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| Denouement's Beginning; Private for Oop | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 2 2012, 02:58 PM (698 Views) | |
| Flare | Jun 2 2012, 02:58 PM Post #1 |
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Marching On
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((Private for Oop. I left a couple details blank for us to determine together.)) It is time for the Ceremony. Dio falls into step behind a number of women making their way toward the pit. Already the fire has been lit; Dio can see the curling plumes of smoke from here. A pang of sorrow takes residence in his chest then, but he keeps his head held high and walks on. They are burning the Mother today. A woman of an untold number of years, the Mother had earned her name as the tribe’s wetnurse. As women left their sick beds to tend to their husbands, newborn babes were laid at the foot of the Mother. She tended to these children while their true mothers were otherwise occupied during the daylight hours. Gifted with breasts that had never dried of milk, the Mother nursed each child, and as they grew, taught them the ways of the tribe. It is through her they learned history, traditions, laws. Even Dioren and his brother Yiska, sons of the Hero [___], had suckled at the Mother’s teat. Dio remembers more time spent with her than he does his own mother, a beautiful young woman who had been elevated in status after her husband’s untimely death. Even that man Dio can hardly remember. No, it is the Mother who had nursed both of his parents, his grandparents, and the Chief, the Mother who claims most of his heart, his childhood memories, and it she they are taking to the pit. Little more than a shallow hole in the ground, today the pit has been decorated with jewels, feathers, and silks of every color. They litter the edge, while bowls filled with stews and steaming meats sit in groves carved into the thick trunk of wood that sits off-center inside the pit and serves as the pyre. Already, as Dio had seen from a distance, it is aflame, its fire reaching across the pit and grasping at the ornaments close enough to consume. Dio swallows around the lump in his throat. With the tribe gathered around the pit, the Mother is brought forth. Held between four women, she is carried into the circle and laid mere feet from the fire’s reach. Her dark skin has been painted in the colors of the dead, red and black stripes that curl around her biceps, thighs, and the naked expanse of her belly. The women bow sharply and step away. Dio watches solemnly as a necklace is laid across the Mother’s bare bosom. It is a small thing, two green stones set in a casing of horse fat and strung on the most slender of threads. Hardly a sight, really, but Dio knows how treasured that necklace was to the Mother, how she had never once removed it from around her neck except when in field, so far as Dio had seen, and like several others, he raises his voice in a sharp whoop to honor that most prized adornment. Two folded dresses, both newly washed and stitched, are next placed at the Mother’s side. There are no other worldly possessions. She had never been a woman of material belongings and instead preferred to give freely of those few items she had. That was the custom of their tribe, of course, but while most were often choosy of what they gave, the Mother let go of everything but her necklace and those two dresses. It was one of her most respectable traits, that generosity, and Dio will miss it. Finally, the Chief steps up to the pit. He lifts his chin high, while the rest of the tribe raise their arms and reach up, up, up toward [insert a god here]. The first note tears from the Chief’s mouth, a guttural sound that hurts the ears, and in seconds the Song of Passing is echoing around Dio. He adds his own voice to the chorus, lets the words of old wash over him and soothe his aching heart. There is no cause for sadness. The Mother will soon be free, the song tells him, free from the shackles of her life in this world. This is how it has always been and always will be, for every member of the tribe who reaches the final hour of this life and moves into the next. There is no greater blessing than the Passing. As they sing, two of the Chief’s sons approach the Mother. Each crouches, grabs the slab of hide and wood that separates the Mother and her belongings from the earth/other word, and stands once more. The song reaches a crescendo as, without a moment’s hesitation, the two men step into the pit and carefully set the Mother atop the bed of flames. They jump away before the fire can do little more than crack the soles of their feet and lick at their calves. The Mother, however, is left to a very different fate. Several minutes of silence pass as the song putters out, giving way to nothing but the crackle of flames and the occasional pop of wood. Dio is frozen with anticipation. Like everyone else, he knows what is about to follow, and that knowledge sends both a ripple of excitement and a bolt of trepidation lancing through him. He forces himself to keep his gaze level on the Mother’s dark, age-creased face as the Shift begins. There is little to be seen, at first, while the container that is her current form quickly warms in the heat of the flames. A shudder wracks her thin frame, and then all at once, she is changing. Her face is the first to shift, the sharp nose and thin mouth merging, elongating into a muzzle of black fuzz. That fur sprouts across the rest of her face, chases up the growing length of her ears and down her neck to meet the tufts of grey-blue wool that are quickly overtaking the naked barrel of her body. Her fingers and toes press and shorten until they are no longer recognizable as separate digits, and instead the hard rock of hooves black as night are in their place. And just like that, it is done. In a matter of seconds, the Mother has completed her Shift. She appears no longer the frail, wizened two-legged but the strong, honorable ewe. A beautiful sight to behold, Shifts have been a part of the tribe’s history for as long as Dio can remember. Much longer than that, if the tales that the Mother had told him were to be believed. And they were. He had cherished her words as a child, lived by them as he grew. Now, after nineteen turns of the Great Red Circle, Dio knows no other gift to his people greater than the Shift. Only in their beast forms are they free to do as they please: to scour the prairie for food, to hunt and kill and honor the lives sacrificed so that they may continue to thrive. Only as beasts can they allow themselves to put tradition behind and live as [insert a god name] had