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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 29, 2024 16:05:10 GMT -5
"One..." Elvira places her foot down behind her, holding the blade of her scimitar at a diagonal and bracing it against her other forearm to block the hefty strike of the guard's longsword, bending her knees to absorb the shock and prepare her parry. "Two..." She now explodes outwards, forcing the armored man back with a grunt. "Three, and..." The blade sings as it disengages with the longsword, whipping downwards and glinting as it does a half-circle. In the motion, she adds her other hand to bring out the full power of the blade. "FOUR!!!" The blade crashes down onto the guard's helmet, shattering it into multiple pieces as it rips the faceguard off. The guard yields and the crowd cheers for her.
Unfortunately, this was all in her head. At least, the other people were. She was in a field outside Rena's house going through the motions of a technique she had read in a book. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she readied herself once more. Taking a defensive stance, she went through the motions of the counter. "One... two... three and four." A simple, yet extraordinarily effective dance. She treated this practice as a ritual, determined to never let herself be caught off guard again. After finishing the motion once more, she looks to the house. She was proud of Rena for building this on her own. Even if it was small, it was cozy and comfortable. A perfect place for a family such as hers.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Feb 2, 2024 1:46:04 GMT -5
Rena sits on the porch in a rocking chair, softly chirping and trilling to her daughter, Distant Whistle, to whom she’s teaching the art of bayonet-based combat, having commissioned a local weaponsmith to forge a pair of blades modeled after her own for her daughter to wield once the chick has attained skill sufficient to graduate from wooden practice blades.
Little Whistle has taken to her mother’s tutelage like a duck to water, moving through the forms Rena teaches her with shaky, hesitant motions, each repetition smoother than the last as her mother watches approvingly. The chick is still small, but Rena’s people start small, mature young and grow little more than a handful of feet tall, so Distant Whistle is really at a rather appropriate age to be learning these things.
Rena’s wraith of a husband works in the kitchen of their family’s little burrow, humming softly to himself as he prepares lunch for his wife and their daughters both adopted and hatched. The second of their first-hatched twins, a skeletal crow by the name of Buzzing Locusts, hums softly to themselves as they read in a little cubby hidden in the depths of their home. They don’t understand why they have to hide from their eldest sister - something about Elvira having undead-related trauma, but Loci wasn’t paying the most attention, too busy drinking in the warmth of their mother’s embrace. Even under the light of the sun, the undead chick feels this all-consuming chill, leftover from their time frozen in their egg. Sometimes they think of their still-frozen siblings, and their bones rattle from the cold. The only thing they’ve found that can remedy the chill is the touch of the living, and the only ones who’ve been willing to provide that warmth thus far have been their mother and sister…
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Feb 2, 2024 14:36:47 GMT -5
Elvira sheathes her scimitar and begins the walk over to Rena, placing a hand on Whistle's head as she passes. The fierce hatchling nearly catches her in their movements, but she dodges out of the way with a laugh. It was her fault, to be fair. She knew she was in the way, but she could not pass up an opportunity to show affection. As she walks on to the porch, she gives a warm smile. "The lor’tyrlr’no,1 is getting better. Such ferocity behind those movements, soon they may even surpass you, anyáraní,"2 she says with a laugh.
The elf sits next to the crow and begins watching Distant Whistle. As she does, Elvira seems to get lost in a thought. This single thought turns into a train of thoughts, all getting deeper and deeper until, suddenly, she cuts through the silence. "Emmë,3 I wonder if I'll ever have kids of my own, whether through adoption or birth. Of course, I know I can't with Tatalia, but..."
With a conflicted and torn look, she turns her gaze to Rena. "There is another one who pulls upon the strings of my heart. An elven man by the name of Rinntoki. He is... sweet. Very sweet. I have never had someone seek me in the way he has, and... well... it makes my heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly and race like those of a hummingbird. Needless to say, I am conflicted. I truly feel for both of them, and I believe both of them feel for me. What should I do, emmë?"
1. "lor’tyrlr’no" = Little One (Ravenstongue, learned from Rena) 2. "An-" = very | "Yára" = ancient, old | "Ní" = woman (Elvish) 3. "Emmë" = mummy (as in "mother") (Elvish)
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Feb 2, 2024 15:33:13 GMT -5
Rena tilts her head slightly as she listens, humming softly as she considers, “...that’s…not something I myself have experience with…I’ve only felt my heart stir in that manner for my dear Bell…but…there were times when other folks in the Valley had similar issues…and…from what I remember, it depends on the consensus that the three of you come to,” her silver eyes slowly close in thought as she trills, “...I would say…talk to Tatalia about it. Gently. Push too hard and she’ll pull away and you’ll lose her. But even with that, even if you balance both sides perfectly, you may be forced to choose between one or the other. When that happens…trust your heart, your instincts. They’ll guide you true. Of course, might not ever happen. You might wind up being able to have both your loves. That seems…unlikely, given what I’ve seen of the world outside the Valley…but it was common enough among the Crows…”
As she trails off, her husband lets out a sound akin to a chiming bell before calling both mother and daughters in for lunch.
