2020-07-15 Do the People Proud
Do the People Proud
Location: Heart of the Caern
Date and Time: July 15th, 2021, midnight
Summary: Forged-in-Flame teaches Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh a very important Rite.
There is something about living on the Bawn and almost never leaving, as well as a personality that is eager to do 'what's right' that lends Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh to often being obnoxiously early for dutiful, important events, and this is one of them. She has been for some time already, as is evidenced, primarily, by the already lit fire in the fire circle. The fire and statue alike have been circled by a neat row of animal bones and teeth, and at the far end of it, crouched nearby and tending it with a stick, is the Half-Moon'd Mule. She seems to be deeply focused on the flames, as if they hold some secret mystery worthy of unlocking.
Alexa Bearegard makes her way along the familiar trails down into the Caern Heart. Passing through the ancient tunnel and its strange, subterranean plantlife, along well-worn passages through the sprinkles of glowing fungus, she makes her way down to the Heart. She's in her dedicated outfit today - T-Shirt with the sleeves ripped off, well-loved blue jeans and high-top boots - with her hair up in a loose bun. When she sees that Paola is already tending the fire, the Galliard affords the Half-Moon a fond smile. She walks up to the fire, too, looking thoughtfully into it, before turning her attention back to Paola. "Hello, Paola," she says. "How are you faring?"
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh looks up from the fire, and it captures her face and curls and antlers in an orange glow when she does, reflecting the dancing light off of her eyes as well. She smiles slow with some attempt to repress it, but her sharp teeth are undeniable signs of her eagerness. "Hola, Forged-In-Flames. Bien, y tu?" She pushes herself to stand, leaning across the heat of the fire to offer Alexa her fire-poking stick. She is dressed today in one of her haphazard outfits that likely appear strange to most Homids, because there is little concern for fashion trends or concerns, or knowledge of them most likely. Also, unusually for her, she doesn't seem to be sporting a fine coat of concrete dust--and she smells like soap.
"Bien," replies Alexa, flashing a grin back. "Alright," she says, and glances out to the entrance before turning back to Paola. "So there's a few key elements to getting the Rite of Accomplishment right, in the eyes of the spirits. There's some significant variations, but the format is basically the same." She stands tall, squares her shoulders a bit, and then takes a position. "First, you want to arrange a time with the person - and make sure you know the list of their deeds, that you might present it to both the audience of your rite and the spirits. The more specific you can be in the reasons they've earned their acclaim, the better." She pauses. "Make sure they know the steps of the ritual too - you'll want some open space between you and the person to be honored, and an audience."
The antlered girl does not have a notepad, or anything to help her with memorizing these instructions, but she watches Alexa with focus and completely rapt attention. She never takes her eyes off of her, but begins moving around the fire--pacing in a way, but using the knuckles of her hands to assist in said movement and never quite rising to a stand. "Okay, okay. I have questions. The time--do I need to make sure Luna is witnessing the Rite? Or Helios? Or...Luna in a specific aspect? The aspect of the Garou I'm performing for? What about listing their deeds? Do they need to hear it in a certain way? Is it storytelling, or music, or just...reciting?" She frowns, looking down for a moment, uncertain of that line of question. "What if I know of deeds they don't share with me? Is it only deeds they tell me to acknowledge? What if they're...dishonorable deeds and they're not telling me? Will the spirits help with that? Is the space for the spirits? Like, make room for Grandmother, you know?" All of these questions come mostly rapidfire as she blows up with excitement and no unhidden anxiety about getting it just right. "The audience needs to be us, or ghostfo--er, spirits? Both?"
"Traditionally, around moonrise, although the time of day isn't relevant to the right," says Alexa with a smile. Her expression falters a bit as Paola begins to tear into the specific questions, and slowly, she begins to chuckle. "I-" she begins. "Okay! There's numerous ways to recite them," she picks up, giving Paola a sideways look. "But the important bit to the ritual is the approach. What you do, is you look over to them, and you call them by name - sternly. Like an elder telling a cub to come over here. Then as they approach - that's when you start reciting the list. Ideally, you finish just as they arrive, but if it's too long-" she laughs. "Then you keep going once they have. But the approach with the recital is a key bit of the ceremony." She gestures with her finger. "You stand over there, and be the person receiving renown for Glory. I'll run you through an example."
