Just be quiet and watch.
Saturday, 31 December 2011 18:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouJust be quiet and watch…
31 December, 2011
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (43% full).
Winter darkness has fallen, and the curtains have been drawn closed, blocking out all light from the street. The ritual room, normally so clean and empty, now seems to be a yawning cave, with the only illumination being three lit candles, set at roughly equi-distance from each other along the edges of a large circle drawn in the center of the floor with what looks to be chalk. Mouse is here, on her knees in front of one of the candles, with her back to the door. There's a metal case nearby, open. And four simple, stoneware bowls set around the circle at the cardinal points. Only one contains anything—a few twigs, what might be moss, paper.
Light from the hallway draws a sharp line across the floor as Kavi leads the boys inside. To Devon, he nods and gestures toward Mouse. To Flint, he simply whispers, "Just be quiet, and watch, and do what she says."
Freshly showered and smelling sharply of the soap he'd been given, Devon glances toward Kavi as he follows the elder Galliard into the ritual room. A flick of his eyes acknowledges Flint's presence, but only just as he nods to Kavi's instructions and turns to Mouse. Hands rake fingers through his hair, tousling the already unkempt mop as he moves deeper into the room, eyes moving from his elder to the circle and its accouterments.
Flint nods to Kavi's words, stepping to the side where he's told to. His hands are folded in front of him, and he's calm, curiosity showing plainly in the tilt of his head and taking in of his surroundings.
Mouse points, without looking directly at Devon, "Stand in the circle, if you please. And take warform. Someone close the door."
Kavi does, once the boys are both beyond the threshold, turning the knob to keep the closing quiet. As darkness settles around him, he comes to take his place at the edge of the circle.
Devon drops his gaze to the floor as he crosses over the line drawn upon it, feet quietly shuffling as he puts himself in place. He doesn't glance around this time, head coming up as he shifts, changing from homid to glabro and finally taking Crinos.
Flint remains still, simply listening attentively, and watching. His gaze rests on Devon as the older cub shifts, before going back to moving over the room.
Mouse eases up, and at first she just seems to be straightening in place, but no, that smooth movement continues as she shifts as well, up into her particularly deformed version of crinos as well. Between her hands, now much larger and clawed, a sharp, cinnamon smell rises from what looks to be an actual, burning censer, which she pulls up with her, letting it begin to sway slowly back and forth, that scent starting to fill the room. ~Bridge-Builder, if you could translate for the cub, quietly. You two will be guardians. Take up a candle and stand at the edge of the circle, but don't step inside.~
Kavi gives a single nod to Mouse, and whispers the instructions for Flint. Bending slowly, he takes up the candle at his feet, and nods to the younger cub to do the same.
One-Foot-Forward's nose gives a twitch, head turning toward the smell of cinnamon. He looks for a moment at the censer then past, to Mouse, ears splaying a little.
Flint takes up a candle himself, nodding after the instructions. So much attention is paid to the goings on that the younger cub does not even fidget.
First-Strike lets the censer dangle from her claws as its methodical swaying seems to pick up—in the poor lighting, it doesn't even look like the Theurge is making it do this. Then she begins to step—slowly, as if to some unheard rhythm. She swings the censer toward Devon first, and the cub gets a nose-full of the thick scent, heady but not unpleasant. It's enough to make the senses swim, adding to the surreal feeling that seems to permeate the room.
The Walker elder paces the circle, pausing once to cense Kavi, and then blows toward one of the bowls. The second bowl she passes gets a flick of her claws, filling suddenly and inexplicably with loose, damp soil. The third fills with water, and as she passes Flint, he too gets censed. And finally she returns to her beginning spot, where she sets down the censer, and fire springs brilliantly and hungrily into being.
Kavi keeps still as the elder paces her circle, but his gaze follows her movement. He lifts the candle a little higher as she returns to her place, as though greeting her flame with the one in his hand.
One-Foot-Forward's eyes lower slightly as the scent and sense overtake him, ears lowering a bit more. He studies the floor dimly lit by the glow from the candles, letting his hearing tell him where everyone is.
Flint watches both the elder and the older cub, the boy holding the candle in front of him steadily in both hands.