Little Whistle lets out an excited chirp, dropping her practice blades and moving to rush into the burrow before freezing as her mother shoots her an amused look. The chick lets out an embarrassed chirp, “r-right! Almost forgot…” her voice is soft and soothing, sounding like the sort of thing you'd expect from a grown woman rather than the young crow. Distant Whistle scurries back to snatch up her wooden practice bayonets before sliding them up the long, loose sleeves of her own tunic. With that done, little Whistle rushes into the burrow, already sliding into a spot around the low table in the dining room, bouncing a little with her downy feathers puffed out in excitement as her father begins to set the table.
Little Loci, meanwhile, is nearing the end of their book, vibrant emerald eyelights shining in the darkness of the cubbyhole hidden in the room they share with their sister - they don't exactly need to sleep, but Whistle can't sleep without something to hold, and Loci's always up for snuggles with their family - as they read. it's a rather interesting read, and they'll be sad to see it over...they think their parents have the next one in the series somewhere in their little collection, but they'd have to check...
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Feb 2, 2024 17:50:30 GMT -5
Elvira frowns a bit, listening and watching the smaller bird running through the motions. She wasn't particularly upset, Rena had quelled most of the pain of hearing bad news with her smooth wording and loving tone. She was, however, worried. One of the worries made it's way to vocal form. "Am I a bad person, emmë?"
The other worries remained silent for now as Tolling Bell would let out his dinner-bell chirp. Standing up, she gives a hug to the crow and walks in, immediately helping Bell set the table and pass out the food. Once set, she takes the moment to look around the house. Everything was different from the last time she had been in here. It was complete, much cozier, and now felt more like a home she was comfortable leaving her only form of family inside. Once more, the sense of pride for her aviankin mother filled her soul.
As she went to sit, she spotted the swirling purple of her body's new colors. She still wasn't used to being connected with a celestial. With a sigh and a smile, the elf turns to her adoptive parents. "Alright, I know you've been waiting to say something. I did a ritual to bond with a celestial. I made a pact to seek justice for those in trouble in exchange for the ability to seek truth on my own part. I... I want to know exactly what happened to my family. The situation with Tatalia and Rinn only spurred me to further seek truth. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't say anything until now."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Feb 2, 2024 19:23:10 GMT -5
Rena chuckles softly, stretching a little as she stands, her head cocked like the crow she is as she moves to follow her daughters into the house. She lets out a soft chirp as she watches her husband set the table before she answers her daughter’s question, “...no. not for wanting what you don’t have, at least. We’re defined by the choices we make. We’re not inherently good, we’re not inherently bad. We just…are. And that’s enough,” the living crow smiles softly, trilling happily as her husband finishes setting the table and pulling the ghostly crow into a soft, tender hug.
Bell lets out a laugh, nuzzling under his wife’s beak and chirping happily as his wisplike feathers fluff out, Distant whistle letting out fake gagging sounds as her parents share an embrace. Reluctantly, they pull apart, Rena moving around the table to her spot and Bell sitting right next to her, nestling against his wife’s side and trilling contentedly.
The parents share a glance as their adopted daughter starts to speak, listening intently as amber eyes grow hard and piercing, and silver eyes turn cold and calculating. They nestle against eachother, one of Rena’s wings flaring to mantle around her husband’s shoulders.
There’s silence for a long moment as Rena and Bell consider, their eyes slowly softening before Bell speaks, “...we’ll support you in this, wherever it takes you. We’re family,” he smiles softly, those amber eyes gazing into those of his elven daughter even as his wife speaks.
“...and family helps family,” Rena finishes, then fixes Elvira with those silver eyes of hers, “...just…be careful, dear. We’ve had…poor experience with such deals in the past. I don’t want you getting hurt”
Distant Whistle - who doesn’t understand what the grownups are talking about - is already digging into her food with happy chirps. Of note is what appears to be a collection of fried giblets on her plate, which she snaps up greedily.