intended. To look upon another’s beast form is to see them at their most exposed. While in the village, most keep the form of the two-legged and only shift when out on the prairie. For the Mother to be on display as the others watch her shift, well, it is an almost uncomfortable experience. There is a sense of wrongdoing tugging at Dio’s conscience, demanding that he look away. Yes, he had seen the ewe before, when he was younger and had gone with the Mother to wander and learn the ways of the nearby forest. Then, though, she had allowed him to see. Now, the fire had forced her Shift, and nothing feels right. Dio knows he’s being foolish. He’s seen this Ceremony a number of times, and though none had been any more comfortable than this, each time the beast had been exposed. That is the purpose of the Ceremony, to allow the dead to Shift one last time into the form most worthy of [insert that god name]. Only then can the Spirit take flight on the right course. A cheer erupts as the fire eats away at the Mother’s wool, and it’s only after that that the tribe starts to fall away. The Ceremony of Passing complete, the Mother is left to burn, her Spirit given time to escape its disintegrating host. Dio remains at the pit for just a short time before moving away, as well. With one hand tenderly brushing against the ring of feathers clasped around his neck, he presses the other to his heart and whispers a prayer of safe journey into the next life. Eventually, after taking the time to talk briefly amongst the tribe and reminisce over their most recent loss, Dio makes his way to the field. Despite the morning’s activity, there is still work to be done. Always work to be done. With a sigh, Dio looks to the sky, ignores the yearning in his chest, and walks on. |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Jun 3 2012, 08:29 PM Post #2 |
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so they scream
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((Please don't expect this to be great. In fact, I hate it, but I think I'm going to have to warm up to Yiska.)) With a steady hand, Yiska wipes the sweat from his brow. The Great Red Circle blazes high in the sky, at its peak. The thatch in his hands scratches his palms lightly, his fingers too calloused to feel such a gentle brush. With care and diligence, he tucks and secures each bit of the dry straw, the ladder creaking under his weight as he shifts from side to side. The Great Rains, the tears of the Far Off Father, have a long while before they fall, but Yiska would rather have the chore done before the harvests. It will save their family a great deal of effort later in the year to have it done now. Especially Dioran, since this task usually falls to him. Yiska can patch a roof as well as any man in the tribe, but, as only Dio and their mother know, he doesn't like his feet not touching the ground. To him, in his purest form, his connection to the Great Mother means everything. He can feel every slight vibration beneath him; the tall grass conceals him, spares him from predators, and provides him shelter. The Great Mother freely gives all that he needs, while the Far Off Father, who watches over them and blesses them with his tears of joy, intimidates Yiska. The Far Off Father he feels isolated from, rejected by. He is in all ways unapproachable, though Yiska appreciates and respects Him greatly. The smell brings Yiska from his thoughts. Dry wood. Dry leaves. Then something underneath. Though he watches the sky with consideration, his hands work with swiftness and his heart aches with loss. The Mother, who had tenderly nursed him from an infant into a child, and then fondly watched him grow into a man, he can now taste on the breeze. Though many could say the same, Yiska shared a special relationship with Mother. As a boy, he would often sit and listen to her tales, while others would run and play in the prairie. She had imparted upon Yiska wisdom far beyond his years, perhaps beyond anyone in the tribe's years, aside from her own. Each day, she would leave Yiska with a new lesson - one that often left his mind reeling. Once she saw that the lesson sunk in, though, she would smile broadly, a familiar and comforting sight to anyone in the tribe. "Yiska, my child," she would say, "I have raised many warriors, many artists, many farmers, and many healers. I have raised many of everything in this tribe. But you are different from any child I have ever held in my hands." She never said that he was better or worse, just different. Now she is gone, and although Yiska rejoices that she finally gets to join [god's name here], he also mourns the loss of her. Not in public, though. Not by such a display. He believes that allowing a person to depart in their more earthly form does keep a person more pure, allows the soul to escape and leave the earth behind. However, he also believes that that the passing is between a person and [god's name], not a spectacle to behold. Children stand and gape, and later will talk about the Shift, about the other form. Their parents, of course, will encourage them. It is good, they will say, to talk about the blessing that [god's name] has given our tribe. That, Yiska cannot bear the thought of. When he hears footsteps, he climbs down the ladder, patting his hands to get the dust of the dried grass from them once he reaches the bottom. Dio has nearly made it back to their hut. Yiska does not smile, because now is not a time for smiling. Rather, he gestures at the ladder before picking up a hoe made of wood and bone. "I started on the roof," he says, "but I'll leave the rest to you." He walks to his younger brother and places a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze. Tonight, there will be celebration for Mother's passing, but today, the tribe mourns. Today, they both carry a great pain in their eyes. Yiska nods once, feeling his long, black braid run along his bare spine. Today, despite their sorrow, they must work. ((Omg, this was HORRIBLE. I'm so sorry. And I'll edit later, but Stephen is wanting to go rent movies.)) |
| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Nov 30 2012, 11:32 PM Post #3 |
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Marching On
