In the Hands of the Goddess...

[Cayenne]

Time Stamp: Winter, 508 AV (Flashback)
(Closed - Glaewyrr only)

In the dark room, Glaewyrr was nudged to wakefulness by one of the dogs; a true mutt with Caiyha only knew what in his background… He was a tough, rangy beast with a heavily scarred muzzle that was the result of tangling with an arapaida, one of the nasty, massive fish with unending stomachs that lived in the Kandukta Basin. But the beast was a lucky one – it had lived, though her aunt had thought it might have been a mercy to end its misery – good, loyal dog, after all. But they’d had the dubious pleasure of landing the monster fish, forcing it out of the Basin. The thing twice as long as her aunt Koa was tall, but arapaida was good eating… they had eaten some and traded the rest of it. There was a lot of meat on those fish, after all, and there were always plenty of hungry stomachs that enjoyed it. But old Scar, as her little cousin called the beast, was nosing her awake now.

Today was the day.

Today was the day.

In the darkened room where the children slept, her little cousins were still sleeping. The winter weather was warm, and the fragrant jungle air was drifting through the open ledges, lined with a myriad of skulls, that served as windows. The sun had yet to rise, but her aunt was standing in the doorway, already dressed in leather and linen, tall and proud and indomitable. “Glaewyrr, time to get ready. Get washed and dressed,” Koa was brisk but quiet. The other children would be up soon enough – the brilliantly coloured parrots and other jungle birds would be waking in the trees, soon, and sending their flock calls throughout the city, and leading to a morning clamour that meant the beginning of the usual chaotic struggle of activity that was life in Taloba. Scrambling children, trumpeting Tskannas, roaring Tigers, screaming parrots... all came out to greet Syna in all of her brilliant glory once she graced the skies.

Scar trotted out of the sleeping area after Koa, then, leaving Glaewyrr to tend to her bedroll and get herself ready. Many of the adults of the household were already waiting in beyond the linen curtains covering the doorway between the rooms of the long structure that served as the family's home. A number of her aunts and uncles, her grandparents, and Ansi, the Crone, were sipping juice or a mixture of cocoa and spice from clay cups as fresh maza tortillas cooked at the hearth, piles of them warming already – in preparation for breakfast, and for the meal of the night. There would be a celebration, one way or another. It would be in either triumph or memorial, as was the Myrian way. Two of her slightly older cousins, Tersa and Mari, twin girls, were working in tandem, one on a mixture of fruit and vegetables and beans, a blend of red and orange and green, all of which was being stirred and spiced, and the other was working on deftly shaving a side of smoked meat. They had already been through their trial. Her father Ekk was among those adults gathered of the Patient Shadows, and he nodded in greeting at her, grinning encouragingly. “Are you ready?” his eyes searched those of his pale daughter’s. It was a big day for him as well, after all – it wasn’t every day that one’s daughter became an adult.

After a quick meal, Glaewyrr knew from hearing this from her relatives, they would be going to the temple, where the trials would begin. That was the easy part. This was the big day – Gods willing, everything she had been working so hard for could be realized. It could also end in a spectacular failure. Nothing ventured... nothing gained.

[Glaewyrr]

Glaewyrr had had trouble falling asleep the night before. The growing knot of anticipation had strangled the fatigue right out of her and she had laid awake for hours; listening to the measured breathing of her resting family beside her. So, evidently, Scar’s cold, wet nose pressing against her cheek was enough to rouse her from her feeble slumber. It had been a light and dreamless sleep, and that brought her no comfort. Glaewyrr had been hoping for a sign; an apparition, vision, anything really, to encourage her of victory.

She pressed her face briefly to the side of Scar’s ruined maw and found some comfort in his presence. Glae let the memory of the arapaida distract her. In that case, the underdog had succeeded.

Koa’s voice surprised her, though she knew it should not have, she jumped slightly. “Alright,” she whispered, not wishing to disturb the younger ones still sleeping.