Buzzing Locusts has finished their book by this point, and is doing their best impression of a pile of bones. It’s a very good impression, with them being a spirit animating a skeleton and all. Eventually they get bored of the bone-pile impression, and the little skele-crow crawls from the little niche dug under Whistle’s bed, joints clicking softly as they peek into the central room of the burrow where their family is eating at the low table, those emerald eyelights blinking as they eye the back of Elvira’s head before beginning to slowly, carefully creep toward the study where precious books await.
Unfortunately, bone on wood makes a very distinctive clicking sound…
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Feb 3, 2024 15:14:06 GMT -5
She was just about to place a hug on the older crows when the strange clicking sound sounded out behind her. She turns to see the skeletal being tapping across the floor. A gasp escapes her and she was just about to draw her scimitar when it hits her.
This was her sibling.
"Oh... oh my gods," she says shakily. Kneeling down, she reaches out and takes the skeletal chick's hand. Her own hands are shaky as she looks at his exposed finger bones. She sits down, brings the undead chick into her lap, draws her blade, gleaming with holy light, and...
"Have you been taught to use a weapon, love?" Her voice was still shaky, and there were the tiniest bits of tears in her eyes, but she smiled. Once Loci had taken the blade, she wrapped her arms around him carefully and plants a soft kiss on the top of his skull. "I'm sorry lor’tyrlr’no, were you hiding from me? I... I have things to work through, but I will punish you no further for my own personal issues. I love you, melwa,1 and I shall protect you for as long as I grace this world."
1. "Melwa" = Lovely
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Feb 3, 2024 16:04:16 GMT -5
Rena and Bell both flinch when they see their adopted daughter’s hand go to her scimitar, Rena already standing, her eyes burning the cold white of frozen bone before she stops when she sees the way Elvira stops herself. The parents relax a little when they hear their adopted daughter’s voice again, Rena taking slow, steadying breaths as her eyes fade back to silver.
Bell presses against his wife, letting out a nervous trill as he nuzzles into Rena’s feathers. He watches Elvira interact with Loci with hopeful amber eyes, reflexively bringing a cup of fragrant tea up to his beak to inhale the steam.
Whistle stops eating, tilting her head as she watches her sister hold their brother, then she bolts across the table, panic in her crimson eyes when Elvira draws the smaller blade that shines with holy light. She skids to a stop, dull talons scraping on the wooden floorboards when her sister hands the blade to Loci. Whistle cautiously, slowly steps closer, moving like she’s afraid the wrong move will break whatever strange magic has taken effect.
Loci, meanwhile, quivers, his bones rattling nervously as his eldest sister approaches him. He flinches a little when she takes his hand, emerald eyelights jittering nervously as he suddenly becomes very aware of how sharp his talons are against Elvira's skin. The warmth of her touch is still distracting - she’s actually warmer than either Whistle or his mother, to an almost painful degree. He calms when she pulls him into her lap, instinctively pressing into the roaring fire of her warmth. His eyelights blink - briefly flashing to thin lines across his dark sockets - as Elvira speaks, before speaking in his own soft, nervous tones, “...I-I…s’b-babs’k1 ‘ve been t-teaching me an’ Whistle f-for the last few weeks…I-I c-can’t really…do m-much without…blacking o-out…m-mom says she has t-to t-take co-control of m-my bones when that h-happens…t-to keep me fr-from hurting anyone…sh-she doesn’t like it, though…she a-always looks sad when it happens...” he shivers then, his bones rattling against eachother as he looks down at the frozen egg floating in his ribcage, “...I-I don’ m-mind, though…I-I don’ wanna hurt a-anyone ‘nless the-they try an’ hurt me first…a-an the-the…the thing the-that comes ou-out when I bl-black out…i-it’s k-kinda like h-how mom gets when sh-she changes…a-all c-cold a-and h-hungry…o-only li-listens t-to mom…b-but…I-I can s-sorta see the-the warmth? ‘S-s like l-little stars…” the little skeletal crow trails off, nestling a little more firmly into his eldest sister’s lap as she hands him the blade, letting out a soft coo at the heat radiating from it that he somehow knows only he can feel. Loci looks back up at his elvish sister, then, emerald eyelights gently shining in the darkness of his sockets, “...l-love you too, bi-big sis...”