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From a distance, Dio sees his brother atop the highest rungs of a ladder that leans against their hut. It's only from a lifetime of watching that he sees how Yiska practically clings to the wood, doing his work but keeping himself as secure as possible. There is a long-held distaste there that Dio knows as well as his own fears. That is the way of family, after all. Although today, right now, Dio is feeling a little less than accommodating of this particular family member's problems. He approaches the hut with teeth ground tight against each other, an anger growing quickly from the depths of his belly and rising to the surface. When Yiska comes forward to place a hand on his shoulder, their eyes meet, and Dio sees the same pain in his brother's eyes that he himself is harboring. The sight does nothing but anger him further. Dio jerks his shoulder out from beneath Yiska's warm, rough palm and moves around him. He stalks toward the ladder that Yiska has abandoned, wraps his fingers around a rung, and climbs up with the ease and swiftness of years of practice. Without a glance back down at Yiska, he dives into his work, picking up where Yiska had left off and tucking the straw into place. As gracefully as he had climbed the ladder, however, there is no sign of that grace now. He pulls and picks and tears at the straw, his fingers clumsy as he sees red. He's not been on the ladder an entire minute before he's letting out an infuriated growl and stomping back down. There's no holding it in. Dio turns back to Yiska and glares at him with every ounce of anger he can muster, and of that, there's plenty. "How dare you?" he snarls, taking several steps toward Yiska and stopping just short of the taller man. "I know you disapprove of the Ceremony of Passing, but this was the Mother, Yiska. She was not just another member of the tribe. She was... she was..." He swallows. "She was one of the most important people in our lives, of any of our lives, and you weren't there to pay your last respects. Instead, you were out here tucking straw! Straw, Yiska!" Dio turns on his heel and makes for the ladder again, but changes course at the last second and begins to pace a tight circle, instead. "Straw!" he cries again, throwing up his arms. "Did you not love her, Yiska? Do you not hold dear the countless things she taught us? Even if you don't like the Ceremony, the least you could have done was swallow your pride and seen her off into the next life! You could have closed your eyes or turned away during the Shift, if that would have made you feel any better!" Finally, Dio stops pacing, the rush of what he'd wanted to say out in the open air between them. There is, of course, still more he could say, but he manages to hold his tongue. Let Yiska try to defend himself through poor excuses before he continues. There is nothing that can make this right because, if Dio is being honest with himself, he's hurt. He's... disappointed. Yiska has always been held on a sort of pedestal in Dio's heart, and for him to commit a foul such as this one... well, it's left Dio shaken. |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 1 2012, 12:13 AM Post #4 |
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so they scream
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With a shake of his head, Yiska watches as his brother causes more harm to the thatching than good. Though he'd spent most of the morning working on it, Yiska does not allow himself to get angry. He knows why Dio does it, and he also knows that he is hurting. It is, perhaps, too soon to expect normalcy from him. He is still young and has not yet learned to separate the hurt of death from the living of life. Hopefully, he will not have to any time soon. It comes as no surprise to Yiska when his brother stomps over to him, as is his manner, and begins hurling accusations. Yiska bears them with his head held high and his eyes exuding his patience, hands resting loosely on his hips. Where he stands taller than his younger brother -- due to age alone, though, for Dio grows with each passing day -- he stands also as the bulkier of the two. Even in their two-legged state, they represent their more earthly selves: Dio all long, lean, graceful muscle stretched over features a touch more delicate than any Yiska's seen on another man, though they are handsome features. Yiska himself also has a lean sort of muscle, but of a more compact, raw variety - an inherently lethal quality about him when he moves any faster than his usual, seemingly unhurried pace. His features are more angular, so sharp as to almost be harsh when not carefully schooled. If Yiska feels any frustration over his brother's words, it doesn't show in anything other than the slight furrow of his eyebrows. He can't think of anything to say for a long few moments, watching Dio pace around with his self-righteous anger fueling his steps and his words. That his little brother would think so little of him, when he knows best of all the tendencies of Yiska's heart is more hurtful than any of his barbed words. "If you truly believe what you say, fratja, then you do not know me, and have no right to say such things," he says, mouth twisted downward at one side. He would say more, elaborate, but words are not often well-received by Dio. Yiska's grief is his own, and his love should not have to be proven. Dio knows this, he simply chooses to be angry. Yiska decides that perhaps some time to cool will help Dio more than anything he could say. Dio already knows the truth, even if he chooses to blind himself to it, and Yiska isn't in the mood to argue. He doesn't reach out for his brother again, keeps his comfort to himself as it's obviously unwelcome, and says, "I'm going to see Alsoomse." To visit his betrothed during a time of grieving is the minimum expected of him, and the least he can offer. ((I've decided that Yiska is going to be a Blue Krait, but I don't know his coloration, yet. I guess I'll figure it out when I get to it.)) |
| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 1 2012, 01:36 AM Post #5 |
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Marching On