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh opens her mouth, clearly ready with another dozen or so questions, but then she stops herself and visibly bites down on her lower lip to try to keep her lid from popping. She nods once, curtly, and takes a four-limbs it back to the spot that Alexa indicates, still crouched there on her heels and knuckles, but then she can no longer contain it and says, "Should I tell you how Glorious I am? How many of Grandfather Serpent's minions of laid low, how many epic stories I've sang and danced at Moot, how many times I've laid my life on the line for Kin and Caern?" She asks the questions so rapid-fire that she barely has time to sneak breathing in.
Alexa laughs again. "No," she says with a grin. "During this part of the rite the recipient is silent. They'll have said their piece to you, in advance, so you know what deeds to present before wolves and the spirits." She stands tall, glancing left and right, and then gestures for Paola to approach. "Alright, Paola. Now you approach. Gradually, so that the Ritemistress has time to list off your deeds."
"Okay. Alright," Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh says, taking a deep breath to focus herself. She sits perfectly still for a moment or two, waiting for the right energy before slowly, just inching forward, she begins to walk on all fours toward Alexa--it seems to dawn on her then that perhaps she should do this a little differently, and with a bent back she lifts her hands off the ground, slowly rising to stand and just walk forward, long-limbed and with a deep stride, but with careful, slow precision, like each step were a specific point of sacred ritual.
The Galliard's lips curl up in an approving smile as she watches Paola proceed. "Here is where I would list your deeds!" she calls out in an auditorium voice. "For all to hear! If you'd fought valiantly when the caern was under attack, for example, I might mention that, and mention your valor! If I am performing this rite, then I believe you worthy already - and it is on me to properly acknowledge and honor your deeds! Before witnesses, both seen and unseen." She waits for Paola to arrive in front of her, and then gives her a nod. "The idea is to tell the audience why both you and the recipient agree that they are worthy of the renown. If someone comes to you, and you do not yet think they are worthy of being acknowledged - then you do not accept the claim to begin with."
She keeps walking until she is only just before Alexa then, close enough to lean in for a hug if she were so inclined, but she does not. Instead she remains there, poised, focused on each word Alexa uttered as if they were sacred components to a secret spell. She nods slowly and then, in a low, almost questioning voice, says, "Then it is like storytelling. You're bringing the stories to the audience. You already know. I already know, but the audience needs to know, and they need to believe." She pauses, a brief crack in her confidence showing, "Right?"
Alexa's lips curl up in another smile, and she taps her temple. "That's the exact reason that this is traditionally a Galliard role," she says. "That, and the fact that it is our business to know a lot of the Sept's deeds, and thus we are in a good position to judge someone worthy. However, being tied to the Master of Challenge is a good reason to know this too." The Galliard extends both her hands, gesturing to an imaginary audience. "Here is where you would open the discussion up to the floor - for the persons's Septmates to either affirm or contest the claim to renown. When I did the rite for Ashlynn a while back, I indicated this by saying... 'Does anyone have something they wish to say regarding Ashlynn's claim to Glory?' - or likewise. The part that is important for the ritual," and with this, she leans down a bit, holding up a finger and lowering her voice, as though it's a secret - though she's not whispering. "Is that other wolves get a chance to speak as to their Glory, or Honor, or Wisdom." "This is, after all, not only a rite for their advancement as acknowledged by the spirits," she says, "but also a social rite. When their Septmates speak of their bravery - then that lends credibility to the ritual. This is also a chance for that question you asked earlier - what if I don't know something bad? Gaia knows, even her best Auspice-" she gives a cheeky grin and a wink. "Doesn't know -every- coming and going. By opening the floor, you invite more voices and more perspectives - and a fuller and more complete picture is painted." "Does that make sense so far?"