1 - Ravenstongue - mother/father/parent - pluralized
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Feb 9, 2024 14:19:47 GMT -5
Elvira smiles softly as she holds Loci closer. Something about this skeletal bird fascinated her and just made her heart flutter. Maybe it was the way this bird cared about everyone and everything, the way they nuzzled closer, or simply the way they defied all expectations. Nevertheless, she felt the smoothness of Loci's bones against her skin and smiled. The chill from their traumatic past transferred into her warm center. Of course, she held them even closer, holding the bird in a way that may have squished a flesh-and-blood creature. "You have a beautiful aura, melwa. Do you like the stars? I have a story for you."
She turns him carefully to face her and gives him perhaps the warmest smile he had ever seen. There was a hidden pain there, though.
"Way back around the year 1250, the first of my family was born. It is said that the first of my family was born from the union of a protector and an adventurer. They were named 'Imin' by their parents. Now, Imin quickly made a name for themselves as an astronomer, viewing the stars from the eyes of an elf."
Elvira made sure to add drama to the delivery of the next part, waving her hands in the air as she tried to draw a picture with her words "The story goes that one lonely night, while pining for an elven woman who did not love them back, they opened their eyes to the stars once more and saw the most beauteous thing. Something beyond imagination. They saw... a Celestial." With this, she rolls her sleeves up to show the marks of celestial bonding on her arms "This Celestial brought themselves down to Imin and embraced them in the most loving hug one could possibly imagine. Imin and the Celestial are said to have danced the night away in each other's embrace. Every night, Imin would open their eyes to the stars, and every night they would dance with this Celestial." She reaches over and grabs Whistle, giving her a playful twirl to emphasize the dance in the story.
"That happened over, and over, and over again until one fateful night." She pauses and adds a dramatic voice. "A bandit group spotted the two dancing and, out of jealousy, they thrust their blades into Imin. The celestial, distraught at the sight, immediately unleashed their full power upon the group and killed them, one by one. Once the bandits were all obliterated, the celestial turned back to their fallen lover and wept upon Imin's lifeless body. It is said they wept so loud, Lunala herself made an appearance. Seeing one of her celestials in such grief, she bestowed a gift upon them. The gift of life. The celestial was granted the child of Imin, a boy named Attëa Elendil. 'The second lover of the stars,' is what the name translates to. Thus is the story of the beginning of my family."
She lets out a sigh, and gives a sad look. "Now, however, I am the last living Elendil, the last of the original lovers of the stars."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Feb 9, 2024 15:24:14 GMT -5
Loci tilts his head, emerald eyelights shining with wonder and curiosity as he listens intently to his eldest sister’s story. Those eyelights twist and warp into glittering stars as he sees the marks on her arms, and he looks up at her, letting out a quiet, wonder-filled trill. The little skeletal crow lets out a happy chirp when she spins him, his bones beginning to rattle in excitement. That excitement fades somewhat when he hears of how Imin was slain, but comes back full force when it’s revealed that this was Elvira’s ancestor she was speaking of, “y-you ha-have ce-cel-celestial bl-blood, the-then? tha-that’s incredible!” The rings of emerald light in his shadowed sockets are big and starry as he nestles into her arms, the chill in his bones seeping into her…slower than she would expect, given how cold to the touch he is. She burns hot to his senses, the markings across her skin shimmering like starlight to his undead eyes. Loci trills softly, settling a little more firmly into his eldest sister’s arms - and then he lets out a startled squawk as the middle sibling tackles him and Elvira into a hug, letting out a joyous flurry of chirps and trills, her facial feathers puffed out in happiness.
Rena sighs softly, her own feathers ruffling in the manner of a smile as she Blinks over to hug her children, wrapping her wings around them and letting out a contented chirp, ”...we were worried ‘bout how ye were going tae react t’seein’ ‘im…’m glad ye proved us wrong, Elvi…didnae want tae ‘ave t’choose…” the crow chirps softly, gently squeezing her wings around her children. She’s…still a little concerned about the fact that her daughter had needed a moment to recognize the personhood of her brother, but…well, trauma’s hard to deal with. Rena would know…yes, Rena would know about trauma far better than many. She hugs her family a little tighter at the thought, some part of her already planning how she can train the skills needed to free the other two frozen chicks from their icy prisons. She has the eggs, that much alone will make things much easier…she breaks herself out of those thoughts with a dismissive ruffling of her feathers, opting instead to nuzzle each of her children in turn, trilling happily as she peppers them with gentle pecks and nibbles.
Bell sighs softly, walking over to join the group embrace, the embers peppering his feathers shining softly and trailing smoke as he gently nuzzles into his wife’s shoulder, tangibly relaxing against her as he trills, “...dinnae know what we’d’ve done…y’re part o’ the family, one o’ our chicks…I jus’ know it’d’ve gone poorly…”
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