Wednesday, May 31, 2006
"Most of the Pure Ones I have come across seem interested only in cursing at me and my people for the alleged sins of my grandfather's grandfathers."
Ash Grove(#4024RJh)
Within this dark forest dominated by the canopy of the tenacious, light-hungry pines is a place where a stand of ash has established itself and fought off all competition. The ashes allow the rays of sun and moon alike to lance down through limbs which bear nothing more than clusters of rust-coloured keys, such that undergrowth abounds and the forest floor is even clad with a bright green sward of grass. Bright white bits of bone peep through the green, testament to a history of food offerings in this place.
These habitual offerings have accomplished their purpose and, during daytime, a great number of carrion birds roost in the branches of the trees, predominately the large black bodies of crows and ravens. The grove is deserted at night, the birds having left for other sanctuary.
Cricket is sitting under a tree in the grove. The Uktena is half-asleep with her bag possessions snug against her chest which her arms are hugging around.
Clemency comes stomping through the woods with her usual lack of subtlety, twigs snapping and branches bending as she progresses. When she spots the snoozing Cricket she raises one eyebrow. "Well, that's not Blackriver," she says to nobody in particular.
Cricket opens her eyes and looks up at Clemency, expression looking cross. "Huh?" she asks as she quickly rises to her feet.
"I was looking for someone who's often around here," Clemency explains coolly. "But you're not her. I'm sorry if I woke you."
"Who are you?" Cricket asks, not in a demanding tone but one of curiousity. This girl, Clemency soon notices, is Native American and African; there is not an easy noticeable pinch of European in her physical definition.
This teenager's face is soft, showing her Native American and African heritage that has been funneled through generations of blending and perfecting of the two into the beauty of this young woman. A small portion of her Dutch heritage is also seen with careful inspection, giving her skin tone that golden brown luster. Her nose is beveled, peeking from the gentle crest between her almond-shaped eyes. Tresses spill around her shoulders in waves of silky, thick black hair. She stands at 5'3" and is athletically fit, passable as a model if it were not for her weathered hands that prove that she has connection with the earth. Soil has gathered and stained her fingernails. Her body flows like the softness of her face, with gentle peaks where necessary.
A few adornments are shown upon her. She has the left side of her nose pierced and her ears are triple pierced. A few feathers, beads, and other accessories are found within her hair. She also wears a necklace that is a black agate disk with leather looped around it and tied around her neck. Her clothes are otherwise non-descriptive. She wears a black fitted-tee with white lettering that says 'Native Pride' which is generally hidden underneath a dark gray, large man's sized sweater that has seen better days. She wears a pair of worn jeans on her lower torso with a pair of moccasins on her feet.
"Clemency Haynes is the name," responds the Silver Fang. "This is probably a stupid question, but you do know these woods are, like, off limits to the general public?" She cocks her head on one side and gives Cricket what's probably meant to be a meaningful look.
Cricket doesn't appear to register the name. "I am not sure what your relation is to those who are currently patroling these grounds, but I can assure you that I have permission." the thirteen-year-old responds.
Clemency grins. "Okay, okay, okay, I had to ask. I never quite know how good the guardians are. Yes... Clemency Haynes, daughter of Gavin Haynes, granddaughter of Peter Haynes, descendant of the Tchigorins of Garbistan, elder of the Silver Fangs for Sept and State, and wild woman ahroun." She waves a carefree hand at Cricket.
Cricket shifts her shoulder bag on her shoulder while looking Clemency with a puzzled expression throughout most of her introduction. "I am Ayita Youngblood, known as Cricket by my people of my homesept, Cliath Songkeeper of the Uktena. In lupus, I am named Long-Suffering, which is a shortened version of One Who Suffers The Pain Of Her Ancestors In Visions . I come from the Sept of Two Stumps of Howe, Idaho on a request from an ex-member of the Sept of Hidden Walk. My father is Fostern Shaman, a well respected man, of Two Stumps Sept."