"I don't want to interrupt all of these sacred teachings you are gifting me, Forged-in-Flames, so I will just say that when you're a Balancer, you have to be a little of everyone, but I think we're so very close to you. Teaching through song and story--that's how you learn the Litany too, right?" Her mouth splits into a secret grin, that if she had grown up a human girl might be the kind shared between best friends at sleepovers, but is instead shared in this circumstances. Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh looks from side to side, taking the measure of an audience that is not actually there, and then back to Alexa and nods slowly. "Yes, I see. It is a ritual for recognition, but as with the most sacred rituals, they are also points of connection, tying us together, and creating the knotwork that makes us *us*." She nods, just once, but sharply. "I understand, temachtiani."
Alexa glances left and right conspiratorially, and then adds to Paola's commentary. "I always did think our two moons had a lot more in common than people realize," she whispers, sharing the smile back. But then she's back to her full height, and listening to Paola's observations. Alexa's eyes light up a bit at the terminology of 'temachtiani' - a hint of a smile appears in her eyes, but she carries on stoically. "Precisely," she continues. "Now, you'll see variations on this. Sandy had a stage and a microphone she would hand around. In mine, I simply acknowledged the person whose turn it was to speak. The important bit about this part is that one person speaks at a time, and everyone who desires to speak gets a turn." She pauses, and then gives Paola a wryly amused look. "Not that... you would know anything about that sort of situation, Paola," she chuckles. "Swear you were ready to collapse in a pile at the end of that Cracking of the Bone section." "Anyways," she says. "Once everyone has said their piece - then you take it to the spirits to judge. You declare your intent to have them acknowledged for their deeds... and the spirits will send some sort of sign. In Sandy's most recent case that I saw, there was a gust of wind. In mine, the ritual lanterns I had set up along the path of approach flared brightly. Either way - one hopes for a sign."
She nods slowly, her giant bush of curls bouncing as she does--she even washed her hair to prepare for this lesson--she looks more than just a little awed, and even more so excited. "That's something we specialize in. Every voice gets heard," she almost--but not quite--rolls her eyes at the mention of the Cracking of the Bone. "If we're being honest with each other, I'm glad that Fights-With-Honor is going to do it next time. I'm not...I'm not great at long-distance running and, well," she looks to the side a moment, her brows furrowing, "he has a lot of muscles. He'll do fine with the running in circles part. I wanted to die. I felt like my insides were all on fire." She looks back then, her eyes shifting from side to side as she takes in this part of the lesson. "I have had a lot of teachings passed to me be my elders about how to pay attention to what the ghostfolk have to say. I think I will understand the signs, however the might fall."
Alexa smiles approvingly. "Good," she says. "Those are... the core elements, and you can just leave it like that and... the spirits will be happy," she says. "It'll be fine. But of course, putting a little more zest into it can really help the rite do its job as a social function. I did Ashlynn in ritual paint and had beers for socializing after, for instance. Sandy played music and had finger food. People will generally want to congratulate the warrior, should they be found worthy." She chuckles. "I don't blame you. I'm looking forward to seeing more of Fights-with-Honor-rhya around the Sept." She pauses. "I've never really had many talks with him. I should change that."
"I think all of them should be talked to more," Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh says, gesturing vaguely upward, though she very clearly means the Wu family. "They are all very interesting and full of lots of wisdoms, tricks, and teachings. Even their Kin, I think--they do a good job of honouring their Kin in a way that some of us could pay better attention to." Her breed is very likely the most disconnected from Kinfolk, but her words ring true and heavy of her personal opinions. Then she adds, switching back in an almost rollercoaster frenzy, "I think I understand the ways to weave in those things with the ghostfolk find the most desirable. I have had many teachers, and I am glad that you are now among them, Forged-in-Flame." She lowers to a crouch, lifting her eyes--not quite to Alexa's, but just below them--"our teachers are sacred. Every one of them, and they leave part of themselves in us. We can never forget it."