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There is little more infuriating than Yiska's unending patience. He is rarely anything other than calm, level-headed, and that is not what Dio wants right now. Anger craves an emotion in kind, wants to tear down at another's defenses and prove its position. Except Yiska makes that impossible, leaving Dio lost without resolution. The few words Yiska does utter do nothing but make Dio's heart clench in his chest because he does know his brother; he knows that while he can feel so utterly offended by Yiska's actions, Yiska is set in his ways. Even in his patience, he is stubborn, and his values and beliefs will not be upended no matter how much Dio complains. They've had these arguments before, many times, especially the first few times Yiska failed to attend a Ceremony of Passing. Then, Dio had actually felt betrayed. Over time, he had slowly learned to grudgingly accept that Yiska cannot bring himself to attend. This time was different, though. Surely Yiska could have come, just this once? There is no replacing the Mother, no way to overlook the fact that generations of lore had lost their connecting thread today and will never be retold in quite the same way. The Mother had brought them all together for more years than anyone can remember. And for Yiska to be unable to respect that just this one time... Dio doesn't want to let this go so easily, doesn't want Yiska to just run to Alsoomse and soothe her aching heart when Dio himself is in so much pain. They need to talk about this, and he wants so badly to make Yiska understand that what he did this morning was unacceptable. If Yiska could just admit his wrongdoing, then Dio would be able to look at him without this burning anger tearing him apart. He knows it's not going to happen the moment Yiska mentions Alsoomse, though. That's his way of saying, "I'm handling this in my own way, but I will at least do this one thing society asks of me. Nothing more." And suddenly, Dio just can't stand here anymore. "Fine." He shoots his brother one last smoldering glare and, without a second thought, twists on his heel and takes off, his trot turning quickly into a sprint. It takes all of his willpower not to Shift. There's wind in his hair, and while running is freeing, it is nothing in comparison to flying. He wants to spread his wings and climb to the highest branch of the tallest tree and put the world behind him. Except he can't, not when he's just abandoned the day's chores like he has. He cannot, in good conscience, allow himself that joy when he's being so irresponsible and not providing for the tribe. The guilt is almost overwhelming. Still, he doesn't turn back. Not yet. Instead, he runs for the forest's edge, where he knows of a particular oak tree with knobs and holds that provide the perfect leverage for scaling. He's up the tree as quickly as he had been the ladder. Dio wedges himself in the gap where three branches meet, curls tight with his forehead to his knees and whispers prayer after prayer while tears stream down his cheeks. He prays for the Mother, for her safe passage, but also for what she's left behind. He asks forgiveness for his selfish desire to have her still with him rather than in [god's name]'s loving arms as she moves into the next life. To have her here in her wisdom, coaching him through the way in which he must handle Yiska and his deviance from the tribe's customs. He needs her guidance and soft voice, and more than anything, he just wants her to help him understand. |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 1 2012, 12:16 PM Post #6 |
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so they scream
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He knows that it was the wrong thing as soon as Dio grounds out a, "Fine." It's in his eyes, even without the glare, that he resents Yiska. Before he can say anything more, though, Dio is taking off toward the plains, headed toward that forest far in the distance, and Yiska has missed his opportunity. One hand clenched into a fist, he tries not to berate himself. His role is complicated when it comes to Dio, because he is both his older brother - the one who used to play with him, lead him into trouble, and tease him when they were younger - and the oldest male figure in their household. Though their tribe is matriarchal in that women usually hold the power and make the decisions, that does not make Yiska's role any less difficult. He hesitates to call himself a father-figure, because he doubts that Dio would see it that way, but Yiska is expected to behave that way. He has not yet found the balance between sibling and authority figure, and when it comes to how to handle Dio, he usually ends up choosing one method or another, though he sometimes doesn't choose the right one. It's hard to tell when Dio wants a brother and when he needs a father. It's too late, now, though. Yiska made a decision, and now he must stick by it. He'll talk to Dio later, because in either case, his brother does need time to cool off and grieve in his own way. Yiska walks through the village slowly. Donoma is the hub of the tribe, which consists of seven different villages, six spread out in a circle from here. Donoma is where the chief of their people live, but each village has a chief as well, and when decisions must be made, the seven chiefs will gather here and deliberate. Because this is the hub, though, it is a busy place - children always running about, women outside cooking in the little clay ovens, and men always performing some task or another if they're not out in the fields or hunting. However, today, all is silence, and it is unnerving. No children fly past squealing with laughter, and few men or women walk the narrow paths between the dwellings. All is silent. Yiska approaches Alsoomse's family's dwelling with a strange sense of unease. "Hello?" he says. "Come in, Yiska," Malila, Alsoomse's mother, calls, and Yiska pushes aside the door covering to step into the one-room dwelling, squinting at the darkness for a while before his eyes adjust. He spots Alsoomse sitting across the room, facing away from the door, her head bowed so that her hair covers her face. He shares a look with Malila, who nods. Stepping past the older woman, Yiska places a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she pats once as thanks before turning away. Yiska crouches down beside his future wife. "Alsoomse," he says gently, and he sees her shoulders shake with a sob. His situation with Alsoomse is complicated, but even so, he hates to see her cry. "Alsoomse," he says again, placing a hand on her shoulder. Rather than shrug it away, as she might usually, she turns into the touch, and Yiska takes it as a signal. He carefully eases her toward him, and it's obviously the right thing. She curls against him, her face pressed against his shoulder and neck, and he holds her as she lets out her sorrow. It's very strange. Alsoomse is not one to ever need comforting. She is independent and abhors any sign of weakness. She is often impatient and - especially toward Yiska - cold and distant. This just goes to show the depth of the sorrow caused by the Mother's passing. Yiska says nothing, simply allows Alsoomse's tears to run down the bare skin of his back and chest as he holds her tight. He hopes, in the back of his mind, that this might draw them closer, that this might open the door to the love he wishes he shared with his betrothed, but he also knows that it won't. So he just holds her as she wishes and pretends that this is normal for them. Edited by Oop, Dec 1 2012, 12:22 PM.