Glaewyrr patted Scar goodbye as he followed her aunt outside. Instead of immediately rising and getting to hand she wandered around and observed the early-morning activities of her family, for perhaps, the last time. The bitterness of that thought soured her mood so strongly; she had trouble smiling at her father when he questioned her.

“I think so. Is it okay to be nervous? I mean, everyone always seems so confident. And well, you know, I’m not fully Myrian,” She spoke the last sentence quietly, as if she could deny its truth by the soft level of her voice.

Glaewyrr didn’t think that her half-blood status denounced her as a person, but maybe as a fighter.

Despite her desire to eat slowly and savor her time with her father, her meal was gone before she knew it and the dark apprehension once again fluttered into her soul. She quickly returned to her bed roll and folded it up before shoving it out of the way.

When that was done, she viewed her collection of weapons, all bought by her father’s coin specifically for this day. As Glaewyrr looked at them now she had an epiphany of sorts. She would do this with her old weapons; a set of three knives. The biggest stretched from her wrist to her elbow in length, practically a short sword, the second and third were the same size; about a hand.

I could die today.

But I wont, she reinforced; Scar had survived his ordeal, and so will I.

Glaewyrr stepped outside to join her aunt.

[Cayenne]

"It is," her father nodded. "But do not let that nervousness take root here," he tapped his forehead. "Because then you end up second-guessing yourself, and every heartbeat you hesitate is a heartbeat you give them to beat you," he held out one of the clay cups of juice towards her. "Drink. You'll need this and your strength. The trials will not be adjusted for you - you will take the test that every Myrian faces for the right to be considered a Myrian adult." Ekk smiled grimly. Half-blooded daughter or not, if she passed this test, she deserved the right to be called a Myrian, and to be accepted. There were some Myrian children who failed to pass the trials, for some reason or another. Usually a premature death during them was the cause. Sometimes they died at the last stage.

That was the way it went.

There was very little small talk made around the breakfast table, even as more of the family awoke to the flock calls of the jungle birds, the roaring of the tigers, and the trumpeting of the tskannas. Some of her younger cousins were coming from the sleeping area to crowd around her to touch her, to tell her to fight hard, and that they were praying to the Goddess-Queen for her. Others outside of the family may have looked down on her - she even got that feeling from some of her aunts and uncles - but some of the little ones either didn't understand or didn't care. She lived with them, and she was their uncle Ekk's daughter. Even if she stood out among them like a sore thumb. But sometimes, Koa had remonstrated the children, sometimes the Myrian tigers produced a pale cub... but it was still one of the tigers. It may have stood out, but it was still a tiger. Of course, the logic didn't entirely apply to Glaewyrr's situation... but still. If she passed the trials, then it would... mixed blood or not.

Koa had a look over Glaewyrr's weapons, and nodded with satisfaction. The girl kept them in good condition. There was nothing as useless as a dull knife or an unstrung bow. Now it was time for Ansi, Viri, Koa and Ekk's mother, Koa, Ekk, Koa's mate Mezu, and Glaewyrr to leave. Aunts and uncles nodded at her, wishing her well, and perhaps even good luck, some of them offering firm touches of encouragement in tight hugs, clenched hands, or pats. They couldn't well wish her luck outright today. Each and every one of them felt that there was no luck involved in this - this was all about skill and ability. Not even the final test was about luck. This was the culmination of everything she had been taught. And before the watchful gaze of their Goddess-Queen, she would pass or she would die. There was no in-between. There was no attempting.

The first stop would be to go to the temple, to invoke the gods and ask them to watch out for her. That was where it would all began - with a sacrifice of blood and death. Ansi went first, as the Crone of the Patient Shadows. She was heavily scarred and tattooed, wearing a linen dress with colourful stitching, little beads, and feathers. Her hair, which, despite her age still held plenty of black in it, was tied in a top knot. Despite her age, she set up a sturdy pace - Glaewyrr had received more than one whack with the staff she stumped around with, but so had many of the children, Patient Shadows and other families alike. And it wasn't unusual to see Ansi and her eldest surviving daughter Viri sparring it out, staff against axe, when the sun had gone down and chores were done. Viri was the mother of Koa, Ekk, and their four siblings, which made her Glaewyrr's grandmother. She walked with Ansi, leaving Ekk and Glaewyrr with Koa and Mezu. Koa and Mezu came, in this instance, because Koa had raised Glaewyrr like one of her own daughters, and Mezu because of his place as Koa's mate and for his role in helping raise Glaewyrr.

