06-22-2013, 12:47 PM
It takes a long, long time to get through the sept business, the introductions, the everything else until the floor is opened for challenges for office. It's a large gathering, this, and this month's moot area is filled with wolves of all tribes and all auspices and all ranks. When the truthcatcher or whomever opens that floor, Phoebe makes her way quietly toward the front to accept the bone. Unlike last night, when she swayed with drink, or rolled in the dirt, or was later seen sitting in a semi-circle smoking with her friends and peers, the Black Fury Theurge carries herself carefully, and with some dignity. She can feel the eyes of her own elders, Mothers and Crone, boring into the space between her shoulder blades.
When she takes the bone, she inclines her head toward the Elder and the Elders, then turns to face the crowd. With a voice that is almost as musical as it is captivating, she declares, "I, Phoebe Stavros, Sings the Spirits to Rest, Siren of Persephone, Fostern and Theurge of the Black Furies, challenge for next month's Caller of the Wyld."
Returning the bone, she goes to wherever she needs to go for that, or returns to her place with her fellows.
[everybody should challenge for all the things, c'mon! (unless this is too close to the wire, in which case I withdraw the challenge)]
When she takes the bone, she inclines her head toward the Elder and the Elders, then turns to face the crowd. With a voice that is almost as musical as it is captivating, she declares, "I, Phoebe Stavros, Sings the Spirits to Rest, Siren of Persephone, Fostern and Theurge of the Black Furies, challenge for next month's Caller of the Wyld."
Returning the bone, she goes to wherever she needs to go for that, or returns to her place with her fellows.
[everybody should challenge for all the things, c'mon! (unless this is too close to the wire, in which case I withdraw the challenge)]