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| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 1 2012, 01:13 PM Post #7 |
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Marching On
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Too much time passes before Dio slowly makes his way from the tree. The Great Red Circle has reached its highest point in the sky and already begun its descent, marking mid-afternoon and the most productive portion of the working day wasted. Though he feels relief after such mourning, a tightness in his chest eased with prayer, Dio's shame is also great. Not only for having abandoned his post, but for his actions with Yiska, as well. He feels a bit a fool for having acted as childishly as he had. Rather, he should have held his tongue for a time until he was in control of his emotions. He should have taken the time to consider his words, to plan for a conversation in which he might have been able to make Yiska, if not see things his way, at least assure him that he did care for the Mother. And it's not that Dio doesn't know that. It was no secret between brothers that the Mother had regarded Yiska highly, and he her. In his early years, Dio had felt a sense of envy for that, had almost lashed out at the two of them for treating him as an inferior. But, deep down, he knew that that wasn't the case and had quickly learned that although theirs was a special relationship, they both still loved him in their own way, and Dio had been content. Instead of envying them their closeness, he'd begun to hold that high as an aim for his own relationships. So no, Dio knows without a fraction of a doubt that Yiska had loved the Mother. He just can't understand how, while that was true, Yiska could forgo such a critical, important send-off. Yes, watching the Shift without invitation is more than a little uncomfortable, but it's for the Mother's continued preservation that they do it. Sighing, Dio breaks into a sprint once more, headed back the way he had come. He can't continue to stew in his own thoughts like this, cannot allow himself to think so poorly of his brother. Even if Dio doesn't agree with him, he knows that, in the end, Yiska means well and would never purposely cause offense to the Mother, nor anyone else in their last moments in this life. Yiska has his reasons, and who is Dio to not accept them? He must apologize. As he approaches the hut, Dio sees no sign of Yiska. He remembers then that his brother had mentioned visiting Alsoomse, and his resolve falters. Still, he peels back the door covering and peers into the near-dark within. "Yiska?" he calls, but of course there is no reply. Yiska really has gone. Dio takes a deep breath to flush out his disappointment. He must simply wait for the time to ask Yiska for forgiveness. After all, Dio isn't the only one hurting; he's sure that, despite their differences, Alsoomse will benefit greatly from Yiska's presence. Dio returns to the roof, then, cursing his foolishness as he begins the slow work of undoing the damage he'd done in his haste from earlier. There is still much to be done before the night's celebration, but resolved now in his goals, Dio wastes no more time. Again, he loses track of the Great Red Circle's position in the sky. It seems too soon that the growing darkness creeps along the roof and makes picking out individual threads of straw an almost impossible task. Dio eventually, reluctantly, pulls away and wipes at the sweat on his brow. "Rise early to make up for lost time," he tells himself, and he most certainly will. The faint, distant sounds of the tribe waking from their day of mourning reach Dio's ears. There's clinking, pounding, laughter as the preparations for the celebration wind down. The celebration itself will soon begin, and Dio needs to be there. His mother will be watching for him. He goes inside the hut to splash a handful of water from the bucket on his face. It does little to remove all the day's dirt without an actual washing, but still, Dio feels refreshed. He blinks away the water from his eyes before turning and hurrying out the door once again. |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 1 2012, 02:36 PM Post #8 |
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so they scream
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By the time Alsoomse's tears have passed, the Great Red Circle has settled low. Yiska knows this without looking because the strange energy in him that feels like, after a full day, he is only just waking up is beginning to set in. He can barely restrain himself from twitching anxiously, ready to go outside and run, hunt, anything. He'd caused a lot of trouble as a child because of his nocturnal tendencies. Often times he would be dragged unwilling back to their dwelling by some villager out late, having sneaked away whilst his family slept. Yiska has learned self control since then, though his body seems to vibrate with pent up energy. Alsoomse notices, and she knows why. She smiles at him, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Yiska, for coming." He smiles back, not so largely, but more sincerely, brushing a piece of her hair from her face. She is beautiful, certainly. "You're always welcome," he says, because whether he loves her or not, she is to be his wife, and he treats her as such. What is his is hers. Again she smiles, but this time she does so while pushing herself to her feet. "I didn't realize it was getting so late." Which is a lie, because she surely felt the rippling energy in Yiska's every muscle, but he accepts it as the dismissal it is. "I'll leave you to get ready for the celebration," he says, standing. He steps near to her, hears her draw in a sharp breath and hold it before releasing it softly when he only kisses her on the forehead. "Ryutidekai's blessings," he says. She repeats it to him, and he leaves. If his hearing were perhaps as good as anyone else's, he might have caught the way that Malila spoke quietly to her daughter about how Yiska was the best man in the village and how she should be grateful that she got both a warrior and a good husband because he would bring her a good home and happiness. But his hearing is not as good as everyone else's, and so he leaves with the same cold feeling in his chest that he usually gets after a meeting with Alsoomse. Energy thrumming through him as the Great Red Circle continues to drift closer to the horizon, Yiska returns to the dwelling that he shares with his brother and their mother, just to see if Dio has returned. By the state of the roof, he can tell that Dio has come back. He hesitates outside, unsure if he's ready to approach his brother or not (or rather, unsure if his brother is ready to see him or not). After a moment's deliberation, he decides against going inside. He knows that they need to talk - things can't remain the way they are - but he's not sure if Dio is ready yet. Sometimes he is surprisingly pig-headed about remaining angry, but other times he's surprisingly mature about matters, given time and space to consider them. In this case, as it is a recurring disagreement they have, Yiska assumes it is the former. So, sure that Dio is safe in the village once more, Yiska now takes his turn for solitude, heading out toward the open plains with a raw speed that would be shocking to anyone who doesn't already know him. He just needs to let out some of this energy, and then he'll return ready to celebrate with everyone else. Edited by Oop, Dec 1 2012, 03:09 PM.