Clemency listens to all this with evident interest. "My family and I have since leaving Garbistan lived in the Sept of One Bright Star in South Carolina," she reminisces. My lupus name is The-Fire-that-Burns-Forever, for when I was younger it was foretold that my spirit could never be extinguished or die down for long. Which is still pretty much the case," she says with a grin. "So what request, Long-Suffering-One, brought you here from Idaho?"
"To be able to follow not in the footsteps of my father but to make a new path on my own. To seek reown in a Sept that is known for its variety of tribes for which mine has very few. And, above all, to learn patience of people who do not understand the ways of the Pure Ones." replies the Uktena.
Clemency's lips go thin for a little moment there, but she nods. "Would that more of your brothers and sisters were willing to seek such learning," she comments with a hint of acid. "Most of the Pure Ones I have come across seem interested only in cursing at me and my people for the alleged sins of my grandfather's grandfathers."
"Perhaps if you saw it through our eyes, then you would come to understand why we have such bitterness." Cricket says calmly, for which she has learned her tranquility through her patient father. "I come from two nationalities that have suffered unimagionable pain and suffering, but I did not come here to make enemies. I came for a purpose, which I am going to fulfill. I will try not to carry sterotypes, but I cannot help if I do."
"Nobody can ask you to do more than to try to overcome the past," Clemency says restrainedly. "The past has a powerful grip on us, creatures of tradition as we are. My people, as well as yours, very often find themselves retreading old paths, and at a loss how to break out of the deeply trodden ruts they find themselves in. I... like to think that in my own way, I have broken out of the rut," she says with a slightly distracted smile.
"Did you say that you run with a pack?" asks Cricket, changing the subject for a moment to talk of less debatable topic.
"I did not say it," Clemency corrects, "but I have the honor to run under the protection of Wolverine in the pack of Havoc, in which I claim the position of Beta."
Cricket wrinkles up her nose a little. "Yes, yes." she replies. "Wolverine is a very rageful spirit. It takes members with much skill to be able to have control of their rage to pack under the wolverine."
"Don't I know it!" exclaims Clemency. "Even at this theurge moon I feel the pull of it... But I am a fighter, and Wolverine is a fighter. We understand each other, he and I."
Cricket nods her head slowly. "My father is shaman, I spend some time in the shadow speaking to spirits when I was a cub."
Clemency ahhs. "No theurges in my immediate family," she says, "and I confess I don't pay as much attention to spirits as I should, apart from Vex of course... that's Havoc's totem. I like straightforwardness, and spirits rarely possess much of that."
"They can be tricky," the Uktena replies. Her eyes look over the wood around her before her attention returns to the Silver Fang.
"So, Ayita," Clemency says, shifting from one foot to another, "do you like it here? Has Vera-rhya admitted you as a member of the sept? I have been... rather out of the loop lately, you see. Still trying to catch up on events."
Cricket shakes her head slowly and frowns. "I need to find her and to have a chiminage approved. The Wendigo elder, Jancita-rhya, had assisted me with an idea all I need to do is bring it before the alpha of the sept."
Clemency's face becomes rather wooden at the mention of the Wendigo elder. "Vera-rhya has the good of this sept truly at heart, and if your idea benefits us, you may be sure she will approve it."
"I will not let this sept down." Cricket replies. "I just hope that it will take less time to find the Alpha then it has to find anyone else."
"I saw her only yesterday," Clemency says. "At the farmhouse. She maintains a room there, where she can keep an eye on the cubs of the sept."
Cricket scowls a little as she hears the word 'farmhouse'. "I suppose that is the best place to find her," the girl replies.
"It is. Although," Clemency says, "I too seek another garou who is hard to find, for she was lupus-born and tends to lurk deep in the woods when she has no reason to mix with we two-leggers. Perhaps each of us should look for the other's target as well as our own? That must increase the chances of them being found?"
Cricket smiles but shakes her head. "I am afraid that I would make your traveling slow, since I must go around the caern to the other side of the bawn." replies the Uktena.