First-Strike turns to that metal case, and comes up with a squat jar filled with some sort of blue, thick paste, which smells rather sugary, almost like honey. More worryingly, she also retrieves a small but sharp looking knife. She dips a claw into the jar and leans over, her feet still outside the circle itself. ~When I was a child,~ she drags that paste over One-Foot-Forward's fur, painting the glyph for Ahroun on one side of his chest, ~I spake as a child, I understood as a child,~ she paints the glyph for homid on the opposite side of his chest. ~But when I became a man,~ and now her claw dips again, this time painting the glyph for Glass Walker on Devon's forehead, ~I put away childish things.~
The incense smell continues to grow heavier, and in the darkness of the room, which seems at once very small and impossibly large, there's a sense of…something. Something along the walls, moving. Occasionally the candlelight catches against a few shiny black carapaces.
~Hold out your hand,~ First-Strike says to the Ahroun cub.
Kavi maintains his position, his breathing slow and even, though there's an intensity now to his gaze.
One-Foot-Forward stands still, silent, head canted enough to allow a glimpse at the glyphs being drawn on his chest. His eyes close briefly while the final one is placed upon his forehead, opening again at Mouse's request. One hand is extended toward her, palm up and open.
First-Strike draws the knife sharply across Devon's outstretched hand, opening a slice from his palm nearly to the elbow, but as sharp as it is, it's just a normal knife, and his injury starts to heal immediately. She pulls the knife back, dripping, and proceeds to do the same thing to her own arm. Once more, the Theurge paces the circle, this time letting both her blood and Devon's drip along the edges, staining the chalk line. ~As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.~
The air seems to get heavier and heavier with each step she takes. The fire in the bowl dims. The candles flicker. Darkness seems to creep right up to the very edges of the circle, and the circle's two candle-holding guardians. And somewhere beyond, felt almost more than seen, there are eyes. Dozens and dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny, black, watching insect eyes.
As First-Strike returns to her original place again, she intones, ~We stand outside time, in a place not of earth. As our ancestors before us bade, we join together and are One.~ And for a moment, all is breatheless silence and impossible anticipation.
Kavi's breathing slows further, shallow and light, almost stopped, as he watches and the effects of the ritual manifest.
A flaring of nostrils is the closest to a flinch the Ahroun cub shows outwardly at the knife's cut. His hand clenches into a fist for just a second, gaze lifting to look at the increasing darkness beyond the circle.
Flint watches, paying apt attention, his own breathing slowing down. More attention is paid to Mouse than to the whispered translation, and for some things, there is understanding at a deeper level, no matter the tongue. The young cub stills, beyond silent in his paying attention.
First-Strike abruptly breaks the silence by tossing her head back and howling, filling the room with full throated, spine-tingling noise. There's a sense there, a welcome for others to join in, as her howl rises to a crescendo and then slowly dies away. ~Lords of the Quarters! Come and see a cub who wishes to become Garou! Cockroach! He who walks between the Weaver's webs! Child of the city, father of a thousand, thousand children, Patron of the Glass Walkers!
One-Foot-Forward, child of the Full Moon, begins his first steps to become one of your children!~
Kavi lifts his chin, as well, and in that smooth motion, he's changed from homid to crinos, and the sound from his throat is a howl. It joins with First-Strike's, blending to create an even larger sound.
One-Foot-Forward's feet move a little, shifting when the howling chases away the silence. His ears draw forward, anticipation read in his posture and expression, though he tries to hold himself still and within the lines on the floor.
For the young cub, this shift to crinos is controlled, voluntary, as he too joins in the howl. After that, though, he falls still, the candle held very carefully in All-In-Stride's hands.
First-Strike picks up the candle at her feet, holding it so that it throws odd light and shadows over her beastial face. There's a faint rustling from all sides, the sound of uncountable wings brushing against slick carapaces. ~Tonight is your vigil,~ she says to One-Foot-Forward, and while she doesn't seem to be speaking with the weight of ceremony any longer, there's still something surreal about her tone. ~You will stay in this room, in this form, until we come for you in the morning. You will not harm Cockroach's children when they come to you, nor will you drive them away. Sleep. Meditate. Daydream. Tonight and for hopefully all nights to come, Cockroach's eyes are on you. In the morning, you will have your task to prove yourself Cliath.~ She turns her head. ~All-in-Stride, blow out your candle and exit the room. Bridge-Builder, do the same once he has gone.~
Kavi's howl ends abruplty as First Strike begins to speak. More slowly, he slips back down to his birth form, and nods to the elder. Turning his gaze to the other cub, he translates the directions in a quiet whisper, and then waits, before he follows.