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| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 1 2012, 03:53 PM Post #9 |
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Marching On
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It takes no time at all for Dio to find his mother. As a woman, it had been her duty to spend what time of the day she could spare not mourning to set up for the celebration. Although she'd valued the Mother has much as the rest of the tribe, she values her role in the community almost as much and had probably spent a disproportionate amount of the day preparing, as is her way. Now she is bustling between the food stalls that had been erected for the occasion. Dio catches the rich aromas wafting on the breeze, meats and stews and sweets originally crafted by wives for their families but spared for the event, and he can't help but salivate. He must refrain from stealing a bite, however much as he wants to, though; there are rules in place that he must abide. A woman whose name he can't recall spots Dio and nudges his mother's shoulder, gesturing at him. She tosses a distracted glance over her shoulder, but as soon as she recognizes him, his mother grins and moves toward him, her task momentarily forgotten. Dio meets her half-way and they draw into a tight embrace, Dio standing several inches taller and resting his head atop hers rather than on her shoulder like he used to as a child. "Greetings, Mother." "Oh, Dioren, my son," she coos as she pulls away, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking him up and down with a critical eye. His cheeks color lightly, as they always do, but apparently she finds him in acceptable order. Her smile grows. "Is your work finished for the day?" "As much as can be done without aid from the Great Red Circle," he says, deciding not to tell her how he'd neglected his duties for most of the day. His mother nods. "And your brother, where is he?" She stretches to see around his shoulder and behind, her brow furrowing. "I expected Yiska to be with you." "He went to visit Alsoomse earlier this afternoon." The speed at which the crease leaves her forehead almost irritates Dio, but he quashes that thought before it can fester. "Of course, of course. As considerate as his father, aiding his woman in her time of need. I'm sure the two of them will be along shortly." And with that, the tenderness falls from her features, replaced by the familiar look of one burdened with a very important task. "Now, Dio, I need you to..." He spends the next while doing as his mother instructs, though distracted by the growing bustle of activity around him. Everyone is beginning to arrive, children whom had known the Mother for such a short time running around and laughing, weaving between the legs of the adults, who merely laugh, in kind. The time for mourning has ended, after all. Now it is time for celebration. Eventually, a rattle of drums goes up nearby, drawing quickly into a steady beat joined by other instruments. It grows louder and louder, voices and shouts adding to it, until the sound is almost deafening. Dio grins as his mother starts clapping her hands and hooting. The Celebration of Passing of begun. |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 1 2012, 04:51 PM Post #10 |
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so they scream
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When he finally starts to feel like he's not going to crawl out of his skin (perhaps literally), Yiska returns to the village. He can just hear the pounding of the drums coming from the large, clear circle in front of the Chief's dwelling. He takes a moment to straighten out the soft, hide pants that he wears and to rebraid the long strip of hair in the middle of his head. Then he heads out to join in the celebration. Yiska loves the drums - they are his favorite instrument. He can feel the vibrations of each under his feet, a rhythm that winds up through his legs and into his very center, like a vine overtaking a tree. It's a wonderful feeling, if not a little unsettling. The beat is often so strong that it blocks out everything else. Yiska finds this both freeing and also displacing, though in a different way than being off of the ground entirely. He finds his mother first. "Mother," he says, placing a hand on her shoulder. She startles, but turns toward him with a smile. "You went to see Alsoomse, Dioren told me." "Yes. She is well." She lifts a hand to his cheek, resting it there gently. "Such a good son. You make me proud. Your father, too, is proud of you, watching from Ryutidekai's side." Yiska forces a small smile, but lets it fade after just a moment. His mother removes her hand. "Where is Dio?" "I sent him to go grind more corn. He should be back soon." Yiska nods, wondering if it would be wiser to go talk to his brother, or to wait for his brother to approach him. He hates it when things are unresolved between them, but he doesn't want to push Dio even further away. "Hey, Yiska! Come play with us!" one of the drummers, Naalnish, calls, and Yiska thinks for a moment before turning to his mother. "Go," she says, "everything is almost finished." Yiska goes over to the drummers and claims an empty spot. They all smile. In the village, Yiska may not be necessarily renowned for much. He's known to be patient and level-headed, quiet, strong, a good - if yet untested - warrior, and a good hunter. The many tattoos of passage wrapping around his left bicep tell that: just below his shoulder, a circle broken into four parts to represent that he was born in the fourth month. Below that, there's another band that signifies his first shift, only slightly less thick than his birth circle. Then there's another for his first hunt and for his selection as a warrior, still increasingly smaller. He will hopefully get many more in his life: one for marriage, one for each child. On his right arm, from just below the elbow to his shoulder, he has only tattoo, and that is of a snake, elegantly wrapped around and around in thick lines, its sharp eyes peering out from the narrow, angular face emblazoned on his shoulder. Despite all of this, though, what he is best known for in the village is his gift for the drums. Yiska doesn't know if his love for them fuels his talent, or if his talent fuels his love, but there is little he enjoys more. |
| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 1 2012, 09:43 PM Post #11 |
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Marching On
