The Heartwood And will dead lips to speak?

Tagging @Dreven ^^

Held captive by the constant prise to hear the elder's words, the little brown creature hadn't been seen oft. Alduin had been the only to lay eyes upon her. But as for whom else had been invited within the heartwood — they were a mystery.

Calm the mind. Listen to what goes on. Guide the damned. Prepare your first sacrifice.

They spoke and whispered, guiding the spirit walker to do what bidding was required. The heartwood had only recently been found. Now it was time for the world to know that it belonged to them.

---

Early that morn, Khasni had traveled from the rather spacious cavern she had chosen to be her own. From there, she'd slipped from the veil and found a decent ground to capture what creature would send the message of their coming. The spirits were not easily persuaded by words. To know that their messenger had guided the proper souls, they would need a proper announcement.

It did not take long to come upon a frolicking hare. Too distracted, it was. Small, slithering, she leapt for it eagerly, sparing no moment to snap the neck with an easy tug.

Now back to the cavern she wandered with the sacrifice in tow. The little corpse would be lain to wait while the space was prepared. Dried leaves and old, dug up bones were placed carefully in a decently sized circle. From the hare, Khasni then pried the skeleton from the flesh and wool. All were centered within the circle, set separately from each other as proof of the critter's demise. Blood pooled where the remains no longer lay. Each forepaw was dipped within the sticky, warm substance. Some was dabbled upon her forehead. The sacrifice was hers, and thus, she must claim it so before the ritual could begin.

To the spirits she may now speak:

Take this offering,
a creature found and killed within the veil of the heartwood;
you have commanded it be so, thus I have provided.
See us here,
the damned knows his place,
the forsaken will come and know theirs too.
I speak now before you, to provide proof that your will has been done.
The heartwood is ours and none else will take it from our grasp.
Should this truth fail, I will be the next to take the place of this sacrifice.
Let it be heard ... let it be known.


Head bowed in solemn gesture, each piece of the ritual remained where she had laid it. Khasni did not move, seated sternly like a statue. Here she would stay for many moments to pass.

It was with precise steps Dreven walked through the new domain. His loyalties lay with one and only one for as long as he felt fit to follow. Though, he couldn't stop the curiosity to learn the boundaries as he walked.

A strange chanting piqued his interest and with broad body, russet paws and red eyes he searched. Gazed. Always searching. Until his gaze fell upon a tiny thing. Bathed in blood of prey, still as a statue.

He was not unused to sacrifice, yhe man who had offered his seed to bear Dreven, the man gave him a name like his mother. He had often sacrificed younglings and elderly or those he felt too, for the gods and goddesses the queen felt fit to follow that day.

He didn't move, simply stared. This was somwtimes a sacred thing and he didnt wish to upset a god. Though it was clear at this point they hated him.

Intent to interrupt the silence, heavy steps echoed through the corridor. They paused eventually, quiet and still. Someone had listened, continuing to watch all the while.

A crooning hum escaped the wolf's throat. Slowly, her head turned, taking in they who had approached her without an invitation. A brute, tall and dark with similar patterns of her own fleece. Glittering red eyes sat still to take in their surroundings. They were curious, no doubt.

You have found yourself within my hollow. Why is it that you come? Sharp, scornful words, accompanied by a barren facade. Khasni was not a fan of interruptions, thus her tone bore the evidence of her now sour mood.

Most would not come unless summoned. But why this one? What of her words or behavior drew them near? They would not be allowed to leave without these queries being answered.

As always when given a question a smirk tugged at his maw. His eyes alighted on the she wolf and towards her ritual items. He categorized and figured out. Not wolf babe or oldling, no it was the hopping hares that slid and leaped through the tall grasses if he wasn't mistaken.

Clearly she was not pleased, but he found he honestly didn't care. Time for caring was past. Though she had asked an honest question, without a claw to his face or teeth to his nape so he spoke. Voice a deep rumble in the small space.

I heard your prayers. It sounded like the ones the green eyed one would chant over those gave their life blood for the queens ritual. Whichever God she chose to follow that day.

* referring to Alduin, who she has named the damned soul

Clearly, he had no mind nor care for his actions. If in a better head space, Khasni may have punished him in this very moment. But it had been a sacred time. The spirits would not accept her sacrifice if violence ensued mere minutes after.

The oddities he spoke of were none she knew. Gods and Queens. What were they but tales and titles. To think, this man assumed they were what she praised. She almost laughed at this, but instead held her facade firm.

I speak no prayers. You found yourself here at a time of sacrifice. This hare- Gesturing with a flick of her tail, the woman's ears flattened slightly. The heartwood housed it, as it now does ourselves. By this ritual, the spirits that have commanded our presence will know we have made it our home, our claim. Now he would know the truth of what all had occurred. Hopefully he understand, lest she need repeat her explanation. 

Now there was a question of who exactly this wolf was and how he came to be here.

Seeing as you walk the corridors of the heartwood caverns, you are clearly bound by the veil. What title has the *damned of the heartwood bestowed upon you?

Dreven was many things. Careless, callous. Cruel sprang to mind at times. Though, he had tried not to be as cruel as his queen and family. Though, he wasn't one to sacrifice himself on the altar of another either. Would the she wolf had met him with violence it would have been returned. Tenfold.

Dreven followed her movements and nodded. Mind racing. Thoughtful. Spirits called us. You are letting them know we are here, obeyed.

He nodded accepting. Moving on.

He bestowed, Harbinger

He was to be second in command. If he was certain of the roles.

And you?

"Spirits called us. You are letting them know we are here, obeyed."

