[Sorrow] The air is bitterly cold close to the edge of the frozen lake, and there's a sort of arctic stillness in the air. The frozen water reflects the frosted sky, and snow swirls like diamond dust even though there are no clouds near. Squeezed from the air itself by the frigid weather, wringing all the water vapor from the surroundings and sending skittering little squalls of paperthin flakes dancing through the air.
You can see the brights stars from here. The lights of the city are behind you, the dark lake opens ahead. There are few enough lights in the Caern proper at night. A fire in a trash barrell, some flickers of torches, or electric lights in the more solid of the abandoned buildings.
Sorrow was at the lake's edge when Adamidas found her, her tall frame shrounded in winter things, a hood over her pale hair, a thick winter coat, scarf, gloves - all of it - her boots crunching through the solid mixture of snow and ice crusting the flat pebbles of the sullen little beach.
"Hey," she said, lifting her chin toward the buildings. "I think there's a camp fire near the assembly area. Let's go there. Freezing out here."
---
And that is how we find them, in the dubious shelter of an old hanger, with enough of the roof missing to see the sky, warmed by the roar of a fire tended - it must be said - on both sides of the gauntlet.
[Adamidas] Lessons, as she has learned, should always begin at the beginning and end at the ending. The problem is, though, that Kora is speaking with a theurge. The beginning is the middle and the end and sometimes the end is just another excuse to talk about the middle and it's all muddled and mingled and confusing. She found Kora by the lake's edge, and by now they've ambled to a camp fire.
They sit. The Fury is bundled up, and she's nothing more than greys and blacks and whites and browns and neutral tones. In the umbra, Adam seems more like the idea of what a Fury should be than an actual Black Fury herself. She's been distant, recently. Expectation weighs heavily on her, but Kora knows all about that.
They're on the physical side, now, and she is no less than she had seemed earlier. The Fury sits down, and she warms up her hands by the fire.
"I should start at the beginning," she tells Kora, "you're a gibbous moon, so you're going to have to correct my story telling... My tribe is unity, and the strength we find in it. I feel like I need to get that out of the way... but... where would you like me to start? What are misconceptions I can clear up for you."
[Sorrow] Sorrow's winter things - the coat and scarf, the extra layers - concealed the early signs of her pregnancy. This is the coat she's worn all winter, and it is still large enough to accommodate her frame - but now the outline of her stomach is obvious beneath the nap of the wool, more so when she sits, as she does now, cross-legged on a rough-hewn bench she dragged close to the fire.
The heat is welcome, it casts their features in shifting layers of dancing shadows and changing light. The air is sharp with the scent of burning wood, the pop of pine sap as the wood burns.
"We all tell stories," she says quietly, lifting her chin away from the flames, settling her dark eyes on Adamidas. There's a subtle gesture of dismissal there, a twist of her generous mouth. A moment's irony. " - so I won't correct your story telling. But listen, there are - how many Black Furies in the world? I don't think it's helpful to make large statements. So make small ones - let's start with you.
"Why did you pick Pegasus? Why did Pegasus claim you?" A twist of her mouth, again, mobile, the spark of light dancing across her eyes. Then a twist of her mouth, a glance back. "How did you earn your name?" These questions are layered one on top of another, "I don't have - " any misconceptions, she comes close to saying, but pulls it back, shaking her pale head. With the heat from the fire she has tugged back her hood. "Trent was concerned that I would take our child away, to be raised by others. That he wouldn't have a say." A flicker of a glance, at Adamidas. "Is that what you do?"
[Adamidas] "Pegasus chose me," she says, "because I was worthy. And I chose Pegasus because that is who I am. Pegasus is a totem that insists upon protecting the helpless... and when I had first changed, I thought that was what I was. I didn't think that I was worthy and, if nothing else, my first change was an act of me crying out. An act of me saying that enough was enough, and that I was the one who was going to be in control. I wanted to provide that for someone else, and I wanted to teach people that there was a different way."
