RP:Striving After Wind

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Summary: Valrae, with the help of her coven, attempt a ritual to reveal answers about the mysterious winds that have rolled through Cenril. Brennia, taking a thoughtful walk on the beach, stumbles upon them and watches as the ritual goes awry. The pair have a conversation after, with Brennia offering the witch some much needed parting words of wisdom.

Rocky Shore

Valrae || The night was unseasonably cold for summer in Cenril. The strange howling wind was ceaseless in it’s moaning, buffeting against the jutting rock and spraying saltwater and sand as it went. Moonlight reflected off of the choppy surface of the sea and the shallow tide pools fitfully, no surface resting as it was caught in the ominous gale. Valrae’s coven had gathered at moonrise with the majority standing around a bright balefire that burned high, the flames dancing erratically with the wind. Drum heavy music and quiet conversation was carried away with the wind, echoed eerily off of the stone that surrounded them. Near the fire, there is a smooth stone altar. On it rests a silver chalice, an athame and the emerald crystal skull in a wooden bowl of salt. Valrae stood apart, ankle deep in the chilled, fitful ocean. She wore a ceremonial white shift despite the cold. The wind caught in her unbound hair, the curled ends snapping behind her and shining like starsilk in the dim moonlight. A circlet of gold sat atop her head, triple moons of opal resting over her pale brow. The witch felt power enter her as she called down the moon and prayed for guidance. Turning back to her coven, Valrae picks her way back toward the fire, careful to avoid stepping on the sharp stones that littered the path.

Brennia had been looking for a nice area to camp out for the night now that she’s a bit more on the mend from a recent surgery. Sporting an oversized chord knit sweater and velvet leggings for warmth, the avian even curls her wings around herself like a cloak this night. If it weren’t for her somewhat ashen face, she would blend right in with the night. Her long chestnut sun kissed hair sits high atop her crown as she had been looking up and down the beach, but as her footsteps draw nearer to a ritual she knows nothing about, she has been distracted by the sea. How beautifully dangerous she is and how jealous she can be, but somehow… someday soon she needs to find a way back to Alithrya to check on her dear friend Reginae. Tonight Brennia roams alone to allow Thedez and Gamsiz some privacy. Zahrani would usually be the one walking along the beach with her, but she is quite occupied with adventuring and even though Brennia misses her lover, she understands wholeheartedly the wanderlust. Suddenly, she’s aware that there is a group of ominous looking women near her and solid teal eyes widen as she glances from person to person. “Oh… my. I’m so sorry - I just,” beginning to back away slowly in embarrassment as her cheeks begin to take on a pinkish hue, she looks behind her, but remembers that Thedez is spending the night with his lover. Shewwwt. A gentle cleaning of her throat as a warm smile spread across her lush lips, “pardon me. Many apologies,” her sleeves bunches up at her hands raise to her cheats as if she could try to get any smaller than she currently feels.

Valrae || Nearing the balefire, a circle drawn from the sand becomes clear in the flickering shadows of the firelight. Inside the circle, and despite the strange wind, there is a sense of comradery and fellowship. Belinda’s bawd laugh bounces around them as she moves about the small crowd offering honey cakes and warm cider. When Valrae enters, her aunt drapes a scarlet cloak over her shoulders and pats her cheek with a loving smile. Just as she’s stepping forward, murmurs of Brennia’s arrival start. Valrae turns, alarm and fear stirring in her first. They both fall away when her eyes find the avian woman and she offers a welcoming smile. “Merry meet,” She calls, stepping out of the center and walking toward her. The witch stops short of exiting the circle. “It’s a cold night for a ritual, we know…” Suddenly, the familiarity of the other woman strikes her and her brows knit together as she tires to place her. “We’ve met…?” Her question is hesitant. “I’m almost sure of it… Brennia?”