They made their way through the streets of Taloba, and it was all too soon before the great stone steps of the temple were before her. Ansi stood in front of Glaewyrr, inspecting her one last time before they went up the stairs, looking over her clothing, her weapons, and the girl herself, before tilting her chin up. "The blood of my blood flows through your veins. Remember that. Be strong. Be proud." With that, Ansi started up the steps, and Viri gave Glaewyrr a nudge for the girl to follow her. This was her day. Her father, aunt, uncle, and grandmother followed her up the grey steps.She could smell the sweet, sticky scent of fresh blood from the base of the steps, and the smell only got stronger as she went up the stairs.

Waiting at the top for them were two of the members of the Council of Nine: Bina of the Red Orchid, the High Priestess, and Szarri of the Slitted Throat, the Oracle. Bina was young, but imposing, her face streaked with a mixture of blood and plants and paint and dye, her long dark hair braided with shells and teeth and bone and fangs. Her robe looked like she had been struck by a tiger, with deep, ragged slits through it showing the tattoo of a blossoming, blood-red orchid, gleaming against her skin over her heart. On her head rested a large crocodile skull, the upper jaw extending down over her forehead like a visor, the wicked teeth protruding ominously as she looked at Glaewyrr, a slight smile on her face. Szarri was older, but no less fearsome than the High Priestess. A blackened tattoo seemed to slice the skin of her neck, imitating the slitted throat for which her family clan was named. Her reddish hair was in one long braid, and the last half of it looked like it had been dipped in blood. One of her eyes was almost amber, a rare colour amongst the Myrians, and the other one hazel. She carried with her a slender, but gnarled shepherd's crook in one hand, and built under the crook was a multifaceted dark stone that seemed to capture the sunlight and cast it again against the walls.

Around these two women lay the interior of the great temple. It was open, airy, and clean with high ceilings, with row upon row of skulls, animal and otherwise, lining the temple walls. Flowers, trinkets, offerings, even old weapons, rested on altars made of of bones to the sides. Near the middle of the main room on a raised platform stood a large, carefully carved statue of their Goddess-Queen in full regalia of leather and bone, wielding the mighty Ash'dene, the battle glaive of the Dead Queen, a gift from Dira; a lovingly-carved, massive stone tiger on each side of her, their great maws revealing enormous fangs. Before the statue rested a large, ceremonial altar, made of stone, its sides decorated with intricate patterns of bone. She was here, now, to pay her respects to the gods, and to ask them for their guidance and favour - today and onwards. Sacrifices would be made, and blood would be spilled. She could perhaps find comfort in the fact that not all of it would be hers.

It was beside this altar that Bina and Szarri waited, one on either side. The High Priestess spoke, finally, now that Glaewyrr stood before her. Her voice was low and almost dangerous, someone who was used to speaking softly because others listened when she did - she did not speak up for their benefit. "State your name."

[Glaewyrr]

Glaewyrr smiled at her father and nodded, “I wont,” she promises. She finished her drink in a few more gulps before rising silently. In the background she heard the noise of the jungle continuing on like always. The sounds gave her courage; reminded her that no matter the outcome of the day’s trials, at least the jungle would remain unchanged.

When her younger cousins began to collect around her, offering comfort, Glaewyrr felt a swell of tenderness she hadn’t know she could feel so deeply. She bent, brushing chaste kisses to their foreheads and cheeks and promising it wouldn’t be long until they were coming of age. As some of her aunts and uncles approached her, she hugged the ones that embraced her tightly and whisper thanks in their ears.

After going outside with her father, she was briefly tempted to take his hand. If she’d been any younger and less proud, she probably would have. Upon meeting up with Ansi and Viri, she gave both her brightest, confident smile. And she was starting to feel confident. Not overly so, but secure with her abilities. She could do this.

