celtic lore

Under the tutelage of her family and the druids did the woman learn of ancient myth and old truths. To doubt them was to doubt her own existence and she had never considered such a thing, even when the words of those not of this place did not ever reach her ears. She was young. There was time.

Where she had come from was quite far. Daily, she wished to return home. But this was one journey she must make. The druids told of it, long before she was born, and nightly so was she. And when the day came that she reached the proper age to go, Caoimhe left as was bid. Find them, she was told. For this is not their only resting place. You must rouse them when you do, and tend to them. Do not get lost; do not let the fey take you.

They told her nothing more. Not of reasons, not of how long she was meant to stay, not of anything. It was to happen in this miserable season. Caoimhe, the first of mixed blood and the last of her mothers spiritual line, was alone in this. And she had felt nothing of the ancient spirits, so in her travels she was desolate and felt very much abandoned by the only thing she felt she had ever loved and needed. But she was not to live in comfort.

[font=georgia]It was a cold day. The sylph had traveled long to come to this place. But as she saw it, she knew at once that it was the place she sought. She felt some presence here, and she, the intoxicated worshiper, fell into the throes of it. To Caoimhe it was not nameless. The Old Ones were here. Sometimes one might be lucky enough to see one, luckier still to commune with them. The youth had no such fortune, not as her mother or her eldest sister did. Caoimhe was offered something somehow greater. A child of prophecy, she had much to fulfill. She was not privy to the whisper of spirits, but she could not help but wish that one day she would be. Caoimhe listened keenly, and the tendrils upon the earth looked as though they were reaching for her; she heeded them, silently, doe-eyed. Come, come, they seemed to lure, and she moved through the mists, charmed by the welcome she felt in the forests arms.

Hope you don't mind me and Lagon! :-)

Lagon had never been this far north in the Teekon Wild's before ...though in all fairness since his arrival he had not actually left the general vicinity of Lost Creek Hollow. He hadn't had much of a need too simply because he hadn't intended to pursue the Hunter or Scout trades which would require him to venture out of the claimed lands, though the warrior specialty of the mercenary trade might require him to have knowledge of the lands of the Wilds. Part of the duty would be to escort wolves of the Hollow when necessary and blindly meandering around the Wilds in the case of getting lost did not sound like anything that Lagon wished to partake in. He assumed that he would be escorting outriders but he didn't think there was any harm in getting a basic knowledge of the Wilds just in case. He figured that making the effort to go beyond the basic call of duty might not be a bad thing and he was nothing if not  an overachiever.

His wandering had brought him to the heart of a forest whose towering sequoias were something to marvel at; and marvel the dragon did. It was strangely warm in this forest, warmer than the rest of the Wilds, which had been bitterly cold ever since his arrival. He could faintly hear the sea in the distance though he had not sought the edge of the forest, favoring the heart where the warm and woodsy aromas of prey animals was the strongest. He had eaten a few hours prior and was not gripped by any sort of hunger rumblings and his desire was born of his curiosity. These strange forest was intriguing to him and he was content to linger long enough to explore and unravel it's presented enigmas.

The dragon had not expected to come across any one else within the territory for he'd ascertained that it was not claimed before he'd crossed into it, and was thus struck with a shock of surprise when he shrugged past a particularly thick collection of brush and spotted a tawny girl whose attention appeared to be focused elsewhere. For a moment, the dragon froze, crouching low, using the shadows to his advantage as camouflage, eyes of mahogany red watching her with unbidden curiosity for a few moments before, boldly, he let out a low chuff of greeting and to alert her to his presence (if she had not already detected it) and allowed his svelte body to take form outside of the shadows.

tossing lasher here bc he is a gaelic druid also :D

the old ones. lasher had known them as the small race, the creatures who spun nightmare from pale dream and abomination from the melding of flesh against flesh. he tried not to think of that which he had seen in his birth-glen, but nightly the memories tormented him, drawing the man from blue willow's side to breathe the cold air of the world outward. there were spirits here, yes, and in a circle of stones to the south, but in this quiet wood, he felt the brush of their breath clearly. taltos did not reach to commune -- he had met far too many disembodied souls in his life -- but somehow their presence was comforting to he had who had been reared upon the mysticism and mystery of a small scottish glen.

never one to abandon his bid, nor those he loved, lasher made his quiet trail through the weald in the direction of the sound. donnelaith could hold no more, not with children soon to be born. and yet he could not help the inexorable bond between them, for it drew him with invisible thread toward the pack of saltwinter.

but there was a woman, and practiced eye revealed that she moved with careful abandon toward the spirits he too felt. harlyn had called herself druid, but that she had not been such. this child, however -- aside from her great beauty, lasher felt himself commanded, charmed. the nearby man with blood-gaze went unseen; taltos focused his eyes upon the woman and was still, seeking her stare with his own in silent knowingness.

