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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 16, 2024 0:24:26 GMT -5
Rena sighs to herself, wings shifting on her back as she scans her family’s surroundings with boredom and disdain, those silver eyes shimmering softly as she nestles against Nev’s side, one wing extended to form a cushion for her children to nestle back against. The chicks let out irritated, tired chirps as they curl up against each other and their mother’s wing, the living fledglings settling in for a quick nap as their undead siblings work at their respective hobbies, Loci idly sketching out a picture of the gridlocked traffic and Wind carving a block of wood into the shape of the man driving the cart that the Blackfeathers had hitched a ride on. Bell, for his part, nestles against Nev’s other side, cooing softly as the taller wraith holds both him and Rena close…
…then those silver eyes catch on something of interest - A familiar, skull faced lizard struggling through the gridlocked traffic. Rena lets out a joyous chirp, sparing a moment to nudge her living children awake and gesturing toward Beak before abruptly hurling herself forward to wrap the elder skeleton up in an exuberant hug, “eijh’anahr1, Beak! How has the capitol been treating you, dear one?” the crow pulls back a little, her hands gently grasping Beak’s own as she regards the lizard with a tilted head and curious silver eyes.
Even as all this is happening, the other Blackfeathers are scrambling toward them, the chicks chirping and trilling in joy and excitement - and then Nev has gently plucked Beak from their wife’s arms to pull her into a soft hug as they gently nuzzle the elder skeleton, “...never thanked ye properly…ye were the first t’ hear me in years, an’ I cannae help but think that that’s part o’ what tore the veil o’ the Hag’s curse…”
1 - Ravenstongue - good/great/happy tidings/greetings
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Post by Beak on Jun 16, 2024 1:43:22 GMT -5
The elder skeleton is still far more shy about appearing in public as an elder skeleton than the Blackfeather youths are, and thus is in full midst of the "old woman with a skull mask" act when spotted. And stars above, so many people to be mindful of! What is this traffic, anyway??
That said, she does seem... happy? Happier, anyway. She seems like someone who... well... has a ways to go, but what she's experienced so far is at least a positive step. Marion had told her that getting out from her lonely marshlands and experiencing the festival would do her some good, and he seems to have been correct at least so far.
"Kik raztin sak kos raksirun!"1 she exclaims upon seeing and reuniting with Rena and her family, all too happy to return the embrace and the delight it brings. "I... ah... seem to be making... progress? How about you, dearie?"
A sensible answer, one supposes. Fifty years of isolation after three to four thousand years of death aren't that easy to dispel, and Beak's depression is still very much a work in progress. Still, she already seems to be in better spirits than she was in Marsh Flats, at the very least.
Her levity dissipating, she turns to Nev with a far more solemn nod. "I should thank you for much the same, in truth. My veil might not have been as literal as yours, but make no mistake; I was lost all the same. I feel as if we each rescued the other from our respective prisons. You saw me, just as I heard you... and you saw my people, too. Did you know that this was the first time I've spoken an Ibekki greeting since I was alive? And now I'm thinking... I want to become Gri'kka, Nev. I want to honor them all as our mystics and elders would have. There is so much in my way. It seems impossible. But I want to, and that alone is something I haven't felt since I can remember. You lit a flame under me that's been dead as long as I have."
1 - The words to Ibekki greetings were far more formal, and thus would sound stilted if translated directly. The most accurate literal translation for this one would be something like "You honor me with your presence," but the spirit is something more jubilant exchanged between old friends, akin to "Oh, hello! So good to see you!" There is much context and intent that gets lost in translation.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 16, 2024 2:43:35 GMT -5
Rena lets out an affectionate chirp as she smiles up at the elder skeleton currently being wrapped up in her spouse’s arms, “doing well! Making little slivers o’ progress toward gettin’ Hum an’ Chime out o’ their eggs…” the silver eyed crow trills thoughtfully, “...not sure why the livin’ eggs ‘re locked t’ the dead ones, but as long as I can get the last two hatched before too long I’m nae too fussed…”
The wraith of ink and starlight bobs their head in response to Beak’s words, an avian smile in the ruffling of the feathers around their beak as they speak, “...there are few honors greater than being remembered, in my eyes…when their stars return to the night above, I’m sure they’ll look on your works with pride1,” Nev trills softly, tilting their head as they consider, “...there’s a few options that I can think of. ye could hunt through the museums for any scraps that may have been preserved…ye could try an’ rebuild everything off your own recollection…or…'' they glance toward Rena, who nods a little, “...or we could take ye on a trip t’ visit the ruins o’ the Raven Queen’s Archives ‘n ye can see what’s t’ be found there…”
1 - The Stars were believed by the people of the Valley of Crows to be the afterlife. More specifically, they believed that the stars that dot the night sky are the souls of those who have passed yet remain in stories and memory...
