gone, how she'd felt lost and confused.
Alethea Adamidas has been between the worlds, and is reminded for the moment that they must exist in both of them. About how special this truly is.
She can't come up with words, she just looks at the figure.
[Wyrmbreaker] Three.
The Garou know much of this number. They know it in the Triat: the Weaver, Wyrm and Wyld. They know it in themselves, those tangled forces forever battling it out within their own skins in the form of their will, their rage, their spirit.
Three, the god-spirit on the throne tells them again. Soul and Beast and Man, she says, and instantly Lukas's mind leaps to the three beings, the black wolf and the white, the girl. Danicka can feel his hand tighten on hers for a spasmodic second. Whatever he expected of his solstice night, it was not this.
It was not this.
His eyes sting. There are tears in them, and he can't say if it's the brilliance or the voice or the emotion choking him, too intense to name. He keeps ahold of his mate's hand -- of course he does, and would, whether in the face of the Creator or the Destroyer, the beginning or the end. His jaw works as he swallows, and then he lifts his chin to face the being on the throne.
"If you are our creator," he says quietly, hoarsely, "if you are -- "
the name catches in his throat; after all the times he's invoked it in the motel room, the tiny, shabby little room so entirely dwarfed by this presence that it seems a memory from another life -- after all the times he spoke the name there, he finds it hard to say it in this presence,
" -- Gaia, then you must know that we who stand before you are not the ones who most need to see you. Hear you. We are the ones who came when you called. There is another. My sister -- she -- "
Lukas can't go on. He bows his head, overcome, and squeezes his eyes shut.
[Katherine Bellamonte] The figure; Gaia, or Luna, or whatever impossible embodiment it was stares down at the gathered. She does not sit with haughtier; or with some Goddess' decree of her position above them; her palms lay flat either side of her, resting on her throne. Her face is luminescent, but it cannot be labeled beautiful without being called monstrous. It is the Two Sided.
There is Beast and Man and Spirit in her; and the passion of a million wasted, wounded souls.
"I am not Gaia," three voices speak in tandem within her, "Gaia has no true Voice to be heard, I speak on her account. I speak with the presence of Luna on this Eclipse Night. She has taken your Beast, as I have taken your Spirit from you. Your Humanity cannot be taken." The strange, potent eyes fix on the Kinfolk.
"They live in those you surround yourself with. They are the core of what makes you Human. Created from you, to remind you. Of what must come to pass in the end."
The fire is stoked again in her eyes; her voice dips lower, is violent and rough as the black Wolf rises within her form: The ones who stand before me are examples. The Daughter of Cities refused to be a Prophet. She cannot be shown what she refuses to See.
The red glow fades; and the voice is sweeter; almost child-like: "I am always with your sister."
[Danicka Musil] All the while, as colored lights move along their bodies and dance in the air in front of her, Danicka's eyes are tracking them. She's as curious as an animal cub, in some ways, flicking her gaze here and there, following. Her hand never leaves Lukas's, and she doesn't move from his side. Good, obedient kinswoman. Good, loving mate. But her eyes darken slightly as the Voice speaks to them.
Lukas speaks to the Curse, the Creator, and her hand flexes gently with his, holding it a little more tightly. It is all but imperceptible to those around them, and why not? That she should try to comfort him is as inexplicable as Lukas showing, this openly, how close to overcome he is. How pained.
The grip of her smaller hand on his is sustained.
There's no sudden weakness in her knees in the face of a spirit that speaks for Gaia. She doesn't bow. Nor does she speak, though that's hardly surprising, either: it takes a lot for Danicka to unfurl her thoughts in front of anyone, even those she trusts.
Danicka looks back at the figure on the throne as it fixes its own gaze on her. Words come from the Voice, and her eyebrows tug together slightly. Whatever that look is, it fades a moment later.
[Wyrmbreaker] "But she doesn't know that."
There's tension in Lukas's form. Of course there is: he's speaking to the Curse, the Creator, she who speaks on Gaia's behalf. He's not just speaking -- he may as well be arguing.
"She feels alone. She feels that what you've given her has destroyed everything else in her life. Everything she wants or needs or loves. She said she's tired of being jerked around, of having this ... gift or curse or whatever it is thrust upon her without her knowledge or permission.
"What am I supposed to tell her when I go back to her? What do you want for her?"
[Adamidas] "Wyrmbreaker-" and her voice is even. It is about as calm as she can be in the presence of something that speaks on behalf of the divine (they all do- all are of Gaia, and as such, there is something inherently sacred about all things). She looks at him, but stays where she is.
"She made a choice, and she is not with us right now... when she's ready, she'll listen, and when she's ready, she'll understand... but that's not right now. It's your duty as her Alpha, her friend, and her brother-" the word is more sacred than that of the other two "-to help her become ready. She'll come around, or she won't. At the end of the day, you can't wish this for her. This is, ultimately, an acceptance of the Self. I don't know what your sister has lived through, but you and your brothers and your sisters do.