He understood. Or, partially so. It was not quite accurate that all whom were currently present had been anointed by the spirits to call the heartwood home, but Khasni did not wish to ruin the satisfaction of having been given purpose. Clearly, that was what this brute thought. But alas, it was not the spirits who had made it so ... but fate, and fate alone.

"He bestowed, Harbinger."

Though not familiar with the title chosen, she knew enough to figure it was an important rank. Khasni could do nothing but withhold judgement on his character. Surely Alduin would choose well. The honor was given to him, thus he should know who to bestow the same to others. To his reply, for the time being, she would say nothing.

And you?

A curious question; the equivalence of her own.

By the lips of the damned and before the eyes of our eldest spirits, I was dubbed as the Oracle. Henceforward, I covet the label "Saga", for it means "she who sees everything". A fitting label, but perhaps not one everyone would accept, nor agree to use. Such would not be forced by any, but it certainly would be an opportunity to gain both esteem and respect.

Dreven was not foolish enough to believe that he understood everything the brown kissed she seeker was saying, but he had enough sense. To know at the very least of what spirits were and the calling of such.

Dreven himself was not entirely certain what Harbinger was. He knew he was second to Malacath, and only Malacath. And thus his loyalties lied with the large brute beast. Though were he to tell him, to show deference to another, he would indeed.

Dreven studied her and realized quickly that she was proud of the title Saga and to speak it would mean deference. One thing he had learned as Consort and slave. Always please those around you.

So he offered her a quick quirk of his lips. Then I greet you, Saga.

He thought of offering her his given name, but did he really need too. Did it matter what his name was here. Here he would be Harbinger. Not Dreven. Not Layre. Not Shayde. A title and a name. He who came from nothing, but darkness. Had a chance at living in the daylight.

He spoke the label out of regard, but she could not be sure of whether his words were smothered with sarcasm or uncouth merriment. It would be a mystery here on until his voice and actions proved otherwise.

To his words, the chocolate woman nodded in slight.

Khasni thought, briefly. There had been enough information shared, but what would hurt if there was more? She knew not his name, but only his title. He had spoken nothing of his past, nor how he came to be here. But in the given moment, was any of it necessary? Surely not.

You have seen the heartwood. Do you truly receive it as your hearth? The claimed Saga spoke this with genuity and austerity. Never here would there be room for uncertainty of ones loyalty. If he meant to stay, he would. Leaving without good reason would not be permitted, especially not by her.

Dreven had meant her title respectfully. Or at least as much as he could be. She would be called as such, because it was the title she preferred. It was an unspoken rule.

Red eyes went inward as he thought of the paths he had taken. The heartwood and it's broken barren branches, but where life hid amongst the decay. It reminded him of home, of him. Skeletal life remained here, and hidden treasure. He liked to think of himself in a small regard as such. He wasn't treasure by any means, but he had thrived in decay, before.

I do. I will not leave without pain of death or if the damned orders it.

Breaking this bit up until the next post so that there is no form of accidental power-playing over Dreven

 "I do. I will not leave without pain of death or if the damned orders it."

Khasni heard truth, and would hear of nothing else.

You have accepted the heartwood, and so the heartwood accepts you. Come forth so that I may present you to the elders. They have not seen your soul in its new form, but they shall soon.

If the harbinger came closer as bid, then she would break the space between them completely and gesture for the man to lower his head.

Thank you. I will give you permission for small power plays in the future, given that she will probably have many rituals.

Dreven ghosted forward on brutish paws. He bent his head to the tiny femme, red eyes fixed on her pale eyes. The ragged brushing of her fur against his, caused him momentary distraction. He was a man of simple things, and he had been taught lovers embrace, and was often used as such.

He forced the thoughts down. Realizing he no longer had to rely on such ministrations, that he could get by on his own merit, not what he could do for others.

The brute was unsure what she was planning to do, but he wasn't afraid.

The harbinger moved and bent his head as instructed. Khasni was pleased by this.

Turning to the pool glittering against the stone floor, she dipped her paw once more. Back again to the man, her paw rose and pressed firmly against his crown, then to drag downward until a line reached his snout.

Let this offering serve two purposes, the second binding this harbinger, of which the name is unknown, to the heartwood until his dying breath. Elder spirits, hear me as I commend this man to you. Be it now that he may be protected by your ever so watchful eyes, and let him never forget the oath he has made on this day to the damned, the Saga, and the forsaken as a whole.

Letting her paw fall down again to the floor, the woman lifted her chin. Rise, harbinger of the heartwood. This is the day of your welcoming, shall it never be forgotten.

If nothing else could be said of Dreven, he was an obedient beast. Sure he had other notable traits, but that one seemed to please everyone the most. Whether in lust, familial or other such things.

Sticky. Wet. Congealed. Slip Sliding down his large head. But he didn't shudder. He was used to blood on body. He would clean it later. Still as a statue, he stood. Waiting, listening. Wondering. Watching.

Dreven lifted his head as she had instructed and watched her with red eyes. Very Well, Saga. This beast thanks you.

He stepped backward and with another bow to his head. I will take my leave, let you with your rituals and I will make sure to let other's know this is a sacred place, now and none shall enter without express permission. Other than our leader of course.

He chuffed and he would leave, less she wanted more of him.

Archiving it here!

This beast knew well. He had not been as stubborn as the damned one. Perhaps she had been right to hold her judgement, for now she was almost entirely content with this individual.

Voice rasped and expressing oncoming exhaustion, the woman dipped her head in return to the harbinger. 

He would leave, and she would clean up the remnants from the sacrifice and return to the hollow corner where she would sleep.