FOLKLORE


[ E ] you're magic, white rabbit
#1


Galiene
i know you love me

even when i lose my head

guillotine


The scent perfumed the air with the thick tang of herbivore. It was a new smell, a strange smell, one that infiltrated the forest like a pungent fog. It was intoxicating and impossible to ignore. What had driven the caribou to the forest, Galiene did not know, but she found she was drawn to them magnetically, as if there was some unspoken invitation: find me. She was not sure why the desire had overtaken her so strongly. Perhaps it was because she felt stagnant and listless; perhaps it was the quiet amongst the Fairfolk, the familiar faces who had disappeared into the din as if they had never been there at all. There was disorder in her flock, she knew this, and she mulled over the possibilities in her mind...what to do, what to do...

Perhaps a hunt, then, to get a headcount. Those who were around would arrive, and she could determine next maneuvers when that happened. She stood in a blanket of shade thrown by the large pines above, and she tilted her head back and howled. The sound ricocheted off of the bark and echoed. They would hear it, if they were near. The Fairfolk had not come together for a long while now, and the time had come to assess their ranks. And the time had come for a challenge. The sparkling electricity of a game was in the air, and she felt a thrill of adrenaline run through her muscles at the possibility of the hunt.

They would find the herd, and they would take what they could, and maybe with blood on her hands and along her teeth she would find the clarity she sought. Maybe.

"speak"


© DI
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#2

There was chaos in which Caella thrived. Yet, the dissaray of her family, once a proud and strong nation now left crumbled and weak. The tension felt by all; The Crone felt perhaps more than most. She could feel it. Muscles were taught along her spine, her shoulders. Her mind. Yet soon, would be her time to shine. The Crone's latern light would arrive within the next Moon and her very own festival would arrive.

but who would be left to attend?.

Oh how she seethed at the thought!

She took pleasure in the darkness, her whisperers had failed. She had failed at her task given by the holy Mother of their fold and so in turn failed her family. Oh the turmoil that wrenched within! These were truly testing times. For all. And as she had thought, it started with her very own ascension.

Perhaps the this was the god's punishment? To attone for her sins, her family must fail? Surely not. The Fairfolk were the Seer's, the Pathfinders for Cyrileth. Had been for eons and will be until the end of time...

As thoughts mulled within her skull, the Crone effortlessly glided; guided by a scent the knew to be foreign. Yet the auburn form of Galiene had caught her attention and so to the seclusion of the Pines, she would watch and wait. Who would show? If not, then perhaps now would be the time to discuss ... new plans.

Burning, molten eyes trained upon the Mother as ebon' nostrils drank in the foreign scent, it felt like a drum-beat, thundering, summoning. It made the hairs upon her nape stand on edge and her muscles to quiver in pleasure.



[OOC: Spying for the first round only!]
"let us sit back and watch the world burn"
table ▶▶claerie. manip ▶▶ raven
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#3

"Galiene of El."

Blithe inclined his head in formal greeting, presenting himself before the holy mother. He would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased to be the first to arrive. But he concealed any hint of satisfaction. To be proud was to be stupid. While he managed to stay in her good graces this long, every action, or inaction, counted. He understood that she was more than just a pretty face. She could very well be his salvation. Thus, when she beckoned, he would come.

The same could be said for Oberon, though Blithe feared the father was all too unforgiving. It would be harder to win his favor, and harder still to accept the consequences of failure. The boy's very life hung in a delicate balance, fairing the various moods of the Seven. But he was here now, wasn't he? Perhaps it would count for something. After all, with the Fairfolk weakened, he could have surely slipped away and vanished. Or Blithe would like to think so. However, it would be a life half-lived spent looking over his shoulder. In the end, he preferred keeping his enemies close.

"You look well," he commented softly, pleased with her recovery. "Ready to hunt." There was no doubt in his mind.

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#4
The burgeoning temptation of tantalizing prey whet the cornerstone of the Father's appetite, and the phantom promise of proffered hunger was awakened and abated in turn. Oberon turned his nose to the winsome breeze, studying the story it whispered, the fate it fancied. Like and unlike the deer that were their more common prey, the Fairfolk were still no stranger to caribou - but it was odd, remarkable, to scent them in such numbers while intermixed with the perfume of pine. Swift on the heels of Oberon's acknowledgement, the Mother's voice rose in amorphous summons, a song held high and hard on the chill Spring breeze. Her voice inspired a faint smile on behalf of the Father's features, a flicker of emotion there and gone in the space of a moment.