"Very well," Clemency says. "Perhaps we'll meet again shortly. I must search out Blackriver myself, then."
Within this dark forest dominated by the canopy of the tenacious, light-hungry pines is a place where a stand of ash has established itself and fought off all competition. The ashes allow the rays of sun and moon alike to lance down through limbs which bear nothing more than clusters of rust-coloured keys, such that undergrowth abounds and the forest floor is even clad with a bright green sward of grass. Bright white bits of bone peep through the green, testament to a history of food offerings in this place.
These habitual offerings have accomplished their purpose and, during daytime, a great number of carrion birds roost in the branches of the trees, predominately the large black bodies of crows and ravens. The grove is deserted at night, the birds having left for other sanctuary.
Cricket is sitting under a tree in the grove. The Uktena is half-asleep with her bag possessions snug against her chest which her arms are hugging around.
Clemency comes stomping through the woods with her usual lack of subtlety, twigs snapping and branches bending as she progresses. When she spots the snoozing Cricket she raises one eyebrow. "Well, that's not Blackriver," she says to nobody in particular.
Cricket opens her eyes and looks up at Clemency, expression looking cross. "Huh?" she asks as she quickly rises to her feet.
"I was looking for someone who's often around here," Clemency explains coolly. "But you're not her. I'm sorry if I woke you."
"Who are you?" Cricket asks, not in a demanding tone but one of curiousity. This girl, Clemency soon notices, is Native American and African; there is not an easy noticeable pinch of European in her physical definition.
This teenager's face is soft, showing her Native American and African heritage that has been funneled through generations of blending and perfecting of the two into the beauty of this young woman. A small portion of her Dutch heritage is also seen with careful inspection, giving her skin tone that golden brown luster. Her nose is beveled, peeking from the gentle crest between her almond-shaped eyes. Tresses spill around her shoulders in waves of silky, thick black hair. She stands at 5'3" and is athletically fit, passable as a model if it were not for her weathered hands that prove that she has connection with the earth. Soil has gathered and stained her fingernails. Her body flows like the softness of her face, with gentle peaks where necessary.
A few adornments are shown upon her. She has the left side of her nose pierced and her ears are triple pierced. A few feathers, beads, and other accessories are found within her hair. She also wears a necklace that is a black agate disk with leather looped around it and tied around her neck. Her clothes are otherwise non-descriptive. She wears a black fitted-tee with white lettering that says 'Native Pride' which is generally hidden underneath a dark gray, large man's sized sweater that has seen better days. She wears a pair of worn jeans on her lower torso with a pair of moccasins on her feet.
"Clemency Haynes is the name," responds the Silver Fang. "This is probably a stupid question, but you do know these woods are, like, off limits to the general public?" She cocks her head on one side and gives Cricket what's probably meant to be a meaningful look.
Cricket doesn't appear to register the name. "I am not sure what your relation is to those who are currently patroling these grounds, but I can assure you that I have permission." the thirteen-year-old responds.
Clemency grins. "Okay, okay, okay, I had to ask. I never quite know how good the guardians are. Yes... Clemency Haynes, daughter of Gavin Haynes, granddaughter of Peter Haynes, descendant of the Tchigorins of Garbistan, elder of the Silver Fangs for Sept and State, and wild woman ahroun." She waves a carefree hand at Cricket.
Cricket shifts her shoulder bag on her shoulder while looking Clemency with a puzzled expression throughout most of her introduction. "I am Ayita Youngblood, known as Cricket by my people of my homesept, Cliath Songkeeper of the Uktena. In lupus, I am named Long-Suffering, which is a shortened version of One Who Suffers The Pain Of Her Ancestors In Visions . I come from the Sept of Two Stumps of Howe, Idaho on a request from an ex-member of the Sept of Hidden Walk. My father is Fostern Shaman, a well respected man, of Two Stumps Sept."
