01-29-2015, 10:14 PM
It's unseasonably warm for February. Not two weeks ago it was seventy-five in the middle of a late January day. That's how it is in Colorado, some say. You get used to how changeable it is, if that's something it's really possible to get used to... since it's always changing. Others feel the warmth and their minds turn to the rising temperatures of the oceans, the alterations in migratory patterns, the inevitable consequences of days that live like a memory of summer in the dead center of winter. Today it was in the fifties. Sunny. But it drops when the sun goes down. Moon comes out. Rises full and swollen in a clear, ink-colored sky.
A year ago this moon, King and Pawn was a fostern, and he stood to call the Garou together. He howled, and he summoned Earth and Thunder and the broods of the tribal totems, and they gave of themselves to feed the caern. But that was a year ago. He has a scar now that he did not have then. He is an Adren of his tribe now. And standing in the shadows of the red fountain formations in Forgotten Questions is the newly-minted Cliath he has been mentoring, a skinny whip of a thing only recently named Fallen Star.
A bizarrely beautiful name for a rather awkward young man, if we're honest.
It is dark where he stands. Past his feet is the moonlight, dim and changeable. He opens his arms to either side and begins to howl. Slowly he shifts to glabro when his voice threatens to give out, and slowly then to crinos. He howls his throat raw and after that, he sends the impression of his voice into the talons of spirit-crows, flying to the Garou here and in the city, summoning them, though most are already on their way. Travelers passing nearby hear the howl and turn their feet toward Denver, realizing they are just a few miles -- a short run -- from something that will feed their spirit and possibly keep them safe another night.
As they gather, spirits begin to emerge from those shadows. A heavy rock creature rumbles up and stomps into the fire that King and Pawn tends. The sky overhead cracks with thunder though no clouds block the light, no storm is on its way. The visage of mighty Fenris, the gallop of Pegasus, the writhe of Chimera. Winged creatures and scuttling ones all play with the shadows, run forward into the flame, making it grow. They are called to give blessing and they give it in sacrifice. This is the way of things.
This is how the Garou live. And how they recognize the spirits that they protect.
A year ago this moon, King and Pawn was a fostern, and he stood to call the Garou together. He howled, and he summoned Earth and Thunder and the broods of the tribal totems, and they gave of themselves to feed the caern. But that was a year ago. He has a scar now that he did not have then. He is an Adren of his tribe now. And standing in the shadows of the red fountain formations in Forgotten Questions is the newly-minted Cliath he has been mentoring, a skinny whip of a thing only recently named Fallen Star.
A bizarrely beautiful name for a rather awkward young man, if we're honest.
It is dark where he stands. Past his feet is the moonlight, dim and changeable. He opens his arms to either side and begins to howl. Slowly he shifts to glabro when his voice threatens to give out, and slowly then to crinos. He howls his throat raw and after that, he sends the impression of his voice into the talons of spirit-crows, flying to the Garou here and in the city, summoning them, though most are already on their way. Travelers passing nearby hear the howl and turn their feet toward Denver, realizing they are just a few miles -- a short run -- from something that will feed their spirit and possibly keep them safe another night.
As they gather, spirits begin to emerge from those shadows. A heavy rock creature rumbles up and stomps into the fire that King and Pawn tends. The sky overhead cracks with thunder though no clouds block the light, no storm is on its way. The visage of mighty Fenris, the gallop of Pegasus, the writhe of Chimera. Winged creatures and scuttling ones all play with the shadows, run forward into the flame, making it grow. They are called to give blessing and they give it in sacrifice. This is the way of things.
This is how the Garou live. And how they recognize the spirits that they protect.
my whole life is thunder.