The temple looked sacred and heavy, and when the approached the stairs and Ansi said to her, “The blood of my blood flows through your veins. Remember that. Be strong. Be proud." After that, the temple was a building, it did not frighten her. Ansi’s blood was in her blood.

The woman on the inside of the temple, however, did strike unease in Glaewyrr. The intricate costumes and painted blood were enough to turn the human half of her blood cold. Ansi’s blood, she reminded herself.

At the alter when the High Priestess spoke, Glaewyrr had to pause. She needed to make sure there would be no quake in her voice.

“I am Glaewyrr of the Patient Shadows.”

[Cayenne]

Bina looked over the pale teenager, with her red hair. She was a half-blood, strong, true Myrian tainted by the blood of humans. There was no pity there, there was no sympathy to be found or had. She belonged to Cassa's family, anyway, Ansi's elder sister, and one of the Crones who sat on the Council of Nine. And because of her duties, her sister, Ansi, primarily looked to leading the family... taking the title of Crone as well as her sister. She nodded only slightly once Glaewyrr mustered the courage to speak to identify herself.

Bina looked at those gathered, including all who stood back with a sweep of her eyes. "Who speaks for Glaewyrr?" the priestess's voice was clearly heard, low and soft and dangerous. Her family name was particularly absent from the priestess's query - for as far as she was concerned, Glaewyrr had yet to earn the right to call herself a member of the clan. That was one of the many things on the line today, and something of a stigma for Myrians of mixed lineage. Family was important. Not because any one clan was greater than another... but because of the Myrian blood and the right to belong.

"I am Ansi, Crone of the Patient Shadows," the bang that came from the bottom of Ansi's heavy staff was almost deafening as it hit the stone floor of the temple, as if to announce their intentions to the gods themselves, and ask them for their attention in the proceedings. "Daughter of Crea. I speak for Glaewyrr, my great-granddaughter." Her announcement was greeted with a nod of acknowledgment from the priestess. Her voice was heard - invoking Ansi's family name and pride in support of her grandson's only daughter. But Ansi had faith in her - else she would not have spoken.

"I am Cassa, Crone of the Patient Shadows and Priestess of Myri and Caiyha, Daughter of Crea. I, too, speak for my great-grandniece," another old voice echoed Ansi's. Her great-grandmother's sister, Cassa, was one of the Crones who sat on the Council... not that it afforded her family any special privileges. unlike Ansi, she wore the robes of a priestess, with her own fearsome adornments in hair that had gone white with age, only to be streaked with blood. Wherever Cassa had come from, Myri only knew - but they were called the Patient Shadows for a reason. The others would speak for her - her father, her aunt and uncle, her grandmother. But the Crones, as representatives of the family, had done so, and that was all that was required. The sheer presence of the others was enough.

"Two Crones speak for Glaewyrr, daughter of Ekk, granddaughter of Viri of the Patient Shadows." Bina returned her gaze to Glarwyrr. "The coming of age trials will proceed. Step to the altar of our Goddess-Queen, Glaewyrr. Understand that there is no going back once you begin the trials. You will master them, tame them, or you will die in trying." She knew the risks. This was nothing new to her - she would succeed, or she would die.

The Oracle spoke up, then. "Your trials begin now, Glaewyrr, in the Temple. You are here to offer your sacrifices to the gods and goddesses, and ask for them to watch you and to guide you," she explained. "Cassa has provided a Jagara bull to be slaughtered for them. But you... you have your own sacrifices and prayers to make. To Goddess-Queen Myri. To Dira, Queen of the Dead. To Caiyha, the Great Mother. To Kihala, the Lifegiver. To Makutsi, the Rainbringer. To Syna, She Who Sees. To Leth, the Pale One. To Navre, He Who Roars," as she spoke, Szarri raised her arms, including the statues that lined the walls, each depicting the primary deities of the Myrians. "Take the knife on the altar, and make your sacrifices."