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+--- Thread: The Sunspire whale rib (/showthread.php?tid=65676)
whale rib - Kusax̱asaa - April 15, 2025
backdated to march 17th, just another travel thread for reference! @Meleeys @Daa'ka @Nutuyikruk @Cetseni @Yakona @Ts'okhun @Pikpaksriruk @Night Fire (@Sulukinak & @Other Shore mention as well for spar reasons!)
lanzadoii or muradoii alone was spoken by kusax̱asaa as their journey continued. he was often at the rear of their contingent, waving the others on ahead. when c'ede' was not with sivaak, he slung in carryskin from father's wounded shoulders, and it was to those tiny opening ears and eyes which his father whispered their lore and their hatred.
the saatsine were directed to walk in the icy streams and rivers until his own paws ached with the hurting cold. sun clan washed from moss and dirt, currents carrying to watery void their tracks, the bones of their kills, and their offal. to howl was not encouraged by the chieftain; he remained close to those who followed.
it tore at his heart to turn them from the caribou, to meander away from the herds to lofty precipice or stone recessings below clifflines.
brother's greenery treated him. kusax̱asaa had taken to identifying leaves as they went, wondering if he would be forced to become herb-healer to the sun clan all the same, for the ghost talker had disappeared.
perhaps it was as well. now only those who remained among the saatsine were truly caribou hunters, all except night fire. she kept his eye watchful.
camps were sporadic, watches shared.
at dawn, a stiff and aching kusax̱asaa murmured again that they would go on, around the foothills of a broad, great mountain, descending to flatlands glimpsed.
the saatsine were directed to walk in the icy streams and rivers until his own paws ached with the hurting cold. sun clan washed from moss and dirt, currents carrying to watery void their tracks, the bones of their kills, and their offal. to howl was not encouraged by the chieftain; he remained close to those who followed.
it tore at his heart to turn them from the caribou, to meander away from the herds to lofty precipice or stone recessings below clifflines.
brother's greenery treated him. kusax̱asaa had taken to identifying leaves as they went, wondering if he would be forced to become herb-healer to the sun clan all the same, for the ghost talker had disappeared.
perhaps it was as well. now only those who remained among the saatsine were truly caribou hunters, all except night fire. she kept his eye watchful.
camps were sporadic, watches shared.
at dawn, a stiff and aching kusax̱asaa murmured again that they would go on, around the foothills of a broad, great mountain, descending to flatlands glimpsed.
RE: whale rib - Daa'ka - April 15, 2025
the march is not slow. daa’ka lingers mostly within the back of the group, ready with fangs to fend off any assailants that might trail them.
but silence in the distance was a salve he didn’t know he needed. no one, to his eye or ear or nose, followed. and that was best; the lanzadoii spirit burned harsh in chest of the dark fang and he was at will to dole it out.
saying cautious words to sister and brother. reapplying the only salve he knew to make upon the many wounds of sun eater; often with brow slitted above darkening eyes, breathing hushed words of prayer.
and praying over the pale head of his nephew; future of the sun clan.
RE: whale rib - Sivaak - April 16, 2025
muradoii calves are at best useless worms. @Ts’okhun, @Yakona, @Cetseni — the ones who remain alive.
third daughter had been cast into the fire only hours earlier. choked while feeding at sivaak’s belly, and the muradoii queen took it as a sign. a terrible omen, one that spoke of death.
her teeth found the mewling child shortly. coating the fur of the remaining in splattered blood, including son of black scar who nursed greedily alongside her calves.
his resemblance to her own brood helped in her accepting him. perhaps she would not have taken to him kind otherwise.
she walks now with her pups slung within thick, old caribou hide that rode once upon the shoulders of sivaak’s own sire. coating them in the essence of him that remained, a comfort to the protective ursine mother, a balm to know her progeny swathed in his spirit.
and something hungry in her brings the snow-pelted blood-drinker to amble with muted, thudding steps behind the chieftain, who carries his own son, unwilling to let lanzadoii blood out of his sight. and it is warm to her own sight, that feasts hungrily. sivaak feels something maternal and bestial stir in response.
RE: whale rib - Yakona - April 16, 2025
One brother. One sister. What remains of Pikpaksriruk veiled upon their faces in bloodmasks. She tastes the dead sister in the very currents of air; effluent of rot exuding from the provider’s skin. And she nestles into it, her mouth tender and full as she takes in strands of mother’s metallic nape, suckling to self-soothe.
Yakona watches the adults. They rove, for this has always been their way. Searching, as Yakona will for Sivaak’s teat. But their thirst will not be sated and hunger only seems to grow.
Sister is dead, traded for another. The red-capped girl makes faces at C’ede’ as he rides Black Scar’s shoulders. Then she howls, throwing her voice fiercely into the cool air as the cavern of her body opens to the simplicity of her needs; as pretty as any parasite could be.
RE: whale rib - Ts'okhun - April 16, 2025
still a wobbly week-old, chewed on yakona's ear with what little strength his tiny jaws could muster. his tiny teeth nipped at the fur, more for the sensation of it than for any real intent to harm. his bright eyes, already holding an air of quiet observance, looked up at his sister, her sturdy presence so comforting to him. he clung to his mother's back, his little body unsteady as he shifted with her movements, but his grip was surprisingly firm.
the remnants of his siblings' lives haunted the den, a grim reminder of the harshness of their world. the warmth of the caribou hide wrapped around him was a strange comfort, as though the spirits of those before him whispered in the rustling of the fur. ts'okhun let out a soft sound, something between a growl and a whine, as if communicating the discomfort of this world, the tension that ran beneath the surface of his tiny, growing body.
he couldn't understand the weight of what had happened—his mother's grief, the omen of death, or the fierceness of his kin—but the sense of loss hung heavy around them all. and yet, he chewed on yakona's ear again, seeking some connection in the quiet, a momentary distraction from the weight of what had come before.
RE: whale rib - Nutuyikruk - April 16, 2025
Pelts weighed down her back. Lagging behind, she could see just barely ahead the children, smell their stench of caked blood and flesh rot.
It was once distrust that came from the eyes of Nutuyikruk, angry, unraveled by events that she'd lost control of. No longer. Now her eyes had been hollowed, limping through warmed days with saatsine luggage carried on her back or lodged between her teeth.
In a sea of strangers, she had learned to keep her eyes down and tongue tied. What remained of life became long stops for water, taking to isolated corners, and moving when they said move.
RE: whale rib - Cetseni - April 19, 2025
Sister's blood. Pipaksriruk, a memory to stain the bone white of her furs.
Some blood upon her lip, even, while she suckled next to her. Red eyes, cardinal eyes, they track the movements of the dread queen as she prunes from them the weakest, choked! The only warning is the low rumble of a snarl, and then it is over. A mercy, in one way.
There is no moment for childish innocence, no room for a lack of understanding—This language was one spoken clear, as raw as the earth beneath them. A reminder that the world was not built for the weak to inherit. That the cold would not show mercy, nor hunger, or the ache of pain. They would not show mercy. That was who they were. Who they had to become. Because she certainly would not.
Lest mother's teeth find a place in the soft flesh of her neck. Small hawk is young, but she bolsters a determination to survive.
Cetseni licked the blood from her lip, and returned to feed hungrily.
Whatever sisterly love might have been in the first weeks of their lives; all is forfeit. She was...
unworthy.