The Galliard pauses, meeting Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh's gaze. Then her hand goes to her chest, and she nods solemnly. "Yes," she agrees. "They are." A smile comes to her lips, and she considers Paola thoughtfully. "Now, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh. I would see you run through the ritual for me!" She reaches down and claps the student's shoulder. She begins to motion for the position Paola had just been earlier - but then she pauses. "Unless there are any further questions?" she asks.
"Well, just the most important one, what deeds am I recognizing?" She asks, suddenly looming forward on all fours, leaning toward Alexa and flaring her nostrils and parting her lips, as if she might be able to smell and taste the important deeds that are about to be faux-recognized.
Alexa runs her tongue over her teeth. "When I was up in Western Eye," she says. "My Mentor, Khalkeus-Rhya, Athro Galliard of the Black Furies - saw me acknowledged there. In particular, I took on a problem cub and assumed primary responsibility for teaching her. At her original Sept she had tried to escape... four, five times? They treated her poorly. Here, I helped her work past the cultural shock, took her to the Umbra, and eventually she came to acknowledge and accept her true nature. She made it through her Rite of Passage, and is now a Cliath." She glances to Paola. "Survival rate for late change cubs going through their Rite is very low, and this was a dangerous one, involving going into the depths of a Blight. I oversaw her, but did not intervene, on her Rite - and she passed with flying colors." She upnods a bit. "We could use that as an example - a claim to Honor for doing duty to the Nation."
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh nods slowly as she listens, reaching up to run her fingers through her dense curls, puffing them up even more than they are already. She go to stand beside the fire, pulling herself to stand without bending her spine at all, almost at the angle of a normal human being, and then gestures with her fingers, pointing at a location on the opposite side of the fire. "Go and stand here," she says magnanimously, picking up her fire poking stick to rustle the coals until the end of it is burning. She lifts it from the flame and gestures around evocatively as she speaks: "Let it be recognized by all of those who attend, blood and pack, spirit and family, that Forged-in-Flames, Unicorn's Daughter and bound to the resplendency of the Gibbous Moon, be recognizing for the deep commitment and Honour she has shown The People! There is a story of a Cub who changed late and had no teachings from us, who rocked and rebelled against sacred tradition, who would run from her destiny and into the jaws of the Enemy, but it was Forged-in-Flame who stepped in, acting in place of Mother, a role sacred in blood and body, to this Cub, and turned her from fear and anger to wisdom and the duty of stewardship. Forged-in-Flame walked her through her first steps within the Umbra, through encounter with dangers unknowable to woman before the Change. She saw her through the travails of the Blight--of scoured earth and consumption and death--and now Last Living Witness walks with head held high as a member of this very Sept. I call the ghostfolk--the spirits of this Caern, of earth and fire, and concrete and iron, and Coyote, laughing in any home he chooses--to witness these Honorable deeds!" Well, there is something to be said about that comment on the closest of Half to Gibbous.
Alexa pauses at that - there's a look in her eye. Long, thoughtful, looking at Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh, but also through her. She realizes she's crying - she blames her Auspice Moon - and brings up a hand to wipe her tears. She approaches gradually, with the gait of a warrior being honored, until she stands before Paola. She holds silent and reverent vigil, head bowed as she pays attention to Paola's rendition of the Rite.
There are no actual witnesses--save for the Smiling Angel herself, and that spirit is not necessarily present--but the statue becomes the center of Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh's focus, and she looks into its ramshackle face, meeting its eyes in a way that she never seems to be willing to do with Alexa, "Who here wishes to speak to the Honor and sacrifice performed by Forged-in-Flame for The People, for family, for community! Who would rise up!" Then, suddenly, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh *leaps* from where she is standing, bounding across to stand in front of the statue where she faced Alexa and holds one hand to her heart and the other aloft as if to spread out the words she is speaking, "Forged-in-Flame does not only bring her wisdom and teachings to the Cubs, but also to the fully Rites and recognized members of the Sept. When the Sept found a need for those who could perform the sacred Rites, she stood up, teaching even those of lower Rank and outside Tribe. She sees the needs of The People, and taught me, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh, the sacred rites we witness here today!" Then she *leaps* again, landing at first on all fours to stand in her original position, right before her teacher and says, "So say the people, and the ghostfolk--" she picks her firepoking stick back up again, and jabs it several times into the center of the fire, sending showers of sparks flying, "they too recognize our sister and compatriot."