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Post by Beak on Jun 16, 2024 3:13:21 GMT -5
Beak ponders Rena's question with a quizzical headtilt. "I am not of your kind, of course, except through the kindness of you accepting me into your fold." A polite and grateful bow of her head at that. "Had I to guess, though, I have seen quite the strong familial bonds among your children. It would not surprise me at all if these two simply have already attached to each other, and neither is willing to leave the other behind."
The bustle of the crowd is proving quite the distraction. Luckily, her telepathy allows her messages to enter the Blackfeathers' minds without being drowned out by the noise of the crowd. Unluckily, the noise of the crowd is so much more than Beak is used to that it proves something of a challenge to keep the mental links active and stable. Whatever is happening in the streets up ahead, it seems quite a few people are losing their patience.
She turns her attention to Nev once more, nodding. "Thank you. Upon my resurrection, I spent so many years wondering why me... a question I still have yet to answer, in truth. But if I can do my kin proud in this endeavor, perhaps it can absolve me of my failure to defend them." Rather than dwelling too much on that sad interpretation of events, she focuses instead on Nev's offer. "The second option seems unlikely because there simply is too much I never learned. I was a soldier; it was not my duty to know any rites or rituals, any history or culture. Any random person in this crowd has as much right to call themselves Gri'kka from what they already know as I do, at present. My task was little more than to defend my people on the battlefield, and... well, I suppose that part could have gone better...."
She shakes her head, really trying not to let that thought bring her down on such a festive night. "No, finding records or relics seems to be the best idea so far. I was hoping to find the ruins of our village somewhere in the marsh by now, but... you would take me to your people's archives? Truly..? You've already done so much for me...."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 16, 2024 13:12:30 GMT -5
Nev smiles softly, chuckling a little as they speak, “...we’d be happy to serve as your guards and guides through the frozen Valley…I expect there to be much preparation between now and then, however…” the wraith of ink and stardust gently squeezes Beak in their arms again before slowly setting her down…aaaaand she’s immediately mobbed by the chicks, the little crows chirping and trilling happily as they surround the elder skeleton in a flurry of feathers and bones, Loci grabbing onto one of her hands and Wind grabbing onto the other, the two little skeletons smiling - or their equivalent, which involves their eye lights blinking to upward curves - up at her as they trill.
And then Bell clears his throat, and the chicks pull away enough to let their father approach, the specter of smoke and embers holding smallish wooden case in his hands, “...made somethin’ for ye, Beak. figured ye could maybe use some new gloves, ‘n while I was at it I made a bit o’ a force enhancer for one o’ them…though I only had enough Cold Iron on hand for that much,'' Bell smiles, letting out a soft trill as he offers the case to Beak…
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Post by Beak on Jun 16, 2024 13:29:12 GMT -5
(OOC: Beak just purchased new cold iron-enhanced gloves in the weapon shop at the time this post was written; them being a gift from Bell is flavor.)
Friendly greetings, hugs, hand-holding... and now gifts?? Beak recalls how she and the Blackfeather clan first met--a dubious merchant had hired them under false pretenses to kill her, only for them to effectively adopt her after seeing the truth. There are days when Beak wonders if the Blackfeathers may still be looking to carry out that contract on her, though; at this rate, they are absolutely going to move her and make her feel things to death.
"Ah, thank you! Thank you... these gloves are... somewhat old and worn, yes. It was about time I got some new ones... and how did you know I was looking for something with cold iron?" A wry grin-equivalent. It would take some careful reading between the lines, but she supposes one could have noticed just how cautious the elder skeleton has always been about her disguise--more than she's ever needed to be if the undead Blackfeather chicks can run around openly as they are--and gathered that Beak must come from a time and place with much more of a cultural "kill on sight" approach toward the undead and other beings from the Elder realm. And there have been reports of increased mischief from the fae, as of late....