A moment passes.
"I'm a pack animal," she states, "which is weird... because right now? Right now, I don't have my sisters with me. I don't have them here with me in anything else other than spirit and in memories."
Kora might remember. She would remember spring, because it was approaching soon. It was shortly after her sisters had left her the first time, and that she had waited, and waited, and seemed insecure in what she was. She fended off the support and camraderie of others because... Adam had never said why.
"But that's beside the subject. Pegasus claimed me, because she saw a potential in myself that I hadn't seen yet. And a worthiness that I'm still learning- to me, I felt like my Rite of Passage was showing that I can learn and that I can be taught and that I can be strong enough for not just myself but for my sisters."
But how did she get her name?
She's quiet for a long moment. She looks at Kora, and the fire flickers.
"I'll get to that soon. I promise I'll get to my name soon... but it's a long, long, long story that deserves time and some respect... as for Trent's fear of losing your child, that's a possibility with all tribes, and a valid concern for not just former Fury kin, but for all kin... and depending on his sept, it might happen. We have to give up our trueborn males-" note that she says it like a requirement, like it's a sad fact "-but Black Furies do put an emphasis on family, and only the misguided fail to realize that depriving one of their family is a bad move."
[Sorrow] "I dreamed my ancestor's memories from the time I was an adolescent. A pre-adolescent. Read the Eddas, the old stories, yeah? The Aesir and the battle for the end of the world - and the world that comes after Ragnarok, the green one, new-made, un-broken, or maybe shattered so fully that it emerges anew from the blood mist of the final battle when we win."
They were meant to instruct each other, after all. So Sorrow listens, with that intensity, dark eyes fixed on Adamidas' features, her generous mouth curving upward at the right most corner once or twice. It's an exchange, so she continues, offering some shadow of her own experience, quiet, low-voiced.
"Didn't know what I was, though. My mother wanted nothing to do with the tribe. She moved us around an awful lot, yeah? I don't think she could face the idea that we might die like the Garou she'd known. Like my father, or - " a quick movement of her shoulders. "Well, you cannot outrun the Nation.
"I was in Edinburg when I changed. You'd think I'd've become Fianna, but I couldn't escape those dreams. That history in my blood. So from the moment I knew what I was - knew it in a way that wasn't insane, that is - I knew that I was Fenrir."
There's a brief, subtle curve of her mouth. "I never thought I'd be this, though." Jarl, she means. Alpha. "We follow the Modis. We follow strength; and we expect that from those both below and above us, unyielding. Longrunning, enduring." A moving look, direct. "Protecting the helpless isn't precisely on the battlecard for us."
Then, a quick gesture of negation. "Fenrir, family, blood. We wouldn't take children from our mates to give away unless they were unfit. I think he thought that a Fury would have, because she wouldn't imagine a man fit to raise a child. Is that true?"
[Adamidas] She's listening. She's paying such close attention that it seems almost strange, and it's intent and it's intense, and she doesn't look away. She doesn't want to turn away just yet. Instead, she is focusing. The stories, the Eddas, the Aesir. It all flies over her head for now.
When we win, Kora says. And Adam's eyes are alight. She listens when she hears her speak of her mother, of her travels to Europe, of her history. It's in her blood. It's what she is.
"There is a difference between helpless and weak. The helpless are, obviously, incapable of protecting themselves for various reasons. They are too young, they are compromised, they are outnumbered. The weak are weak of their own volition, because they are actively refusing to better themselves or actively avoiding bettering themselves. The weak are leaches, the helpless are allies waiting to happen.
"Again, only a misguided one. Some of the older members of the tribe may think this, but realistically Fury kin are our kin because they are strong and they are capable. A simpering, broken male can't protect our children and isn't worthy of fathering a future generation."
"I was given my name, because my sister Hera gave me that name," she starts.