It took only a few moments of concentrated effort to intersect with Galiene's position; he trotted to her side, a flick of his ear the only acknowledgement for the pointed presence of Blithe. The Unblessed was by now a rote figure in the Fairfolk's formation, but it would take far more than habitability to garner the Father's favor. It was enough that Blithe was here, and willing to do his part; caribou were not easily won, but this was a temptation too dear to ignore. The herd was close, judging by the strength of the scent; it was likely that it would take only a short while to track them, and then to pick out an individual to focus their attention on. The Father's gaze grew distant, thoughtful, even as the wind whipped the spice and honey scent of the nearby Mother back into his face.

Would she remember? Of course she would. She must. As much as Uther's death had shaped and shouldered the temptation of turmoil in Oberon's heart, so too did it wreak havoc in Galiene. But that hunt would be far different than this one; he was not as weak as his kin, to succumb to the ravages of mortal failing. Oberon rolled his shoulders, steeling his muscles to track and to chase. This was a pitiful showing of the Fairfolk - but even in weakness, they would triumph. "We give thanks to the stars that guide our prey, and to the heavens that steer our hearts." His voice was low, deep, a baritone rumble on the bleeding edge of bass. He glanced to Galiene, his crown glistening with the reflections of divine right. "May our triumph speak to the glory of the Fairchildren."
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#5


Galiene
i know you love me

even when i lose my head

guillotine


Four of them made the hunting party complete. Oberon was a given, Caella was a welcome addition, and Blithe was, as always, a surprise. It seemed that wherever Galiene turned, Blithe was there, to offer her protection or healing or comfort. He seemed impossible to shake, though she did not really wish to. She knew he was disadvantaged by birth, and her own prejudices were unshakeable when it came to his status as lesser. He did not have stars upon his back, after all. But he had proven himself over and over again to be willing and able to rise to the occasion, and she remembered this in his favor. She did not remember much in Oberon's favor, though, what with Nassar Tiamat's recent revelations. She would try her patience now, however, and showed no signs of discomfort. He was still the Father, and she had still not decided how she felt about -- well, whatever it was that Nassar had indicated was between she and Oberon. There was much to be unpacked there, but now was not the time.

But their search for the sacred caribou yielded only an elder cow, one unfit for glory but perfectly fit for feeding the pack. The Fairfolk were opportunistic, and they took this opportunity especially well. Their attacks had been stealthy and steadfast, despite a few stumbles. None of them had been seriously injured. The gods had smiled down upon her especially as she had taken the final kill shot, sinking her fangs deep into the animal's side and spilling the last of its innards upon the ground. The elder had been felled by the experienced lot quite easily, and as they stood over the still-warm carcass, Galiene felt all at once satisfied and lustful. She lifted her blood-stained maw and looked out to the three of them. "The gods have blessed us," she announced, taking in the scent of the fresh kill.

"But there are still more riches to be won. The caribou live on, and so shall our hunt." She waited then for Caella, Blithe, or Oberon to state that they would not continue, but she knew it would not happen. They were all still in relatively good health, and there was still more meat to be had. She paused a moment more before she lifted her head to call the rest of the Fairfolk towards them. The second hunt could wait till another day. For now, they would feast.

-exeunt Galiene-

"speak"


© DI
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#6

As soon as the molten eyes of Oberon pierced through her turbulent thoughts. How proud he stood, how valliant the two looked. And to Blithe, the only Fairchild left in the order that did not hold their stars. Golden eyes narrowed upon the male momentarily; he had always shown at events. Always been the first to put himself forwards... well, with his situation she could understand why. Perhaps that was the only trait they shared; the need to please.

Quickly, The Crone made herself known; appearing from the shadows. After The Father's rumbling tones addressed the four of them, she dared to add."Smell indicates that this will be no ordinary hunt. By The Eldritch, we must tread with caution." Then, they moved as one.