Brennia had just turned in order to hightail it back to the protection of the Isran Collective, but pauses and looks over her shoulder and a voice calls out to her. When her name is spoken, she turns and that smile returns, “greetings. Yes it is a cold night,” her pupiless gaze inspects the shorter woman’s visage. “Yes, that is my name.” Her smoky alter timber inquires in a friendly way, “forgive me, you are?” My, oh my. Has she really gotten so old that she doesn’t remember names and faces anymore? She knows her memory had been altered when she had come so close to leaving this mortal coil, but the avian believed that she recalled everything once more - and then some thanks to Raven. The pinkish hue begins to turn more scarlet as she continues to stand there and force herself to remember who this is? Her massive onyx shaded wings shift as she pulls her sweater more securely over a bony shoulder. The woman looks… hollow, but on the outside she fakes it.

Valrae’s smile blooms, pleased to have remembered correctly. She doesn’t seem to mind that Brennia can’t place her. “Some call me Sara,” She says carefully. “We were just about to perform a small ritual, but you could join us for a moment?” The witch offers tentatively, noticing there is an almost fragileness about the woman that Val doesn’t quite remember from their first meeting. Belina shoulders her way into the conversation then, “Mery meet!” She calls in her cheery voice. “We’ve got warm cider and honey cakes,” The older woman offers. “Just come in perfect trust and step right in,” The plump woman gestures toward the line in the sand. “You can get warm a spell before heading back out… This wind is something else.” Valrae nods, concerns that lingered in her mind crossing her face like a dark shadow. It was odd. She couldn’t remember a time Cenril had been this cold. Hurricanes and tropical storms happened, that was nothing new, but there was something different in the wind… Or perhaps Valrae had become more cynical and jaded since her death. “You are welcome,” The witch echoes her aunt's invitation, as none of the other coven members seemed to protest. It would be a fairly simple ritual, after all.

Brennia wouldn't dare be rude and the offering of food and drink is nice. She can just hold onto the warm cider and sniff the honeycake or something. By someone's gods - she cannot wait until she can eat properly again or have a deep red glass of wine. "Nice to meet you Sara," the hint of her accent phasing through as she says the woman's faux name. Her ponytail swings from shoulder to shoulder as she quickly looks around in attempts to find a familiar face, but to no avail. Being handed food, she just smiles sweetly and nods once, "thank you." With a deep breath, she sort of accepts her fate due to her over friendliness, but she cannot help it. The bard continues to search for faces familiar from her nightmares in attempts to know that all who escaped the farm had lived and hopefully discover that their lives have gone back to normal because if it happened for them, why can't it happen for her. Being drawn out of her thought process, she softly clears her throat to inquire, "excuse me, but… what is this?"

Valrae, shaking off her returned sense of unrest, smiles again and steps back to allow Brennia into the circle. Others welcome her as Belinda ushers her around for brief introductions of the women that have gathered before pushing food and drink into her hand and offering her a place to sit on one of the taller, smooth rocks. “Here you are dear,” The other woman says, mothering her out of habit by offering a soft throw from her seemingly bottomless basket of goodies. “That is a honey cake, made them myself,” She adds proudly. “She’s forever feeding all of us,” A ginger haired witch near Brennia laughs, “It’s best to just take it and throw it over your shoulder when she isn’t looking…” Belinda waves a dismissive hand toward her. “Juniper you hush,” Valrae sighs. “We’re a coven. Some of us are refugees of Larket, others are from my ancestral home that made the journey in effort to resist the witch hunters.” Valrae moves to the center of the circle again to stand in front of the altar. Now, she addresses the coven at large. “We’ve gathered here in perfect trust. Tonight we will call on the goddess to offer her wisdom and insight.” The coven shifts, slowly moving to form a wider circle around the fire. There were murmurs, quiet conversations about the ill omen of wind and the sudden sickness that seemingly came from the unusual weather, others spoke of recent sightings of Cramer’s hunters inside the barrier that defended them. Valrae, in her practiced way, let those conversations fade away from her mind. Power fell over her, cloaking her as warmly as the scarlet that lifted in the wind that howled all around them. She lifted her hands again, once more calling for the spirit of the goddess, before passing the chalice around to her sister witches. As they drank, Valrae lifted the skull. It’s power was dark and ancient and it carried a hungry, endlessly yawning chill that was eerily reminiscent of the strange wind. She felt that power like the fires of her death, spreading from the tips of her finger to her toes. With the skull in one hand, Valrae cast the salt that it had rested on into the balefire. It flashed wickedly, the flames growing tall and hungry. The orange gave way to emerald, the newly green glow casting dark shadows all around them. “I call on the powers of the north, south, east and west. I call on the goddess.” As her voice called out, the flames began to rise higher… And scream. Harrowing, terrible screaming surrounded them. Valrae’s body jerked and the skull fell from her hand. The fire died abruptly, at exactly the moment the skull touched the sand. Shaken, the witch takes a step back from the dull glowing embers of the fire. In the new darkness, the coven began to whisper in worried tones. Belina recovers first, ordering a swift clean up of the ritual sight. Valrae stood frozen, her dark eyes locked on the remains of the fire as the coven cleansed the area. Most were quick to leave, gathering their things and saying quick goodbyes. When the witch finally recovers, she’s quick to gather the skull and place it back into it’s bindings. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes to Brennia. “That was… That doesn't usually happen,” She offers lamely.