Clemency listens to all this with evident interest. "My family and I have since leaving Garbistan lived in the Sept of One Bright Star in South Carolina," she reminisces. My lupus name is The-Fire-that-Burns-Forever, for when I was younger it was foretold that my spirit could never be extinguished or die down for long. Which is still pretty much the case," she says with a grin. "So what request, Long-Suffering-One, brought you here from Idaho?"
"To be able to follow not in the footsteps of my father but to make a new path on my own. To seek reown in a Sept that is known for its variety of tribes for which mine has very few. And, above all, to learn patience of people who do not understand the ways of the Pure Ones." replies the Uktena.
Clemency's lips go thin for a little moment there, but she nods. "Would that more of your brothers and sisters were willing to seek such learning," she comments with a hint of acid. "Most of the Pure Ones I have come across seem interested only in cursing at me and my people for the alleged sins of my grandfather's grandfathers."
"Perhaps if you saw it through our eyes, then you would come to understand why we have such bitterness." Cricket says calmly, for which she has learned her tranquility through her patient father. "I come from two nationalities that have suffered unimagionable pain and suffering, but I did not come here to make enemies. I came for a purpose, which I am going to fulfill. I will try not to carry sterotypes, but I cannot help if I do."
"Nobody can ask you to do more than to try to overcome the past," Clemency says restrainedly. "The past has a powerful grip on us, creatures of tradition as we are. My people, as well as yours, very often find themselves retreading old paths, and at a loss how to break out of the deeply trodden ruts they find themselves in. I... like to think that in my own way, I have broken out of the rut," she says with a slightly distracted smile.
"Did you say that you run with a pack?" asks Cricket, changing the subject for a moment to talk of less debatable topic.
"I did not say it," Clemency corrects, "but I have the honor to run under the protection of Wolverine in the pack of Havoc, in which I claim the position of Beta."
Cricket wrinkles up her nose a little. "Yes, yes." she replies. "Wolverine is a very rageful spirit. It takes members with much skill to be able to have control of their rage to pack under the wolverine."
"Don't I know it!" exclaims Clemency. "Even at this theurge moon I feel the pull of it... But I am a fighter, and Wolverine is a fighter. We understand each other, he and I."
Cricket nods her head slowly. "My father is shaman, I spend some time in the shadow speaking to spirits when I was a cub."
Clemency ahhs. "No theurges in my immediate family," she says, "and I confess I don't pay as much attention to spirits as I should, apart from Vex of course... that's Havoc's totem. I like straightforwardness, and spirits rarely possess much of that."
"They can be tricky," the Uktena replies. Her eyes look over the wood around her before her attention returns to the Silver Fang.
"So, Ayita," Clemency says, shifting from one foot to another, "do you like it here? Has Vera-rhya admitted you as a member of the sept? I have been... rather out of the loop lately, you see. Still trying to catch up on events."
Cricket shakes her head slowly and frowns. "I need to find her and to have a chiminage approved. The Wendigo elder, Jancita-rhya, had assisted me with an idea all I need to do is bring it before the alpha of the sept."
Clemency's face becomes rather wooden at the mention of the Wendigo elder. "Vera-rhya has the good of this sept truly at heart, and if your idea benefits us, you may be sure she will approve it."
"I will not let this sept down." Cricket replies. "I just hope that it will take less time to find the Alpha then it has to find anyone else."
"I saw her only yesterday," Clemency says. "At the farmhouse. She maintains a room there, where she can keep an eye on the cubs of the sept."
Cricket scowls a little as she hears the word 'farmhouse'. "I suppose that is the best place to find her," the girl replies.
"It is. Although," Clemency says, "I too seek another garou who is hard to find, for she was lupus-born and tends to lurk deep in the woods when she has no reason to mix with we two-leggers. Perhaps each of us should look for the other's target as well as our own? That must increase the chances of them being found?"
Cricket smiles but shakes her head. "I am afraid that I would make your traveling slow, since I must go around the caern to the other side of the bawn." replies the Uktena.
"Very well," Clemency says. "Perhaps we'll meet again shortly. I must search out Blackriver myself, then."
# posted by Clemency Haynes @ 1:56 PM 