She wastes no time in trying them on, even if that means having to expose her bare skeletal hands for the few moments between when the old gloves are removed and the new ones are in place. She should never do something like that with all these people everywhere, but... well, one thing she is learning about Sol City is that, at least in a crowd like this, people seem to be inclined toward having their own business to mind. In a smaller town like Lilicors, Beak would draw attention just for looking like a bizarre old woman with a skull mask. Here, one could be stark naked and singing sea shanties while juggling pins that are on fire, so long as they get out of the way and don't obstruct people trying to get to where they're going. That seems to be the big problem causing all the discontent in this current crowd. People are too agitated over the gridlock to even notice, let alone care about the openly skeletal Blackfeather hatchlings, let alone if Beak let her hands be seen for a few moments.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 16, 2024 17:44:42 GMT -5
The Blackfeathers watch carefully as Beak dons the gloves. They fit perfectly, carefully padded to help with Beak’s disguise, with one glove bearing strips of cold iron along the backs of the first segment of each finger. Once Beak has both gloves on Loci and Bones grab onto her hands once more, chirping happily as their father chuckles, “...it wasn’t too hard t’ guess, not with how instinctive your fear o’ bein’ discovered has been…it helps that we’ve got our own beef with the fae, so there’s a certain impetus t’ makin’ cold iron weapons…” the specter gently hugs the elder skeleton for a moment before pulling back to let the children swarm around Beak once more, the little crows trilling happily as they press up against the taller skeleton’s sides.
Rena smiles softly, watching her children interact with Beak, then shivering and letting out a soft chirp as Nev scoops her into their arms, both crow and raven letting out gentle purrs as she nestles into their grasp, her silver eyes shining with affection as she gently nuzzles into the wraith’s feathers with a happy coo.
Nev, for their part, gently nuzzles her, nibbling at her feathers and smiling as they chirp and trill affectionately, their wings mantling protectively about their family as a contented purr swells from their chest…
...and then the little family is reminded of their surroundings when the driver of the cart behind them directs an expletive their way, seemingly uncaring of the children.
Rena lets out an irritated hiss, wriggling free of Nev's arms and dropping to the ground, "...c'mon, let's find someplace less crowded..."
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Post by Beak on Jun 16, 2024 18:11:15 GMT -5
Beak nods, her "speech" a bit awkward and sheepish-sounding. "Ah... that obvious is it? I... attitudes toward the undead were less... permissive in my day, and I haven't interacted with society much upon reawakening for that very reason. I may still have some old precautions I've yet to unlearn... oh!"
She winces and quickly steps to one side in response to the driver's threat. The Blackfeathers already knew that Beak is much more quick, agile, and nimble on her feet than the "old woman" act would imply, but the revelation that she's so jumpy and easily startled might be new for them.
The way she scurries out of the driver's way while Loci and Bones are holding her hands almost looks like a parent leading their children out of harm's way, but it's either pure coincidence or--if one party is leading the other--it was likely the other way around. The skelechicks, as Beak calls them, are streetwise enough to make Beak look like their mutual friend Marion, and Beak's had to live in the shadows and margins of society for the past fifty years... or she thought she has, anyway.