Brennia lets out a contagious raspy giggle at Juniper, but quickly changes her expression when the motherly Balinda hushes them. The avian sits sort of awkwardly with a treat in one hand and the warm cider in the other, but she is curious to witness what is about to transpire. She does remember a ritual a while back which her bard guild members helped add to the strength of the witches even though so much was going on at once that she didn't get a chance to appreciate the art… oddly enough, that skull looks familiar. Gods and goddesses? How strange it all seems to Brennia and she sort of has to check herself because she had a run in with a nasty god, right? Oh how she tried so hard to forget that time. The noise is quite a nuisance to Brennia and her augmented hearing, but all she does is wince a little at the failing spell. Concern shifts her expression as she slowly helps clean the site up until she comes nearer to Valrae and at such closeness, the witch can smell her favorite scent. "It wasn't?" Her gaze shifts down into the strange woman who calls herself Sara, "what usually happens, Sara?" As her head tilts in the genuine interest of her question, her ponytail falls lazily to that side.

Valrae had paled after the failed ritual. As the gathering cleared, she pulled her cloak tighter and shook her head. Was it a failed ritual or a warning? She’d called this meeting for answers, some sort of assurance, but felt more unsure now. She blinks, looking back to Brennia she offers a weak smile. “Sometimes things are revealed to us in the fire. Flashes of things, or feelings. It’s a little different every time.” The witch shrugs. “Maybe it was the skull,” She says softly, mostly to herself. It was true enough that she still had little understanding of the artifact. Belinda appears again, pushing cider into Valrae’s hand. “You need it,” She says firmly, before she can object. Resigned, the witch hugs the warm mug in her hands and looks at Brennia anew. The beach was nearly empty now, with only the three of them remaining as the others disappeared into the night. “What brought you out here in this weather?” She asks conversationally.

Brennia lingers that unsettling teal gaze on the witches face until her smoky voice finally ponders, "there have been times when I work on a song, rehearse and perfect it, but I am failing to lace a bard spell within it. It's these times that seem the most hopeless," especially now that she is ordered to stop singing lest she lose her voice forever. "During a well needed silence… I can find my answer. It is something within me that isn't allowing me to connect. So, I take some time. I reflect and travel a little, but when I come back after rearranging my jigsaw puzzle - it's clearer and I can focus." Ugh! What is happening to her? Is she starting to speak in riddles like her mother did now? As poetic and wise as her words might seem, she smiles warmly again, "could be something weighing on your mind or heart." As to what brought her out this far from the Isran Collective, "I was just going on a stroll that my love and I usually do while also leaving my guard to spend a little time with his boyfriend." So people are expecting me, lady!

Valrae listens intently, her eyes downcast on the dark, smooth surface of her drink. She could see the dim reflection on the stars on the still surface. Brennia’s avian scent carries over her as she ponders and the familiar smells of home wash over her. The smell of books, the lemon cleaner she used on her floors, and of her son. With the bard’s voice, they both wreathed around her and brought a warm reassurance with them that did wonders to smooth the most ragged edges of her unrest. She offers the woman a smile again, this one more genuine. “I’ll have to try that sometime,” The witch laughs. “Goddess knows I could use a clear mind,” Belina scoffs, as if to say: As if! Valrae takes a long drink. “Did you need to get back then?” She asks. The endlessly howling wind hardly made their current location a good place for casual conversation, as it were. “Do you have far to go home or are you staying in Cenril?”