Caoimhe moved through the forest, a wisp of a thing in her environment. Her paws struck lightly against the earth, mindful of the world around her. The forest was alive. Its sighs were in the dragging of wood against wood when the branches mingled with one another, and its cries were in the songbirds call. One must heed the wood and its heralded warning, as well as all else it might tell. The wood knew. The wood was a thing that survived, even when they passed. And where did the wolves go? The earth took them past their rot; the body of all dead things fed this place, so that the circle would go on and on. The death of one in this body was not death entire.

This was not the place of Tuath Dé. It was a place far older than that. Lore told of those Gods bringing to a near end the old, until a compromise was made. The Old Ones lurked in different realms, while the Tuath Dé survived and thrived in the Wood of where she was born. It would be foolish to discount either, as a mystic, as a druid; she was meant to abide by the New Gods, but her curiosity made her listen well to the ancient hum well beneath her in the roots of this place.

Others watch.

It could have been intuition. She might have believed it, but the deep vibration of the voice had the woman look firstly toward Ancalagon—whose name she did not know, naturally—and her eyes seemed to widen in surprise. Her own mind leaped to reach at the thread she was given. She had been spoken to! For the first time! And she prayed that this would not be the last as she grappled with her own mind, asking desperately: Does he mean harm? Who is this? And he chuffed to her in greeting. Caoimhe herself was a deer in headlights, shy and nervous as a young girl could sometimes be. The woman was about to depart, to escape in the depths of the forest so that it could shield her from her fears... but it was then the druid felt something more, and turned her head to see the gaze of the forest captured within the others eyes.

One leg had been lifted, but she was held, there, by his look: in his visage she saw the world she knew, and the wild at play in the lush verdant green of them. It was strange, truly, to see such a degree of familiarity... but it validated her further. Caoimhe had come to the right place, she was certain of that now. Even still she was a taut bow, ready to be released into this coniferous wild should her anxieties play at the chord, and would spring free of them as an arrow would should they join on her own minds manipulation.

lol, a little jealous much, lagon? xD

She saw him, though his vocal greeting had implied the effort to make sure that he did not pass by entirely unnoticed by her. Though her look struck the dragon as frightened more than anything else. Whether this assumption was correct or not was up in the air, but Lagon would, for the moment, defer to his judgment for It — and her body language — was all the young dragon really had to go off of. “Wait, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you...” He broke his silence adopted as he studied her “deer in the headlights” look, though he was afraid to move so much as a twitch of a muscle that he  might spook her if he did. Lagon wasn't particularly used to that kind of look — the kind of look that made him feel like he had scared her. He wasn't particularly scary (or so he thought, anyway). His tone had been soft as it breached the silence of the forest, assuring, his posture amiable and non threatening.

She looked away, abruptly; and stared at the newcomer upon the scene, her gaze appearing startling focused and lacking what Lagon had assumed to be the fear she'd had when she'd looked at him. Unable to help that he felt slighted by the sudden way things had happened, mahogany eyes rolled to stare at the older man that had joined them — the one the girl's gaze was fixated upon. Perhaps it was the spoiled brat within Lagon but he didn't appreciate getting that kind of reaction as a greeting while the other didn't, drawing the assumption that she didn't know the chocolate colored male if only because she did not voice a greeting at him. 

Would Lagon have been the majestic serpent he'd been named for he would have let out a hiss of discontent, as it was he settled for a soft sigh, wondering if he shouldn't just bail and let them alone to their heady stares or whatever the hell was going on between them.

she looked upon him, and taltos knew then that spirits moved in this place, for they beckoned from the look that conferred knowingness upon his own soul. his gesture was callow, filled with disuse, for it was not often at all that the man looked upon another who conversed with the shadows, but he sent a single thought arrow-like toward the child: i know you. he meant this in a general sense -- he had never seen the woman before, but knew naturally that they were bonded by way of their closeness with the invisible spectres roundabout.

taltos felt the irritation of the male who gazed upon them with blood-eyes; he turned his own murkwater stare upon the man, wondering why he had found himself so riddled with ire. the child was lovely, yes, and she had looked upon taltos with an expression she had not given unto the other man, but the druid did not understand what appeared to be jealousy.