"We don't ask for permission to exist and Be. The best that you can do is understand why she feels alone, and attempt to remedy that. No matter what you tell her, or the Spirits tell her, at the end of the day she is the one who makes the choice to accept or reject it."
[Danicka Musil] Without taking her hand from Lukas, and knowing full well that this may be the only chance she ever gets, Danicka suddenly speaks up.
"Is that all we are?" she asks the figure. "Made from the leftovers of the creation of the Garou? Are we really nothing more than what we can be to them? Do we serve no other purpose to you?"
[Katherine Bellamonte] When the figure moves; she takes the alignment of this universe; this place with her.
Stars and moon shape themselves around her motion; as she leans to one side of her dais; her throne that is not really hers at all but the impression of one; as she is the impression of gathered Gods and Warriors and the embodiment of all that is and will be. As a figure; she leans to one side, all the better to lean down toward each that address her.
The Ahroun receives the eyes of fire; the voice of his own Rage speaks to him.
"She sees what I have given this day as a blessing; therefore she sees me as her Curse. That is my role to her. So that is what I become after tonight; the Curse of anger." The fire fades; and a softer, warmer glow takes possession and turns her hair to fire-spun gold. "I want her love. I want her devotion. But these things are hers alone to give, you cannot force my hand, as you cannot make her love my offerings."
The Theurge speaks, then, and the figure blends to the world as she shifts; leaning the other way. "You are the Child of the Spirit Self," she addresses Adamidas. "You speak for them, to them. Do not neglect them in these coming days, my Daughter. You are going to need them."
Then, the Kinfolk speaks up; and the figure on the throne straightens, and her face morphs, her smile is the forced manifestation of the girl-child within, plastered atop that of a grown female form; it's more than slightly impossible. But then, they are not on their own plane of existance. "You are the future. When I took their anger, their Gifts from them tonight, there is a reason why they retained only that which they had always to begin with.
You are everything.
You are the stone amongst the grass.
The building block and point of origin.
Without you, they are Doomed souls. You are their greatest teachers; you give them Gifts they do not see, or grasp. But they will, after the End of Things. Your love, your wisdom and your strength will be what keeps this world alight. You are made from them, but you are forged by elements as great as I. Know your power, and embrace it."
The child fades; absorbed back into the whole; the figure rears back.
"Do you wish your Beasts returned now, or would you the remainder of this night without them, as my Gift for hearkening to the call?"
[Danicka Musil] Something in Danicka understands -- knows, intuitively -- why the universe changes when the figure moves. Sees that shift of celestial bodies, real or imagined, and how they correspond to the movement of an arm, the tilt of a head, the sound of the Voice. Danicka notices that the throne isn't really there, that it -- no more than the grass, the pillars, any of it -- never really was.
The truth is, something about the smile of a young girl shown with the figure of a woman below it sickens Danicka in a way she can't articulate, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Even as Lukas looks at her, because he alone has much reason to and he alone has much chance of understanding what he sees, she remains as challenging to read as she was when he barely knew her.
There's no sudden rush of relief in her, no gently burgeoning smile on her lips when she's told you are everything. To call Danicka a skeptic or a cynic denies much of what she is, but there is not a drop of innocence left to her. There hasn't been for a long time. She lacks naivete yet somehow avoids pessimism.
After she's given her answer, she turns to look at Lukas, meeting his eyes for a moment. As she's looking at him, the spirit asks them if they wish to have their wolves returned to them. There's a propecy of motion in Danicka's hand where it laces with his, prophecy that never sees fruition. Her expression does not change.
[Danicka Musil] [And since she's willfully concealing her reactions to Stuff...
Manip + Subt]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Danicka Musil] [...SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Wyrmbreaker] [i gotta take that bait. EMPATHEE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Adamidas] [Per+empathy: I LIKE ROLLING THIS! (+1 diff, doesn't know Danicka at ALL)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Danicka Musil] [Because I'm nice, and she failed her first try, and because she's kinda trying to communicate something to Lukas there in the first glance: she's got some doubts about this experience, and this spirit. It isn't necessarily wariness, but she's not wholly committed to believing everything it says.]
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas listens with furrowed brow; listens carefully as the spirit answers him; listens as carefully as she answers Danicka.
At the end he looks away. He looks at Danicka instead, studying her face, her eyes. Once or twice, his hand firms on hers, but he says nothing; makes no remark or gesture. A moment after, he looks to Kate; to Asha; to Adamidas, and then to the spirit again.
"I want to be without my Wolf for the remainder of the night," he says. It's quiet but clear, and without hesitation. "Give me until the dawn, Spirit, and I will be -- I am -- grateful to you."
[Adamidas] This was when there was hesitation. She looks at the spirit, and she thinks. She's obviously thinking. She looked from Danicka, from her nice cheekbones and her hair, to Lukas. She looks at Gwen, at Asha, at the sky, at the vines, at anything she can look at, as though they would give her the answers, or at least give her enough time to think.
Because it takes her time. In the end, it's an acceptance of self, and the Fury has her own answer.
"I want to stay as I am right now," she says, "until the eclipse is over."