Brennia allows a comfortable silence to rest between them, “if you feel the desire to vent out some frustrations, sometimes talking to a neutral person can give you some perspective.” Then she genuinely offers, “and I’m all ears,” with another grin for the joke at her own expense because wow Brennia, yeah those are some long tapered ears. “In due time miss, Sara,” the avian looks up shore at the docks as if looking for something that isn’t there. “For the night I am. The bards college of Schezerade calls for the return of it’s dean. Students have completed the first week with minimal trouble, but right now that’s where I need to be,” she sighs softly already missing summer break. It’s a curious thing as to why she’s in Cenril to begin with right now if the semester is just starting at the college. Was she trying to shirk her responsibilities? Or did an emergency pull her away. By the near gaunt look and bloodshot baggy eyes of the woman, it’s a wonder why she’s traveling at all. The more someone might look upon Brennia in her current state, one could see the potential of alluring beauty, but right now she just looks rough and like she’s been through hell. Considering most avian’s trait of being horribly vain about their looks, this might purplex her onlookers furthermore.

Valrae laughs easily at Brennia’s joke, “You might be right,” The witch agrees, taking another drink of her cider. The warmth spread but did not stay. “My life is a bit complicated though, I’m afraid I would steal your whole night away just to explain it… And I’m sure those who are waiting on you wouldn’t care much for that.” She smiles sweetly. “Oh! You’re the dean?” Genuine interest lights in her emerald eyes. “How wonderful. I’ve never seen Schezerade, I’d love to visit sometime… When things are less…” She waves a hand dismissively around them. “Messy.” Belinda appears, having tucked away all of her things in her mysterious basket. Ever the mother hen, she pats Brennia’s shoulder. “Dear, you look as if you could use a good meal and night's sleep. Are you feeling well?” Valrae’s smile disappears, replaced with a shocked frown. “Belinda!” She looks at Brennia, “I’m so sorry, she doesn’t really have a filter…”

Brennia feels good that she made the stranger laugh, “life /is/ messy, but that’s what makes it worth living. You power through obstacles with proof that you’ve survived in the form of scars, whether internal, external or emotional.” With a shrug, she offers, “come by whenever and don’t let life pass you by while waiting for things to be a certain way.” Spoken by someone who can do nothing but wait around due to her current health, total hypocrite. A warm smile is offered to Belinda, someone who she’s probably surpasser in age a few times now, “that’s the plan.” The bard vaguely replied before turning those teal hues on the witch, “either way, I’m sure Thedez would love to have some more time with his love, so I’ve got all the time in the world.” Those cozy large black wings curve around herself once more to keep warm and then she casually mentions, “this chill in Cenril… something isn’t right.” It’s never been her concern, Schezerade can feel worlds away sometimes and after that whole jar thing, it’s been hard to focus on much of anything else.

Valrae smiles at the bard. “That’s very wise,” She murmurs thoughtfully. The conversation lulls comfortably, the wind and the sound of waves crashing into the shoreline rising between them. “I might take you up on that offer,” She decides, smiling. “I’d love to see Schezerade, maybe you could give me the grand tour?” The witch laughs. With Belina fussing around the waning embers of the fire, Valrae sighs. “Something is amiss,” She agrees, eyes suddenly alight again and pleased that someone finally seems to agree with her. “I’ve lived in Cenril for most of my life, I know storms roll through but this… This isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. I’d hoped the fire would reveal something but… Well, you saw how that went.” Valrae laughs again but it was devoid of any real humor. “It was lovely to see you again, I hope we could catch up again soon? Perhaps somewhere the weather isn’t as… Out of control?” The witch shoulders the bag she’d tucked the emerald skull away in. “Merry part, Brennia. May we meet again,” With a parting smile, Valrae and Belinda head off into the darkness of the night.