His words did not have the accented lilt she was accustomed to. She had time enough to wonder where she was as he spoke, his words soft and unassuming. Caoimhe recognized the effort exerted there into pushing her fears away; had she more time, had she not soon after been distracted, she might have been able to think more on them, on this other, on what he wanted and if he wanted it from her. Caoimhe had little to give. 

But the others presence had called to her, the wind alerting her. She silently thanked the element, jaw tilted upward. Again she was reminded that her journey here was not without purpose. That she had come to expand the faith. To define that was foolish; it had no perimeters. Bring it here, draw it out in others, reinstate or remind... Somehow her faith was here in this wood, where The Old ones rumbled beneath them all, their roots deep. But they were tired, these Old Ones; they were not the Tuatha De, older than the Fair Folk. It had been too long since any measure of faith had watered these roots... 

This the druid felt as seconds passed her by, and as her eyes fell to the man, she was shocked by the link she was certain, now, they shared. Now her chin drew downward and her ears twitched, perking forward only just. There was no denying that she agreed in the movement alone, but as his eyes fell away she was no longer captive to the thought. 

She could sense the others unease, and it set her on edge. Her narrow muzzle pointed now to the wolf whom sighed, and the mortal sighe—while both were distracted—moved to sprint deeper into the wood, to evade the strange energy that had been created, to find the heart of this place that called to her without a word.

Going to go ahead and have Lagon take his leave. c:

His efforts to be friendly — though he had a friendly disposition naturally and in truth it required no effort — was quickly lain to waste as far as Lagon cared to think when the other male had appeared and the girl and man had shared a look that Lagon didn't quite understand. All he could think was that perhaps they were lovers or something (regardless of how wrong he was) and started to make all the wrong assumptions. Maybe she'd been waiting for the chocolate colored male here and he (Lagon) had been an unexpected and unwanted surprise. It would make sense, Lagon reasoned, as to why she seemed like she was going to take flight at any given second. She never once spoke, nor either did the chocolate male but when the girl darted into the forest Lagon did not make an effort to go after her. Following his line of assumptions he figured she probably wanted to be alone with the chocolate colored male and who was he to interrupt whatever was going on between them?

Without another word he turned and departed trying to remember if he'd ever had a more odd interaction in his life and came to the quick conclusion that he had not.

@Caiohme, up to u if he finds her or not! <3 

the man was forgotten as with a sudden movement the girl dashed doelike into the forest. lasher's eyes followed her, some small smattering of light bringing the verdant hue of the deep emerald to his gaze from the depths of the usual swampwater. rather convinced that jealousy drove the actions of the other male, taltos was still, silent, watching as the man turned and moved away upon his own path. normally, he would not give pursuit, but the girl formed such a drawing quarry that the earthen servant was bound to follow.

quickening his step, lasher moved with lengthening stride into the shadows of the trees, searching for her scent, her sylphlike form among the greened pedicels. he was noiseless in his search; there was something here, something between them, unseen and yet tangible -- lasher did not for one moment wonder if his search was in vain.

She had not gotten very far. 

Caoimhe lingered before a great tree. Its size was incomprehensible, and there were no proper words to describe it as to understand it perfectly, as to see it as you would before your own eyes. Gargantuan, massive, enormous; none of these words suited it. Its immensity was overwhelming, and its veins were only just exposed. And so it was true: The Old Ones were here! It was hard to tell whether they were the runaway Fenian's or those she had heard praise (yet reverent fear) of, but Caoimhe knew it would be discovered, for Whoever it was welcomed her acknowledgment, her knowingness, she felt in her heart! Caoimhe settled among the roots, a quiet prayer of thanks, of adoration, murmured under her breath.

beneath a clasp of twisted roots she lay, reverent in her silence and beauty, and lasher stepped near her, though not so close that he would disturb her worship. his own eyes fell upon the tree; he felt the whispers of the souls roundabout them, and he too lowered his head to proffer prayers to this blessed place, and whatever had led him here, and the woman also. taltos did not seek to ply her with words; he settled himself some feet away, lowering down to his haunches, and slipping into a half-dream of his natal glen.