Flint nods, shifting back not long after Kavi does, though it is slower. He slips out of the room quietly, going into the hall and towards the cub's bunkroom.
One-Foot-Forward looks to the elder as she speaks again, head tipping forward with acceptance of the instructions. His gaze flicks toward Flint and then Kavi as they take their turns at leaving. He looks back to First-Strike again, then beyond to the darkness and the sounds of life. He lowers himself carefully, legs folding in front of him and hands resting on knees. To sit and wait for morning to come.
First-Strike lifts her own candle to her lips, and blows. Darkness reigns, except for that thin light from the hallway, but soon enough she's shrinking down to homid and stepping out with her various Theurgely implements. When the door closes, the entire room is plunged into blackness.
Morning comes as it will, whether slowly or quickly depends on the cub's patience for complete darkness and crawly things. Eventually sunlight floods under and around the heavy curtain, and Devon will find himself mostly alone, apart from a few straggler roaches in the corners. Mouse comes for him then, as promised. Before he's even given the option of breakfast (or another shower), she lays out his terms:
There been someone causing Problems, someone Mouse suspects may well be a ghoul leftover from a raid on a vampire lair that occurred some time ago. He's been spotted near the alley entrance to the tunnels that the vampires were using, and Devon's task is to remove this person. Quickly. Quietly. "Without drawing any unwanted attention," Mouse emphasizes. And with that, his true test begins.
The dark was weathered fairly well, with the crawling things for creepy company. Devon remained unmoved in the hours he was alone, found sitting just as he was when he'd been left the night before. He's quick to rise to his feet, listening to the terms with look of consideration on his war form's face. In human gesture, the Ahroun nods once, looking from the elder to the door.
31 December, 2011
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (43% full).
Winter darkness has fallen, and the curtains have been drawn closed, blocking out all light from the street. The ritual room, normally so clean and empty, now seems to be a yawning cave, with the only illumination being three lit candles, set at roughly equi-distance from each other along the edges of a large circle drawn in the center of the floor with what looks to be chalk. Mouse is here, on her knees in front of one of the candles, with her back to the door. There's a metal case nearby, open. And four simple, stoneware bowls set around the circle at the cardinal points. Only one contains anything—a few twigs, what might be moss, paper.
Light from the hallway draws a sharp line across the floor as Kavi leads the boys inside. To Devon, he nods and gestures toward Mouse. To Flint, he simply whispers, "Just be quiet, and watch, and do what she says."
Freshly showered and smelling sharply of the soap he'd been given, Devon glances toward Kavi as he follows the elder Galliard into the ritual room. A flick of his eyes acknowledges Flint's presence, but only just as he nods to Kavi's instructions and turns to Mouse. Hands rake fingers through his hair, tousling the already unkempt mop as he moves deeper into the room, eyes moving from his elder to the circle and its accouterments.
Flint nods to Kavi's words, stepping to the side where he's told to. His hands are folded in front of him, and he's calm, curiosity showing plainly in the tilt of his head and taking in of his surroundings.
Mouse points, without looking directly at Devon, "Stand in the circle, if you please. And take warform. Someone close the door."
Kavi does, once the boys are both beyond the threshold, turning the knob to keep the closing quiet. As darkness settles around him, he comes to take his place at the edge of the circle.
Devon drops his gaze to the floor as he crosses over the line drawn upon it, feet quietly shuffling as he puts himself in place. He doesn't glance around this time, head coming up as he shifts, changing from homid to glabro and finally taking Crinos.
Flint remains still, simply listening attentively, and watching. His gaze rests on Devon as the older cub shifts, before going back to moving over the room.