Because it's different, now. It's different when it's voluntary. She doesn't hurt to think of it. Her throat doesn't hurt, her stomach doesn't growl, she doesn't feel like she's going to throw up. Nothing has been taken.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Whatever this spirit is, whoever she is the manifestation of in her various forms; she does not seem to carry any personable characteristics; she is at once the giddy joy of a child and the weary anger of a warrior; she was the embodiment of their spirit and the pure joy of their lives. Whatever cause had set Gaia and Luna to meld together in this spirit was untold; and likely never would be.
The Theurge Elder would assure them of this fact; that you could never hope to yield forth the secrets of spirits.
Her question has answers, a yes from the Theurge, from the Ahrouns, from the Philodox females as well. Katherine in particular, seemed most eager to remain without her Wolf; her face reading at once hope and agony at the thought of its eventual return to her.
"It is done, then." The spirit says; paying testament to their replies.
"Remember this night; my Warriors, my Soldiers all of you before me. You are my Prophets; and this is the story you tell. That you saw a vision this night without Beasts, that you know the end is coming for good or not. That you fight for a real cause, and not the idea of one."
There's a crack of light from above, and as reality fades from them; they can hear, distant, called over the fading reach of one reality to another: I am with you, always.
--
The next memory they have; they are standing within their motel room, clocks read but moments have passed since they vanished. There is no trace of Rage among them.
There shall not be, until the new dawn.
[Danicka Musil] Her hand flexes in Lukas's when he tells the spirit -- whatever it is, wherever it came form -- that he wants to remain as he is until dawn. Just a little longer. She has nothing to say to that, no wolf to lose or regain but the one that she's standing beside.
Words flow through her mind, and then her eyes blink, only to open again upon a tattered room filled with the Garou she was with before. Her hand is still linked to Wyrmbreaker's, and she turns her head to look at him. Her voice is soft.
"I'll wait for you in the car," is all she says, before she gives his hand one last squeeze and parts them. She takes his keys, and her shawl, and leaves him with Gwen and Adamidas and his packmates, for now.
[Wyrmbreaker] Questions, questions. Perhaps it's no surprise that the Ahroun, least spiritual of all the auspices, should be the one with the most questions. "Wait," he says, "what does that -- "
and then nothing. A crack in reality, an instant or an eternity, and his only awareness the grip of his mate's hand in his. No pack, no Wolf, no rage, no spirit. Just himself: human, as he never was and never truly could be.
In the next moment his eyes open and he's in the Travelodge again. They're all there, those who made it. The two Garou and one kin who didn't show up still haven't shown up. Lukas looks around, half-dazed, half-dazzled. He sees his packmates but cannot feel them. He looks down at the squeeze of Danicka's hand, then up: finds her eyes, does not find words.
He just nods. And as she's drawing away, he pulls her closer; kisses her once, a quick but firm plant of his mouth to the corner of hers before he lets go.
She takes his keys and her shawl. He takes a breath and looks at the others.
"Adamidas," he says quietly, "can you bring news of this to the Caern? Make certain the Sept knows that ... "
a hesitation; a moment of thought, his mind slow, still awhirl from the events of the night.
"That we've been given a message of hope," he says at last, half-faltering, "to serve as a light on the... longest and darkest of nights. I want to stay and talk to my packmates awhile."
[Sinclair] They aren't gone very long. The eclipse is still in progress, and every so often Sinclair looks at it. She waits. Any other night and she might have gone with them, if only to bear witness. To remember. To do her job. Tonight she couldn't. Refused to.
Then there's a sound, a sensation, and they're with her again. Sinclair is as she was when they were taken away, standing before the open window with her hands planted on the sill. She turns her head and looks at them; they're okay. They look much the same. Unchanged. She looks in herself, as she takes her hands off the windowsill and straightens, and knows the same is true for her.
Her wolf is still gone. Her connection to Perun is gone. The presence of her packmates in her mind is gone.
She watches in silence as Lukas lets go of his mate and as he speaks to Adamidas. Sinclair closes the window and the room is icy, ice cold. The heater finally kicks on, rattling, choking out lukewarm air. Sinclair, who is not sure she is a Galliard right now any more than she's sure of anything, leans against the wall by the window and crosses her arms over her chest.
[Danicka Musil] [And Danicka's out until followup scenage on another date! Thank you all for the scene! Jacqui, thank you sooo much for STing! :D ]
[Adamidas] "No prob," she says. she arrives back at the Travelodge, and goes to gather up her things. Backpack goes on her back, messenger bag goes on her shoulder, and she turns to look at Gwen. She grins a litle at her, the left side of her mouth upturns more than the right. She takes a few steps forward, "c'mon Gwen, let's go be messengers. It's a fine art."
She leaves with Gwen, whether they stay together or not is an entirely different story. Whether she tells the tale with glory and amazingness is a different story. Alethea Adamidas runs on pure charisma. She leaves with little fanfare after that, and the Fury gets to walking.
She takes the door, not the mirror.
celebration.
11 years ago