This discovery was a great one, and Caoimhe understood it was here she must remain, Their words reverberating in her bones. Caoimhe was young, yes, and she was not even an old soul, but her teachings were ancient and her knowledge of Them gleaned and given freely by the others who truly knew Them. It was only now these beings spoke to her, if what occurred could be called that. 

The young woman turned when her praises lapsed to silence, touching her snout to a root and feeling the power there. It would be a slow awakening; she alone could not do it. Perhaps this one might aid her, perhaps this man was a key part of her path. Something to show for the months of nothingness! But that was too much, Caoimhe felt. She had found what she felt to be an abandoned Nemeton, a sanctuary. 

Still, she was hopeful. Hopeful that in this world, in her ways, she was not alone. Caoimhe waited for his own dream to finish, but drew nearer to him, helpless to the draw, their link.

she came near as the visions ebbed away; he met her eyes with knowingness gleaming in the depths of his gaze. "labhraíonn siad leat freisin," he observed softly, for was not the stamp of the old glen upon her? whatever her origins, she was here now, and he felt their invisible chain keenly. he had spoken in the tongue of donnelaith, assuming perhaps that she knew it also. but no matter if she did not. he would repeat himself; he did not mind, if only in the intentions of speaking with her and sharing in the wisdom she surely carried within her mind.

Caoimhe could scarce believe her ears as he spoke with her in the language most familiar and close to her, but she did not know it from Donnelaith. She edged nearer to him, nodding her head but unable to break her silence quite yet. That they communed with him truly amazed her, and by the minute Caoimhe felt that this was the place her task had led her, and perhaps with this one she could achieve Their wish. 

Ach lá atá inniu ann, a insint dom go bhfuil siad anseo, agus go bhfuil sé seo i gcás ina ní mór dom fanacht, She admitted to him, Ach tá mé ar a dtugtar iad ar feadh mo shaol. The forest seemed to blink its eyes as they spoke, to watch them. Caoimhe could hear not a thing but for his breathing, the birdsong gone in the wake of their words.

her silver eyes filled with amazement -- likewise, lasher was stunned when she responded in his own argot, the secret speech of glen-dwellers and those would commune with witches, would be witches. he did not get the sense that the woman believed herself as such, but was eager to know more of her, from where she had come, and why she had arrived. "mar tá mé," he rejoined, sweeping her lovely features with questioning eyes.

"bhí sé i bhfad ró-fhada ó shin bhuail mé eile againn san áit seo," the man said after a small silence. he marvelled in the woman's direction, quite stricken with awe that another should be here, another who shared his heart.

The smile that came to her lips at his words could not be helped. This she had not expected in her wildest of dreams! She had thought she would enter this place alone, and do what she must alone with much resistance from others who were dubious of the Fair Folk and the Tuatha, among so much other things! And before her eyes was someone who had his heart open to Them, who even seemed to hear Them as she could. Her eyes cast to the Earth and then to the Sky as she gave thanks once more for her fortune and for their cosmic workings. Planned, it must be. And she was on course. 

Bhí mé ag sheoladh, she confided, feeling safe here, feeling safe, also, with him. Chun scaipeadh cén fhios sin beag, anois, leis siúd a bheadh a fhoghlaim. Chun teacht ar níos mó draíochta, chun cuidiú sé ag fás. She wondered if he might be here for the same reason, suddenly, and she held her breath to hear what he might say, anxious for this idea, her mission, to be accepted by him as it had been accepted by They who hummed beneath her. Why, those here must be warned, too, of The Fair Folk who had escaped to take for their own desires, inhumane as they were! There was the vague feeling of them, but the dizzying, disorientation came soon after that caused her to forget every moment she imagined one could be near.

likewise, he too was elated, inspired by her own excitement, and the sense of purposeful worship that surrounded the woman. lasher was content, content as he had rarely been before, to listen unto the familiar cadence of the woman's words, and to see her pray openly before him, and give thanks. he too followed suit, and cupped each syllable of that which he spoke in careful ears.

to her revelation he gave a nod. the wolves of this place were godless, it was so, but often were they guided by a singular and all-encompassing set of morals, of ethics, of desires. he knew not of her warning, but to her words he gave a whisper: "cad ní mór a dhéanamh liom a bheith cabhrach?"