"Agreed... far too crowded, far too noisy. Can hardly hear myself think." Fortunately, the version of the Message spell she uses for her telepathic communication places her thoughts directly into the recipients' minds, meaning there's no chance of her words being drowned out or going unheard in a noisy square. Whether she can hear them in return is another matter. Technically, once she opens up a channel with Message, those she "speaks" to can reply via that same channel even without any telepathic training of their own... but very few people she's "spoken" with have ever used that ability. Most aren't even aware of it. Besides, even if they were all on the same mental wavelength, this much noise and chaos is likely to disrupt her concentration and therefore the signal, anyway.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 16, 2024 20:11:02 GMT -5
Loci and Bones happily lead Beak away from the traffic, the little skeletons chirping softly as they ignore the shouts of the cart and carriage drivers and lead their Skelefriend off toward a nearby cafe, “cannae believe y’ got Mom, Dad an’ Bab’sk t’ agree t’ take ye to the Valley,” the emerald eyed skelechick trills quietly, “...Mom ‘n Dad don’ really talk about it…’n Bab’sk doesnae talk ‘bout much other’n the Archives or their old village when we ask…” then Loci makes a noise of amusement, “...that or they all jus’ gush about eachother,” Bones trills happily as her elder brother continues, “-on an’ on ‘bout how perfect the other two are, ye’d think they’re freshly bonded t’ eachother,” the emerald eyed skeleton chuckles fondly - then jolts as his father places a gentle hand on his shoulder, Bell chuckling himself before speaking, “...well, can ye blame us? We spent years separated against our wills. Stars, it rather feels like the months after our Bonding…”
Rena, for her part, snickers as she hugs Whistle and Gears, nuzzling each for a moment before releasing them, at which point the living chicks dart forward to hold hands with their respective twins, smiling both at their siblings and up at Beak as they chirp happily.
The people in the cafe stare at Beak and the Blackfeathers for a long moment before scrambling back to their prior business in a desperate bid to not attract any ire as the family guides Beak to a table, “I’m hopin’ ye’ve a sense o’ smell, at least,” Rena murmurs just loud enough for Beak to hear, “I’d be a bit surprised if’n ye did, given that the wee ones only have smell an’ taste due t’ the way I went about raisin’ ‘em, an’ that’s…not what happened t’ ye, suffice t’ say”
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Post by Beak on Jun 17, 2024 0:10:10 GMT -5
Beak gives the equivalent of a wry, somewhat sad smile as she looks at Loci. "Your... Bab'sk?" She's not entirely sure what that word means, but she can guess from context. "... Your Bab'sk has been lost, forgotten, and alone for years... much as I was. I can understand feeling the need to make up for lost time."
The bittersweet weariness in her voice doesn't seem to lessen when addressing Rena. On the contrary, she's merely moving from one wistful topic to another. "Alas, my dear, I cannot. I thank you for the offer, though." She ponders the crow's words, her head tilting, before a few points jump out at her. "I cannot say whether the process by which I was raised is the same as the one which raised your young, because... in truth, I don't know the process by which I was raised. All I remember was... taking a mortal wound in battle, everything fading... I slept. It felt exactly like falling asleep, then waking up the next morning... except that the next morning was thousands of years later. And... if there were any necromancers about, or anyone who raised me, then I didn't see them, nor did anyone attempt to contact me to give me orders or explain my predicament. I just... woke up, and was alone."
She shakes her head. "I assume the same cannot be said of your chicks, but... forgive me, how exactly were yours raised? If it's not too personal a topic, of course...."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 17, 2024 1:20:02 GMT -5
Rena tilts her head, a frown ruffling the feathers around her beak as she considers the question, “...it’s…a bit complicated, but…the simplest answer is that once my Curse has accumulated sufficient spare power, I sort of…channel and weave it, first to form the bones, then to form a connection between the soul in the egg and the shell of bones so the little one can puppet the skeleton…there’s a bit more to it - hooking up the senses, cementing the binding between the soul and the puppet…” the silver eyed crow trills softly, idly ordering some tea for herself and her family before turning her attention back to the table…
Wind tilts her head a little, then whistles to her twin, who starts a little, Wind’s golden eyes flicking from Wind to Beak before the living chick sighs, “...eh, ‘s your call. An’ she did like the carving…” Wind giggles softly, “...jus’ wanted t’ keep from startlin’ ye too bad…” before blepping her tongue out in concentration, the unnatural darkness between her bones seeming to congeal like ink…and then she spits a fist sized, brown spotted, blue egg into her hands before presenting it to Beak with no small amount of pride, “look! It’s me!” …the egg looks cold, coated in a thin layer of frost and steaming slightly in the warm air…
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Post by Beak on Jun 17, 2024 1:53:31 GMT -5
"Ah! So they're...."
Just as Beak was struggling with how she would word the observation, Wind answered the question before she could ask it with the display of her egg.
It's... her. That egg is her.