"A Black Fury's Rite of Passage consists of three portions- a test of your judgment, to prove one's worth as an avenger; a test of vision, which is usually a spirit quest or a riddle, and ours was a pretty lengthy trek into the umbra to go track down some wounded epiphling; and a test of fury, which is a test to see if you own your rage and how you handle yourself. The purpose of it being structured this way is so that the elders know what we are strong in and what our weakenesses are.
"I went through my rite of passage with two other Furies- Hera, who was an ahroun; and Mary Martin, who was a philodox-" which sounds remarkably like the last pack she was with "-and during our test of vision, something went wrong... and, well, a lot of septs aren't a big fan of sending your cubs off into a situation where you could potentially die horribly, but... well... Gaia's Light didn't quite have qualms with that, and I don't fault her for it. If you are strong, then you will survive, and if you are weak then you won't.
"It wasn't that Hera was weak, not by a long shot... if anything, she was the only one of us that didn't have her head in the clouds or didn't spend her entire life on the brink of frenzy. You gotta understand, Mary was an angry girl, and I've lived my life so incredibly doped out of my head it's not even funny. I've been on aripiprazole, quetiapine, thiothixene, molidone, Haldol... the moments leading up to my change, my Foster parents thought I was losing my mind, because I was. Apparently, telling people you're hearing things and all you want to do is eat raw meat and you're starting fights when you're normally a nice little girl.
"But Hera died protecting us. Hera died giving us enough time to run away, because if we hadn't we would have died. And she died for us... but we didn't... run. We ran, but we ran, used the environment, and killed the corrupt spirit, and we killed it. and when we came back... we brought her body back, and the Master of Challenges told us that we had failed. And told Hera that she was sorry that her sacrifice had been for nothing.
"And Mary-" she laughs at this, it isn't a laughable offense "-frenzied. Lost her shit, and I remember shifting, and holding onto her, and getting torn to shit until she calmed down. And Gaia's Light pushed, and she pushed, and she tried, and I don't know if I was tired or worried or what... but I didn't frenzy, and she told us she'd lied and that we passed. And Hera named us."
She's quiet for a second... and it lingers.
"What was your Rite of Passage like?"
And... a little quieter... a little more... personal.
"What was your father like?"
You can see the brights stars from here. The lights of the city are behind you, the dark lake opens ahead. There are few enough lights in the Caern proper at night. A fire in a trash barrell, some flickers of torches, or electric lights in the more solid of the abandoned buildings.
Sorrow was at the lake's edge when Adamidas found her, her tall frame shrounded in winter things, a hood over her pale hair, a thick winter coat, scarf, gloves - all of it - her boots crunching through the solid mixture of snow and ice crusting the flat pebbles of the sullen little beach.
"Hey," she said, lifting her chin toward the buildings. "I think there's a camp fire near the assembly area. Let's go there. Freezing out here."
---
And that is how we find them, in the dubious shelter of an old hanger, with enough of the roof missing to see the sky, warmed by the roar of a fire tended - it must be said - on both sides of the gauntlet.
[Adamidas] Lessons, as she has learned, should always begin at the beginning and end at the ending. The problem is, though, that Kora is speaking with a theurge. The beginning is the middle and the end and sometimes the end is just another excuse to talk about the middle and it's all muddled and mingled and confusing. She found Kora by the lake's edge, and by now they've ambled to a camp fire.
They sit. The Fury is bundled up, and she's nothing more than greys and blacks and whites and browns and neutral tones. In the umbra, Adam seems more like the idea of what a Fury should be than an actual Black Fury herself. She's been distant, recently. Expectation weighs heavily on her, but Kora knows all about that.
They're on the physical side, now, and she is no less than she had seemed earlier. The Fury sits down, and she warms up her hands by the fire.
"I should start at the beginning," she tells Kora, "you're a gibbous moon, so you're going to have to correct my story telling... My tribe is unity, and the strength we find in it. I feel like I need to get that out of the way... but... where would you like me to start? What are misconceptions I can clear up for you."
