[Flashback] Funeral Rites (Solicah)

[Ronan]

Time moved at a jolt as the cairn grew and grew, that great stone sentinel of sadness and death rising from the earth. And the dancing continued. Even as the Sun fell beneath the Grasses, and the moon bathed them all in a pale, ethereal light.

Ronan moved with the music, inspired by the Moondirge boy who did not seem to tire. And the Priestess sang, great wailing dirges of nature, of the Web, of the great moving tapestry that the Drykas seemed to walk.

Forever. Forever. Our spirits remain forever.

To the earth, to the soil, to the land we walk, in Semele's embrace, entwined in the Web of life.

Let their spirits walk free. Let them roam the great Sea.

The hours had been kinder to Ronan. The tears had dried up. A self absorbed rage having transitioned to memories of happier times and halcyon days. He would not forget, never, but today was one to remember. And he didn't want to taint this memory like so many others.

[Solicah]

oocBeautiful.

As the night stretched ever longer, members of the gathering began to depart. The numbers dwindled from over a dozen, to a half dozen, then down to just the persistence Moondirges and the orphaned boy. Their songs grew slower again, releasing with ease the tension and intensity of the Rite's peak. And, in response Solicah's body began to relax. And, not yet having the endurance and discipline it took to perform the demanding rite, his fatigue began to take the better of him. Vivid aches tore through his body, and he felt as if he might collapse. His side burned with a stabbing pain, and his lungs felt stripped of skin.

The Priestess had been watching him the entire time as she let loose her ballads. She held pride for the young man, for that night he finally saw what it meant to be a Moondirge. To put forth all of one's self to honorate the gifts that their ancestors and the gods had bestowed upon them. And, to focus that energy farther than one's else, to sing out to the world, to touch the hearts of those that had lost, and guide them to acceptance, and away from denial.

She knew Solicah would would be miserable the next several days, drained and in aching pain as his muscles worked to compensate for the night's exertion. She would tell him to pace himself the next time, that he was foolish to push himself so hard, but she still let him go. There were many lesson's to be learned in the world, and not all of them could be taught in a single night.

The flutist presented a mystical lulling melody as the ritual came to a close, and as if commanded by the sound Solicah's small body dropped to it's knees. He looked up to Ronan, and gave a distant and dreamlike smile before finally letting go of his hand and laying down right there before the monument, falling immediately to sleep.

The cairn had already been fastened securely to the web, and the deed was all but done. The man who built the Cairn collected to basin, and splashed what little was left of the water out into the grasses, then receded with the singers and flutist back toward their tents to clean up and rest for the next day's journey home. The Priestess walked forward and scooped the eight year old child up, managing his limp body with some talent.

Her voice still pristine and strong she looked Ronan in the eyes. Her face did not hold a smile, as Solicah's did, but a deep wizened expression. She looked to Ronan as a man, as if he had undergone some morose coming of age that night, and emerged as a different person. And in fact she saw a different person before her. He would need some time to see what she saw in him, but she saw. She saw...

[Ronan]

The dancing and music faded, and the boy finally let go of Ronan's hand. Ronan became still, still like the night, and began to calm his breathing. A thin sheen of cool sweat coated his forehead.

He felt like something had changed inside him. A lever had clicked. A gear had turned. Something had happened amongst that dancing, something wistful, and probably something he would never quite grasp.

But they were gone. Unfairly torn from this world, but they were gone. The Web Mage's had ensured the Cairn was tied to the sacred Drykas lines. Ronan had never been taught Webbing, because his father had never had the chance. He wished he could see those lines, the great connections that flitted between every waking spirit.

Perhaps if he had seen them, he would have felt at comfort. But his soul darkened, and over the coming days, it would darken still.

As the Priestess carried the boy away, she caught his vision. She stared into his eyes, transfixed for a moment. She had seen something. In the depths of his soul, she had seen something immeasurable.

When she turned back round, Ronan shuddered. Cold in the moon's light.

[Lariat]

Ronan Windsong

Experience:

Dancing: 2 xp

Lores:

Funerary rites of the drykas
The basics of dancing

Solicah

Experience:

Dancing: 2 xp

Lores:

Funerary rites of the drykas
The basics of dancing

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