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Dio takes his time grinding the corn, watching the festivities around him as he works. There are people everywhere, some carrying torches and tossing them into the pit that still burns from this morning. The fire flickers across every face and makes them nearly unrecognizable, at least until they come a little closer. The sight quickens Dio's pulse. He's grinning as he returns to his mother with bucket of corn in tow. She takes the bucket and runs a hand through his coarse hair. "You may run off now, Dio," she says. "You've done enough work for one day, and I thank you for it." "Are you sure there's nothing more I can assist you with, Mother? I don't want---" "Go on, go on! Your brother has already arrived and joined the fun, as well." She cuts her eyes to the right, and Dio follows her gaze to where Yiska sits with the other drummers. He's not surprised that Yiska has wasted no time in aligning himself with the musical entertainment; drums are one of the man's greatest passions, and he tends to play them whenever he has a chance. This is as good a time as any, of course, especially since it's nighttime. Dio watches as Yiska plays, thriving in his element. The sheep hide atop the carved drums gives with every strike of Yiska's stick, rebounding and leaving the deep sound echoing out into the fray and shaking Dio's very bones. Yiska keeps a steady beat with the rest of the musicians, the elusive smile that Dio always yearns for more of stretching his lips. Every once in a while, a laugh will escape, inaudible in the cacophony around them but powerful, all the same. Dio counts three of them before something collides with his back and sends him stumbling several steps. "Oh!" a voice exclaims from behind as he hastily straightens. "I apologize, I merely lost myself in---why, if it isn't young Dioren!" Before Dio can properly get a look at the offender, he's being pulled into an embrace, his cheek pressed against the hard expanse of a naked chest. It takes several long seconds before the man draws back and finally allows Dio a chance to see his face. Wide-set blue eyes stare down at him, a bulbous nose between them. Even with the green paint striped across his cheeks, Dio would recognize Ennziro anywhere. A childhood friend of his father's, Ennziro had been one of the many who helped his mother along in the time following her husband's death. In particular, he had gone to field with Dio and Yiska and coached them in their chores. Even as young as Dio had been then, he... was never overly fond of Ennziro's, er, exuberant personality. Grateful, yes, but both he and Yiska had done what they could to avoid spending large quantities of time with the man. Now that he considers it, that was probably why they had learned their tasks as quickly as they had. Still, despite his distaste, Dio smiles at Ennziro. "It is no trouble," he says. "My fault for standing around idly. I was watching Yiska." Ennziro laughs, a rumble that practically explodes from his throat. "Well, no harm done, then! Who can blame you? When your brother gets behind those drums, it is truly a sight to behold!" "Yes, I---" "YISKA!" Ennziro shouts. Dio winces, wonders if he's ever going to be able to hear of his left ear again. "YISKA, YOU ARE TRULY GIFTED! BOTH DIO AND MYSELF AGREE TO THIS, AS DOES THE REST OF THE TRIBE, I'M CERTAIN." Cheers sound around them, breaking through the music before everyone focuses on their own goings once more. Dio merely coughs into his hand and thanks Ryutidekai for the fire's glow hiding the pink of his cheeks. Apparently satisfied with himself, Ennziro grins down at Dio and takes both his hands in his own. "Let us dance to your brother's music." And just like that, Dio finds himself being dragged off, though not before casting a helpless glance in Yiska's direction one last time. ((Check out the "Indian Classical" station on Pandora! It's not really all that Native American-y, but it's still fun for this particular RP.)) |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 2 2012, 12:17 AM Post #12 |
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so they scream
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((Serious struggle-bus with this post.)) Yiska could play for days and not notice the passing of time. In fact, once he really gets started, it's hard for him to notice much of anything. The rhythm that bounces the earth against his bare feet consumes his attention, becoming his sole focus. The movement of his arms, how hard he bangs the drum, how the nuances in pressure affect the leap of the ground - it's all fascinating, a dance all in its own for Yiska. However, even with his less-than-perfect hearing, there's no way he could ignore Ennziro even if the man wasn't shouting at him. He looks up sharply, hands not losing the beat, not even hesitating. He tilts his head slightly, as he usually does when he's listening carefully. Not that he needs to, because Ennziro is as loud as a bison stampede when he tries to whisper. A cheer goes up - for him, Yiska realizes -- and he ducks his head, face reddening so much that he can feel the flush creeping down his neck to his chest, so vivid that he knows not even the fire will hide it. But he's grinning so hugely that it feels like his face will split and he hasn't felt like this - this happy or free - in a long time. After a moment's sheepishness, Yiska redoubles his efforts at playing, and shouts out, "For the Mother!" "For the Mother!" the gathering of people echoes, and wild whoops and whistles follow. Yiska watches Dio's face, though, momentarily afraid that his brother still hasn't forgiven him. When it comes to his fratja, Yiska sometimes feels more scared than he had standing at the top of the waterfall and staring down at the pooled water below before leaping. He knows that they could never hate each other, but Yiska wouldn't know what to do if a rift grew between them. The Mother would never forgive them for being the reason for that rift, either. However, when he meets Dio's eye, he sees none of his earlier fury, and he is immediately put at ease. He relaxes, offering his brother a small, crooked grin before Dio is whisked away to join the dancing. It's not the end of the issue, certainly, and they'll talk about it again, but for now, they're both here to celebrate and their differences can wait. After that, Yiska allows himself to smile and laugh freely. He plays the drum like a man possessed, and he likes to think that he is. The thought of the Mother guiding his hands, keeping them steady, offers him comfort, and he gratefully accepts it. If a stray tear runs down his face, glistening orange, then no one says anything, and he doesn't care. This, he thinks, is how life should be. |
| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 21 2012, 12:50 PM Post #13 |
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Marching On
