08-15-2013, 10:21 PM
More than a few people notice that the sisters of Desert Oracle, devoted to Themis, have opened both the last moot and this one. Avery notices when she arrives, drawn by the growing sound of chanting. The spirits are already gathering in the area when they cross into the penumbra together, and Avery loses a gasp from her throat when a broad-winged spectre of Falcon flies low and close over the white-furred Fangs who have come to this moot.
There are noticable gaps in the crowd. There were always at least some of the guardians of Cold Crescent who would make their way to the caern for the moot; they took turns, no one of them ever completely shut out from the restoration that comes from being here.
Now they are all shut off. They are all gone. And the elders of Cold Crescent
are also absent.
Avery swallows hard, to see that. It makes the beginning of her howl falter when she opens her throat to join the rest of the garou. Her people. Many of them die every day. Tonight, at least, it feels that most of them live.
There are noticable gaps in the crowd. There were always at least some of the guardians of Cold Crescent who would make their way to the caern for the moot; they took turns, no one of them ever completely shut out from the restoration that comes from being here.
Now they are all shut off. They are all gone. And the elders of Cold Crescent
are also absent.
Avery swallows hard, to see that. It makes the beginning of her howl falter when she opens her throat to join the rest of the garou. Her people. Many of them die every day. Tonight, at least, it feels that most of them live.
my whole life is thunder.