[Sorrow] Sorrow's winter things - the coat and scarf, the extra layers - concealed the early signs of her pregnancy. This is the coat she's worn all winter, and it is still large enough to accommodate her frame - but now the outline of her stomach is obvious beneath the nap of the wool, more so when she sits, as she does now, cross-legged on a rough-hewn bench she dragged close to the fire.
The heat is welcome, it casts their features in shifting layers of dancing shadows and changing light. The air is sharp with the scent of burning wood, the pop of pine sap as the wood burns.
"We all tell stories," she says quietly, lifting her chin away from the flames, settling her dark eyes on Adamidas. There's a subtle gesture of dismissal there, a twist of her generous mouth. A moment's irony. " - so I won't correct your story telling. But listen, there are - how many Black Furies in the world? I don't think it's helpful to make large statements. So make small ones - let's start with you.
"Why did you pick Pegasus? Why did Pegasus claim you?" A twist of her mouth, again, mobile, the spark of light dancing across her eyes. Then a twist of her mouth, a glance back. "How did you earn your name?" These questions are layered one on top of another, "I don't have - " any misconceptions, she comes close to saying, but pulls it back, shaking her pale head. With the heat from the fire she has tugged back her hood. "Trent was concerned that I would take our child away, to be raised by others. That he wouldn't have a say." A flicker of a glance, at Adamidas. "Is that what you do?"
[Adamidas] "Pegasus chose me," she says, "because I was worthy. And I chose Pegasus because that is who I am. Pegasus is a totem that insists upon protecting the helpless... and when I had first changed, I thought that was what I was. I didn't think that I was worthy and, if nothing else, my first change was an act of me crying out. An act of me saying that enough was enough, and that I was the one who was going to be in control. I wanted to provide that for someone else, and I wanted to teach people that there was a different way."
A moment passes.
"I'm a pack animal," she states, "which is weird... because right now? Right now, I don't have my sisters with me. I don't have them here with me in anything else other than spirit and in memories."
Kora might remember. She would remember spring, because it was approaching soon. It was shortly after her sisters had left her the first time, and that she had waited, and waited, and seemed insecure in what she was. She fended off the support and camraderie of others because... Adam had never said why.
"But that's beside the subject. Pegasus claimed me, because she saw a potential in myself that I hadn't seen yet. And a worthiness that I'm still learning- to me, I felt like my Rite of Passage was showing that I can learn and that I can be taught and that I can be strong enough for not just myself but for my sisters."
But how did she get her name?
She's quiet for a long moment. She looks at Kora, and the fire flickers.
"I'll get to that soon. I promise I'll get to my name soon... but it's a long, long, long story that deserves time and some respect... as for Trent's fear of losing your child, that's a possibility with all tribes, and a valid concern for not just former Fury kin, but for all kin... and depending on his sept, it might happen. We have to give up our trueborn males-" note that she says it like a requirement, like it's a sad fact "-but Black Furies do put an emphasis on family, and only the misguided fail to realize that depriving one of their family is a bad move."
[Sorrow] "I dreamed my ancestor's memories from the time I was an adolescent. A pre-adolescent. Read the Eddas, the old stories, yeah? The Aesir and the battle for the end of the world - and the world that comes after Ragnarok, the green one, new-made, un-broken, or maybe shattered so fully that it emerges anew from the blood mist of the final battle when we win."
They were meant to instruct each other, after all. So Sorrow listens, with that intensity, dark eyes fixed on Adamidas' features, her generous mouth curving upward at the right most corner once or twice. It's an exchange, so she continues, offering some shadow of her own experience, quiet, low-voiced.
"Didn't know what I was, though. My mother wanted nothing to do with the tribe. She moved us around an awful lot, yeah? I don't think she could face the idea that we might die like the Garou she'd known. Like my father, or - " a quick movement of her shoulders. "Well, you cannot outrun the Nation.