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((I have no idea what to do with this post, so I'm just gonna spew words and see what happens.)) Long before the night's end, Dio manages to slip away from Ennziro, though not before he's been practically swung around for a handful of songs. Honestly, he's in such good spirits that he doesn't mind so much, but to finally have his feet secure under himself for an extended period of time again is a relief. Through the remainder of the night, Dio divides his time between assisting his mother and the other women in keeping the food stocked and celebrating with friends. They dance, chant, and share mulled cider and wine around the fire. Stories of the Mother are swapped, eliciting both tears and laughter alike. It truly is a celebration of her life and passing, and by the time the early hours of the morning begin to come around, Dio feels so at ease with acceptance of the loss. Of course, he will always miss the Mother, but the mourning will be easier now. Eventually, while the Great White Moon is still high, people start disappearing back to their homes. They've had a long day, but there is still work to be done come morning, and they'll need at least a small amount of sleep to function properly. Dio himself cannot stop yawning as he helps tear down the food stalls and pack what remains of the food into baskets, and despite his attempts to stifle them, his mother notices. She rests a hand on his shoulder. "You've done enough, Dio. Thank you." He reshuffles the baskets in his arms. "There's still so much to be done. Let me just---" "You have work to do in just a few hours. My day will be easier. Finish with these baskets and then go home and rest." "Yes, Mother." Dio wants to resist -- his mother should not have to stay here for a time that could be shortened with his help -- but he really is so tired. With another yawn, he presses a kiss to her cheek before moving away to deposit his baskets in the hut where food to be shared with all is stored. When he's finally ready to head out, Dio takes a moment to glance back over the area where they'd held the celebration. He plans to just look over it quickly in remembrance before moving on, but he spots Yiska, and before he knows what he's doing, Dio's feet begin carrying toward his brother. He stops short and smiles. "Hello, Yiska." ((So I was thinking they could have their talk, clear the water. Finish the night off on a good note. Then we do a bit of a time skip to... who knows what. Probably not quite to the big stuff yet, but somethin'.)) |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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| Oop | Dec 21 2012, 01:58 PM Post #14 |
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so they scream
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((Well, that turned out well for you! I wish my word spewage turned out like thatl.)) The night passes in a haze of heavy vibrations, sweet laughter, and - occasionally - stinging tears. Yiska, as usual, spends most of the time on the drums, but he does join in a few dances. With his strange, liquid grace and easy ability to keep rhythm, he is one of the better dancers of the village. He even shares a dance with Alsoomse, and it goes so well that they're both smiling and laughing by the end of it, the tension gone as they both get lost in celebration. It all bolsters Yiska's spirit considerably, and by the end, he can't get the grin off of his face. In fact, when Dio steps in front of him bearing a smile and a greeting, Yiska can't help but step forward and wrap his arms around his fratja, hugging him tightly (though not too tightly, because he is, of course, aware of Dio's condition) - something he hasn't done in far, far too long. When he releases Dio, he takes only a slight step back, squeezing Dio's shoulders. "Fratja." Looking into Dio's face, Yiska can see the exhaustion there, and he knows that his own face doesn't reflect it. The night, to Yiska, feels like his time - the time to run and hunt and be alive. As everyone knows, Yiska is nocturnal by nature. Even with the smiles they share, Yiska can feel the tension between them, not so great as before, but still there. He drops his hands after a moment and sighs. "We need to talk. I hate this being between us." He doesn't know what else to say, but it's a start. It's not every day that Yiska offers up information so easily. Rather than wait for Dio's response, Yiska continues, knowing that it will go better if he starts and takes Dio off his guard, if he has any up. "I'm sorry that I wasn't at the Ceremony. I should have been, even if I don't think that it's right." The admittance is huge; Dio knows how much Yiska hates the Ceremony, how wrong he believes it is. "I should have been there for our family." Both to support them, and to represent them, as he is the head man. "Forgive me, fratja." |
| If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks. | |
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| Flare | Dec 21 2012, 02:37 PM Post #15 |
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Marching On
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((Haha! I just got lucky. Also: my heart!)) The hug comes as somewhat of a surprise. When Yiska pulls him close, his strong arms squeezing and holding him just right, Dio can't help but relax into the embrace, his own arms coming up and wrapping around behind Yiska. He hugs him as tightly as he possibly can because Yiska can take it, and when they separate, he feels just that much lighter. And then Yiska speaks, and everything that had been sitting idly on Dio's tongue slips down his throat and away. He blinks rapidly as he listens, jaw parted. Relief floods him; at least Yiska understands why Dio had been so upset, acknowledges the fact that they had needed him this morning. But at the same time, Dio also understands where Yiska is coming from, and he needs him to know that before the guilt can devour his insides. "I do!" he cries, loud in the heat of the moment. He glances around them then takes a deep breath and lowers his voice before speaking again. It's not that they need to keep their conversation quiet, but this isn't something Dio wants to share with the entire tribe. Just his brother. Just Yiska. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to say the things I did to you. I know you loved the Mother just as much as anyone else, if not more. I know that. It was cruel of me to suggest anything less. And I'm sorry for running off and not talking then so that we didn't have this tension all day long. "I know that we share different beliefs about the Ceremony of Passing. We always have, and we likely always will, and there's nothing either of us can say or do that will change that." Dio pauses for a breath. "Sometimes I just get so angry, but you don't deserve to be the person I let it out on. Especially not for something like that. I'm sorry that even after all this time, I continually let this get me worked up, but I promise -- I promise -- to work on my acceptance and self-control, if only you'll forgive me, as well." Dio finally stops the flood of words from his mouth, presses his lips in a thin line and looks away. He knows it's cowardly, but he can't look his brother in the eyes. Dio is a very prideful person, and to admit his own wrongs hurts. Yiska deserves more, but Dio just hopes the actual confession was enough. ((Freaking Dio, man. He and none of my other characters ever know how to speak in anything other than speeches.)) |
| "Que sera, sera." | |
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7:14 PM Jul 10