02-06-2014, 10:40 AM
On the Caern lands, Siren of Persephone slips into the penumbra as easily as taking one step and then another, the Gauntlet is so thin and her spiritual acuity so great. She walks with her sister, her tall frame wrapped in thick winter clothing, not bundled so thoroughly that she's unrecognizable, but still it is so. damn. cold.
Once across and in the gathering place surrounded by the Garou of Cold Crescent and the Garou of Forgotten Questions and all those who move easily between the two septs, Phoebe sheds her human skin, her figure soaring upward into Crinos, her fur thick and glossy black except for the line that cuts a path over her right shoulder and along her side.
From somewhere she hears the piercing whinny of Pegasus, the crackle of its mighty wings, the thunder of its hooves upon the ground. She feels its power in her blood and in her bones and in her spirit.
Lifting her muzzle to the bright disk of the moon, she adds her siren song of a howl to the cacophony living and spiritual voices, and she pours her Gnosis into the Caern, adding her strength to its power, helping to grant it good health for another turn of the moon.
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Somewhere in the mix there is another slight dark shape. Dances With the Hurricane doesn't stand with any pack, nor with any particular group of packless wolves. In her slender, graceful lupus from, she howls, alone but not really. She has her sept and her people, her comrades. For her that is more than enough.
Once across and in the gathering place surrounded by the Garou of Cold Crescent and the Garou of Forgotten Questions and all those who move easily between the two septs, Phoebe sheds her human skin, her figure soaring upward into Crinos, her fur thick and glossy black except for the line that cuts a path over her right shoulder and along her side.
From somewhere she hears the piercing whinny of Pegasus, the crackle of its mighty wings, the thunder of its hooves upon the ground. She feels its power in her blood and in her bones and in her spirit.
Lifting her muzzle to the bright disk of the moon, she adds her siren song of a howl to the cacophony living and spiritual voices, and she pours her Gnosis into the Caern, adding her strength to its power, helping to grant it good health for another turn of the moon.
=====
Somewhere in the mix there is another slight dark shape. Dances With the Hurricane doesn't stand with any pack, nor with any particular group of packless wolves. In her slender, graceful lupus from, she howls, alone but not really. She has her sept and her people, her comrades. For her that is more than enough.