Mouse eases up, and at first she just seems to be straightening in place, but no, that smooth movement continues as she shifts as well, up into her particularly deformed version of crinos as well. Between her hands, now much larger and clawed, a sharp, cinnamon smell rises from what looks to be an actual, burning censer, which she pulls up with her, letting it begin to sway slowly back and forth, that scent starting to fill the room. ~Bridge-Builder, if you could translate for the cub, quietly. You two will be guardians. Take up a candle and stand at the edge of the circle, but don't step inside.~
Kavi gives a single nod to Mouse, and whispers the instructions for Flint. Bending slowly, he takes up the candle at his feet, and nods to the younger cub to do the same.
One-Foot-Forward's nose gives a twitch, head turning toward the smell of cinnamon. He looks for a moment at the censer then past, to Mouse, ears splaying a little.
Flint takes up a candle himself, nodding after the instructions. So much attention is paid to the goings on that the younger cub does not even fidget.
First-Strike lets the censer dangle from her claws as its methodical swaying seems to pick up—in the poor lighting, it doesn't even look like the Theurge is making it do this. Then she begins to step—slowly, as if to some unheard rhythm. She swings the censer toward Devon first, and the cub gets a nose-full of the thick scent, heady but not unpleasant. It's enough to make the senses swim, adding to the surreal feeling that seems to permeate the room.
The Walker elder paces the circle, pausing once to cense Kavi, and then blows toward one of the bowls. The second bowl she passes gets a flick of her claws, filling suddenly and inexplicably with loose, damp soil. The third fills with water, and as she passes Flint, he too gets censed. And finally she returns to her beginning spot, where she sets down the censer, and fire springs brilliantly and hungrily into being.
Kavi keeps still as the elder paces her circle, but his gaze follows her movement. He lifts the candle a little higher as she returns to her place, as though greeting her flame with the one in his hand.
One-Foot-Forward's eyes lower slightly as the scent and sense overtake him, ears lowering a bit more. He studies the floor dimly lit by the glow from the candles, letting his hearing tell him where everyone is.
Flint watches both the elder and the older cub, the boy holding the candle in front of him steadily in both hands.
First-Strike turns to that metal case, and comes up with a squat jar filled with some sort of blue, thick paste, which smells rather sugary, almost like honey. More worryingly, she also retrieves a small but sharp looking knife. She dips a claw into the jar and leans over, her feet still outside the circle itself. ~When I was a child,~ she drags that paste over One-Foot-Forward's fur, painting the glyph for Ahroun on one side of his chest, ~I spake as a child, I understood as a child,~ she paints the glyph for homid on the opposite side of his chest. ~But when I became a man,~ and now her claw dips again, this time painting the glyph for Glass Walker on Devon's forehead, ~I put away childish things.~
The incense smell continues to grow heavier, and in the darkness of the room, which seems at once very small and impossibly large, there's a sense of…something. Something along the walls, moving. Occasionally the candlelight catches against a few shiny black carapaces.
~Hold out your hand,~ First-Strike says to the Ahroun cub.
Kavi maintains his position, his breathing slow and even, though there's an intensity now to his gaze.
One-Foot-Forward stands still, silent, head canted enough to allow a glimpse at the glyphs being drawn on his chest. His eyes close briefly while the final one is placed upon his forehead, opening again at Mouse's request. One hand is extended toward her, palm up and open.
First-Strike draws the knife sharply across Devon's outstretched hand, opening a slice from his palm nearly to the elbow, but as sharp as it is, it's just a normal knife, and his injury starts to heal immediately. She pulls the knife back, dripping, and proceeds to do the same thing to her own arm. Once more, the Theurge paces the circle, this time letting both her blood and Devon's drip along the edges, staining the chalk line. ~As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.~
The air seems to get heavier and heavier with each step she takes. The fire in the bowl dims. The candles flicker. Darkness seems to creep right up to the very edges of the circle, and the circle's two candle-holding guardians. And somewhere beyond, felt almost more than seen, there are eyes. Dozens and dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny, black, watching insect eyes.
As First-Strike returns to her original place again, she intones, ~We stand outside time, in a place not of earth. As our ancestors before us bade, we join together and are One.~ And for a moment, all is breatheless silence and impossible anticipation.