"I've never seen magic like that before," she admits. "It's... I don't know how my own raising happened, as stated. But I know it wasn't that." She has so many questions, but the vast majority of them she can answer herself by just thinking about it for a moment before Messaging every silly thought the instant it pops into her own head. The skeletons are puppets, the souls reside in the eggs, and yet the skeletons still... feel? Beak, don't be stupid; they've been far too cuddly the entire time she's known them for that to be some sort of unfeeling puppeteering proxy, and Rena literally just said something about hooking up their senses.
After a few moments of silence, she finally asks the one question raised by the display that she can't answer just by giving herself long enough to make the connections herself. "Is that egg... magically frozen? Even if it was frozen long enough to cost you your life, the remains should have thawed eventually in an environment like this...."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 17, 2024 2:29:13 GMT -5
Wind tilts her head slightly, rose gold eye lights blinking a couple times as she considers the question before - “...it is. All three of them are,” her mother lets out a mournful trill, “...if’n I hadn’t lost myself t’ my Curse, it’d never ‘ave happened…I’m glad I figured out the trick to getting them back, but…I wish we didn’t need it…wish none of my children had to live with the ice of Fimbulwinter riddling their souls…” Rena shudders a little, silver eye lights dulling to gray as she murmurs, “...wish none of them had to go through this…”
The chicks let out chirps of alarm, immediately swarming their mother and pressing close, nibbling at her feathers as they let out comforting coos.
“...’s okay, Mom…” Loci murmurs, nuzzling his mother as he trills softly, “...y’don’ have t’ keep beatin’ yourself up about this…’s fine, we’re fine. We’re strong. An’ I know that Hum is in their frozen egg, waitin’ patiently t’ meet the rest o’ us…that’s how me an’ Wind were, even as hellish as it is between freezin’ an’ gettin’ hooked into the shells ye made for us…n’ Chime is asleep, we know that much. So stop beatin’ yourself up about it…please”
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Post by Beak on Jun 17, 2024 2:42:33 GMT -5
Beak thinks back to the first time she met the Blackfeather family. She was having a near-total breakdown over all she'd lost... the Ibekki, her very purpose.... and Loci was there with that same kind of tone, that same kind of reassuring speech that somehow was exactly what she needed to hear. That kid... that kid has more wisdom than she's seen in many adults. It feels unfair to place such burdens on a child... for it to be up to Loci to pick up people like Beak and Rena when they fall, rather than the other way around. But Loci is just so realms-damned good at it....
"I... am sorry," she eventually answers after that contemplation. "It... you needn't say more if the topic is too painful. I didn't mean to pry into anything hurtful." She thinks about it, then adds, "I'm always here for you if there's ever anything you want to get off your chest... stars know I was so much of a mess when you found me, and I probably still am, that you've had to sort through more than enough of my heartbreak at this point. It's only fair I return the favor." A positive-mood telepathic signal, something like another smile, but... this one's warmer. More sincere. Not the playful mischievous skeleton grin or even the wry world-weary smile of an old woman who's seen too much, but... compassion. Affection. "But you never have to. Far be it from me to pressure you."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jun 17, 2024 3:44:45 GMT -5
“...no, ‘s fine…” Rena chirps softly, smiling at her eldest son, “...thank you, Loci…and…I’m sorry ye have t’do this for me…”
“‘S fine, Mom,” Loci smiles back, chirping happily as he and his siblings return to their seats, the children settling back in and beginning to chirp and trill amongst themselves…
…Nev tilts their head slightly, then smiles softly, briefly extending a wing to pluck an inky flight feather…Rena and Bell blink, then share a glance and nod, each carefully plucking a feather of their own from their plumage, before Nev and Bell hand Rena their chosen feathers for Rena to carefully twine into…a ring?
By this point the children have paused in their conversation of chirps and trills, eyes wide and eye lights bright as they watch…
…Rena carefully examines the feather ring for a moment, then nods and offers it to Beak, “...we’ve already told ye this, I think, but we want you to know…you’re welcome among us for as long as ye wish to be” she smiles softly, letting out a quiet, affectionate chirp as Nev and Bell let out chirps of their own.
The children, for their part, look between their parents and Beak, again and again, eyes and eye lights a little wide...
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