"I was in Edinburg when I changed. You'd think I'd've become Fianna, but I couldn't escape those dreams. That history in my blood. So from the moment I knew what I was - knew it in a way that wasn't insane, that is - I knew that I was Fenrir."
There's a brief, subtle curve of her mouth. "I never thought I'd be this, though." Jarl, she means. Alpha. "We follow the Modis. We follow strength; and we expect that from those both below and above us, unyielding. Longrunning, enduring." A moving look, direct. "Protecting the helpless isn't precisely on the battlecard for us."
Then, a quick gesture of negation. "Fenrir, family, blood. We wouldn't take children from our mates to give away unless they were unfit. I think he thought that a Fury would have, because she wouldn't imagine a man fit to raise a child. Is that true?"
[Adamidas] She's listening. She's paying such close attention that it seems almost strange, and it's intent and it's intense, and she doesn't look away. She doesn't want to turn away just yet. Instead, she is focusing. The stories, the Eddas, the Aesir. It all flies over her head for now.
When we win, Kora says. And Adam's eyes are alight. She listens when she hears her speak of her mother, of her travels to Europe, of her history. It's in her blood. It's what she is.
"There is a difference between helpless and weak. The helpless are, obviously, incapable of protecting themselves for various reasons. They are too young, they are compromised, they are outnumbered. The weak are weak of their own volition, because they are actively refusing to better themselves or actively avoiding bettering themselves. The weak are leaches, the helpless are allies waiting to happen.
"Again, only a misguided one. Some of the older members of the tribe may think this, but realistically Fury kin are our kin because they are strong and they are capable. A simpering, broken male can't protect our children and isn't worthy of fathering a future generation."
"I was given my name, because my sister Hera gave me that name," she starts.
"A Black Fury's Rite of Passage consists of three portions- a test of your judgment, to prove one's worth as an avenger; a test of vision, which is usually a spirit quest or a riddle, and ours was a pretty lengthy trek into the umbra to go track down some wounded epiphling; and a test of fury, which is a test to see if you own your rage and how you handle yourself. The purpose of it being structured this way is so that the elders know what we are strong in and what our weakenesses are.
"I went through my rite of passage with two other Furies- Hera, who was an ahroun; and Mary Martin, who was a philodox-" which sounds remarkably like the last pack she was with "-and during our test of vision, something went wrong... and, well, a lot of septs aren't a big fan of sending your cubs off into a situation where you could potentially die horribly, but... well... Gaia's Light didn't quite have qualms with that, and I don't fault her for it. If you are strong, then you will survive, and if you are weak then you won't.
"It wasn't that Hera was weak, not by a long shot... if anything, she was the only one of us that didn't have her head in the clouds or didn't spend her entire life on the brink of frenzy. You gotta understand, Mary was an angry girl, and I've lived my life so incredibly doped out of my head it's not even funny. I've been on aripiprazole, quetiapine, thiothixene, molidone, Haldol... the moments leading up to my change, my Foster parents thought I was losing my mind, because I was. Apparently, telling people you're hearing things and all you want to do is eat raw meat and you're starting fights when you're normally a nice little girl.
"But Hera died protecting us. Hera died giving us enough time to run away, because if we hadn't we would have died. And she died for us... but we didn't... run. We ran, but we ran, used the environment, and killed the corrupt spirit, and we killed it. and when we came back... we brought her body back, and the Master of Challenges told us that we had failed. And told Hera that she was sorry that her sacrifice had been for nothing.
"And Mary-" she laughs at this, it isn't a laughable offense "-frenzied. Lost her shit, and I remember shifting, and holding onto her, and getting torn to shit until she calmed down. And Gaia's Light pushed, and she pushed, and she tried, and I don't know if I was tired or worried or what... but I didn't frenzy, and she told us she'd lied and that we passed. And Hera named us."
She's quiet for a second... and it lingers.
"What was your Rite of Passage like?"
And... a little quieter... a little more... personal.
"What was your father like?"
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