The Child of Gaia is struggling not to laugh at this point - it's there, threatening to break out from behind her increasingly large grin. Alexa has to clench her eyes and let out a quiet chuckle through her nose, before taking a deep breath and reassembling some of her image of dignity. Her eyes sparkle a little with a fond look as she watches Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh. She does make it to the end, and when they do, she does afford herself another chuckle. "Okay, so thoughts," says Alexa. "The commemoration portion? -Excellent-. Exemplary, really. You sure you weren't born on the cusp of a moon change?" She glances over to where she'd begun, that smile not quite leaving her face. "Do remember that the first step - and we did kind of skip it in my example, so this is really my fault - the first step is to call them by name and gesture them come to you. Excellent opening to the crowd..." she pauses. "And then presumably in a real ritual, you would ask the spirits to give their judgment, and wait for a sign - or a lack thereof." Her face is in a smile. "But you've got it. That was very well done, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh."
"I think maybe. At least," she pauses a beat, "I was born on the waxing half. So even if it wasn't on the cusp it was on the way--besides," she waves her hand, coincidentally releasing another shower of sparks, "I know all of y'all like to say the Antlered Serpent's children are like a bunch of Crescent Moon's, but if you've ever been to one of our Moot's, it's like two weeks of just stories." She smiles, looking down, briefly lost in a memory, but then the lesson is continuing and she's all focus and intent stares again, "Yes. Call them by their name. Honour that past deeds in that form. And, oh, yeah--I would definitely wait for them, I just, you know," she shrugs and then pokes the stick back into the fire where it stands without her help. "I can be patient, despite all evidence."
Alexa laughs. "You're a delight," she says. "Anyways. Those are the basics. Everything else... should make itself clear to you in practice." She pauses, and her eyes... linger on Paola for a moment. There's a faint smile. "Those moots sound really good," she says. She pauses, and her eyes drift to the ritual fire. She lets them linger a bit, before continuing. "Do you feel like you will be ready to perform the rite for real now? When an opportunity comes, of course."
"They were," she says, staring into the fire for several long and silent moments. She breaks her gaze from it eventually, but when she does she looks around at the huts that have been preserved here at the edge of the heart, turning and leaning in the direction of the closest one, directly behind them. But then she looks back to Alexa and nods, "Thank you, temachtiani. I am very grateful. I--I think I will be ready, if you think so. Would you like to be present when I perform it the first time?" She is on all fours again and lopes toward that hut she was staring at, crossing the circle of bones, she comes back with a gray and white furred pouch and reaches inside, removing three tiny bones which she offers to Alexa with an open palm. They are little sharp teeth, three canines. "I don't have many gifts to give, but I have this."
Alexa gives Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh a proud smile and a slight upnod... she pauses wonderingly when the girl darts to the hut, and then returns with a pouch. She watches Paola as if in trance, and then opens her palm to receive the small teeth, and looks down at them. Her dark brown eyes linger on the canines for a bit, and then she looks up with a grin. "Thank you, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh," she says, and gently closes her lightly calloused fingers around them. "I think I know just what to do with these." She pauses, considering the Philodox, and then reaches over to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go now and do the People proud, will you?" she asks.
"They're opossum teeth. I trapped them myself," she says proudly. She then takes the pouch and hoists it by a crude leather strip draw string around her neck and crouches down, listening. She narrows her eyes for a moment, as if she is not sure how to interpret something Alexa says, but then decides not to question it and just nods once, "Thank you. I will do my best." With that, she moves to the fire, whispers something quietly to it in a foreign language, and then proceeds to kick dirt onto it.