--

The Hunt was mildly successful, the great, Ivory stag, though old and weak was surely enough to feed whomever was left. How sickening it was to think that once, they were a mighty force that ruled over Cyrileth with an iron fist... now, such things were laughable in numbers. But if Caella had learnt anything as her short time as Crone, it was that nothing stayed in one place forever, with life came death and vice-versa. The Fairchild's had stood against the test of time. She had faith that they would do long after she was gone. "The gods have blessed us," Caella felt no need to speak, she simply waited. The Mother and Father would take the best parts, then she would have the next. Stomach grumbled in anticipation, jaws salivated to feel the tender flesh and trickles of blood down her throat.

"But there are still more riches to be won. The caribou live on, and so shall our hunt." Muscles ached from the wounds she received from the great Elder, but she would not be deterred. "Indeed, Ivory is a rarity within these beasts. I see it as a sign that we must gorge and take our fill..." Though with a blessing, would come an omen. Golden gaze sat upon Galiene, then to Oberon. "For we know that troubled times are ahead." With that, she awaited the masses. This was truly the god's work and their way of supplementing whomever was left. Deep down, though, Caella would await for the chaos to begin. "Perhaps, before we feast... we must offer his blood. The god's demand their sacrifice." Bloodletting was a gruesome task, but tradition for the Fairfolk. It was a sign to the god's that they might indulge and replenish.

As she ate, Caella's mind was elsewhere; where the shadow's reigned.

-Exit Caella.-


"let us sit back and watch the world burn"
table ▶▶claerie. manip ▶▶ raven
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#7

Now that was invigorating!

Blithe felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Every muscle ached sweetly, the taste of blood satisfactory upon his lips. Until then, he never considered himself much of a fighter. Passivity had been forcefully instilled within him after all. While he couldn't conceive the idea of willfully going against the Father, or anyone else among the Fairchildren who might wish him ill, he no longer felt powerless. This hunt had been an awakening. If he could inflict such wounds upon an elk, then perhaps he could aid in the crusades? He humored the thought for only a moment as he finished licking the blood from his lips.

One look toward Oberon and Blithe was reminded of his own cowardice. It was easier to attack a weakly cow than stand his ground against a fierce bear. He bore the shame of that defeat silently, as well as the guilt for Nimue's death. He prayed for the day he could forget her corpse. It had only been an elder cow. He knew better than to let his imagination run off. Still, he clung to that small inkling of power he felt and intended to savor it for as long as he could.

The hunt had been a success, and the Fairfolk were provided for. That was enough.

-Blithe exits-

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#8
The Fairfolk gathered, what few who were nearby and open to the prospect of a hunt. Oberon frowned, displeased. Their family was not so fallen, not so destitute, that he would excuse such a small party, such a pathetic show of participation. That Blithe came before some of the blood was unacceptable. Even so, four was well enough to hunt a caribou, and Oberon resolved himself to the smaller party. Greetings were exchanged, small murmurs that did not disrupt the cool morning silence. The Mother, though she hid it well, seemed...terse, somehow. Oberon cast his gaze over Galiene's form and figure, but she avoided his gaze. He blinked, nonplussed - but the wind trailed across his senses, reminding him that there was a caribou to hunt, and the pack to feed. He tucked his observation away, his stoic, stern facade instead focusing on the task at hand. There would be time to speak to Galiene later.

The party ventured forth, and soon found an elderly cow that had split from the larger herd. Never one to waste opportunity, the Fairfolk attacked - and ultimately felled the mundane beast. The hunt had progressed well, and none of their number were critically injured. Even Blithe had managed to conduct himself with competence. As the adrenaline wore from his system, Oberon turned to the carcass, opening it wide. The Father's face was stained with blood up to his brow, but he nodded as Galiene noted that their efforts had been blessed by the gods. The white caribou still lived, however, and they resolved to hunt again once the herd had calmed down. There was no point in trying to chase down a panicked foe, certainly not when they had injuries of their own to nurse. A few days, perhaps, to rest and recuperate for all involved - and then they would try again.

Oberon's gaze flickered to Caella as the Crone spoke of sacrifice and bloodletting. Oberon paused only a moment before giving his blessing to the effort - and when it was done, he and Galiene split the choicest morsels of the fallen caribou. Even if the four of them feasted beyond repletion, there would still be plenty of meat to take back to the Tears.

[Exit Oberon]
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