Kavi's breathing slows further, shallow and light, almost stopped, as he watches and the effects of the ritual manifest.
A flaring of nostrils is the closest to a flinch the Ahroun cub shows outwardly at the knife's cut. His hand clenches into a fist for just a second, gaze lifting to look at the increasing darkness beyond the circle.
Flint watches, paying apt attention, his own breathing slowing down. More attention is paid to Mouse than to the whispered translation, and for some things, there is understanding at a deeper level, no matter the tongue. The young cub stills, beyond silent in his paying attention.
First-Strike abruptly breaks the silence by tossing her head back and howling, filling the room with full throated, spine-tingling noise. There's a sense there, a welcome for others to join in, as her howl rises to a crescendo and then slowly dies away. ~Lords of the Quarters! Come and see a cub who wishes to become Garou! Cockroach! He who walks between the Weaver's webs! Child of the city, father of a thousand, thousand children, Patron of the Glass Walkers!
One-Foot-Forward, child of the Full Moon, begins his first steps to become one of your children!~
Kavi lifts his chin, as well, and in that smooth motion, he's changed from homid to crinos, and the sound from his throat is a howl. It joins with First-Strike's, blending to create an even larger sound.
One-Foot-Forward's feet move a little, shifting when the howling chases away the silence. His ears draw forward, anticipation read in his posture and expression, though he tries to hold himself still and within the lines on the floor.
For the young cub, this shift to crinos is controlled, voluntary, as he too joins in the howl. After that, though, he falls still, the candle held very carefully in All-In-Stride's hands.
First-Strike picks up the candle at her feet, holding it so that it throws odd light and shadows over her beastial face. There's a faint rustling from all sides, the sound of uncountable wings brushing against slick carapaces. ~Tonight is your vigil,~ she says to One-Foot-Forward, and while she doesn't seem to be speaking with the weight of ceremony any longer, there's still something surreal about her tone. ~You will stay in this room, in this form, until we come for you in the morning. You will not harm Cockroach's children when they come to you, nor will you drive them away. Sleep. Meditate. Daydream. Tonight and for hopefully all nights to come, Cockroach's eyes are on you. In the morning, you will have your task to prove yourself Cliath.~ She turns her head. ~All-in-Stride, blow out your candle and exit the room. Bridge-Builder, do the same once he has gone.~
Kavi's howl ends abruplty as First Strike begins to speak. More slowly, he slips back down to his birth form, and nods to the elder. Turning his gaze to the other cub, he translates the directions in a quiet whisper, and then waits, before he follows.
Flint nods, shifting back not long after Kavi does, though it is slower. He slips out of the room quietly, going into the hall and towards the cub's bunkroom.
One-Foot-Forward looks to the elder as she speaks again, head tipping forward with acceptance of the instructions. His gaze flicks toward Flint and then Kavi as they take their turns at leaving. He looks back to First-Strike again, then beyond to the darkness and the sounds of life. He lowers himself carefully, legs folding in front of him and hands resting on knees. To sit and wait for morning to come.
First-Strike lifts her own candle to her lips, and blows. Darkness reigns, except for that thin light from the hallway, but soon enough she's shrinking down to homid and stepping out with her various Theurgely implements. When the door closes, the entire room is plunged into blackness.
Morning comes as it will, whether slowly or quickly depends on the cub's patience for complete darkness and crawly things. Eventually sunlight floods under and around the heavy curtain, and Devon will find himself mostly alone, apart from a few straggler roaches in the corners. Mouse comes for him then, as promised. Before he's even given the option of breakfast (or another shower), she lays out his terms:
There been someone causing Problems, someone Mouse suspects may well be a ghoul leftover from a raid on a vampire lair that occurred some time ago. He's been spotted near the alley entrance to the tunnels that the vampires were using, and Devon's task is to remove this person. Quickly. Quietly. "Without drawing any unwanted attention," Mouse emphasizes. And with that, his true test begins.
The dark was weathered fairly well, with the crawling things for creepy company. Devon remained unmoved in the hours he was alone, found sitting just as he was when he'd been left the night before. He's quick to rise to his feet, listening to the terms with look of consideration on his war form's face. In human gesture, the Ahroun nods once, looking from the elder to the door.