Sleeping Dragon bone tongue

This meeting is mandatory. Round 1. Please reply by Thursday, October 6. Assuming everyone has arrived. No one is on absence and not excused but if you need to, PM me or message me on slack! @Dio @Wildfire @Hush @Portia @Rosalyn @Goliath @Rebekka @Foxglove @Mojave @Lucia @Freyja @Thyri @Hvitserk @Eske.

The hasn't been anything in particular that has been holding back the meeting other than her own anxiety. The changes, for the most part, are normal, but one small detail she hasn't been sure of. Confident in the decisions she makes, finding the right time seems to leave her a little at a loss. Drageda has changed so much from its predecessor that another change won't make much of a different but their ways have been set for generations. Things change over the course of their years together but the rapid succession they've gone through has been a whirlwind. She'll be known for further generations but for the good or bad of the pack, she isn't certain and she can only find out as they go forward. Her intentions are pure, as always, but how she is perceived is beyond her control.

She finds Wildfire first to discuss the timing and with a little encouragement, she is able to easily find Dio and bring him up to speed. Neither of the wolves in her council are of her former home but they bleed Drageda no less than those that have.

And then, she calls for the rest of the wolves to gather.

Her normal entrance is set aside, as it had been last time, and she waits upon a sturdy ledge with two tall trees hanging on by the roots as guardians. Her heat beats heavy in her chest, much more than the last time they had been brought together, but she awaits wolves that will come. When they all arrive, she passes on glance to either wolves nearby and clears her threat once things have settled among them.

"There has been new faces since the last time we congregated. Mojave, Lucia, Foxglove, Rosalyn, and Goliath," she introduces, for those that may have not crossed paths. Goliath's circumstance is also swept under the rug since he has been able to prove himself and works with the rest of them, looking them over briefly for everyone to acknowledge each other. "The goufa's have grown and become one with us, finding their way into our large family and will continue to do so. Freyja has acquired her apprenticeship as feisripa, hunter. Spechou."

There is another pause to give the child her dues for her hard work, a chance to take the congratulations as they roll in, and a faint smile lingers on her features. There are still things she has to tell them, no doubt questions filling their minds on their purpose, but she does not wish to steal the spotlight too soon and waits for a lull to begin again.

The Heda’s call came just as the Goufa had stretched in the sunshine as she savored the lingering warmth from Summer. Autumn had made itself apparent in the mountain territory, but Freyja was not certain that she was ready to give up the warm weather just yet. Pushing herself onto her paws, the child shook herself clean and headed in the direction of the meeting space. As she abandoned the perfect napping place, she reassured herself that it would still be there when the meeting was over if she was still feeling tired.


She arrived without much hassle and seated herself towards the front once she filed into the area, offering her leaders a dip of her head as she looked up to them. As she surveyed them, she could not help but feel intrigued of how powerful their Heda looked on her perch. She was used to their leader’s presence on a more intimate level and could not recall her looking so powerful. In that moment she wished that she looked that powerful, too.

Once the other’s had gathered Thuringwethil began to speak of the changes that had come upon her pack. Regarding the new members with a dip of her head, though she had already met most of them personally, she turned her attention back to Thuringwethil as news in regards to her rank was told.

Fesiripa.

She froze in that moment as a mixture of excitement and accomplishment overcame her. She had not expected such news but, regardless, was excited to hear that her hard work in learning the trade had paid off. Perking herself up, the Feisripa beamed under the Heda’s gaze. “Mochof, Heda,” she replied strongly from cloud nine, her heart thudding in sync with her tail.

The instant Thuringwethil called for the rest of Drageda to gather, Wildfire fell back a little, deferring to both the Heda and the Wocha. She sat on her haunches and curled her black tail around her slim hips, angling her face outward to watch as the members of the pack arrived. She knew all of the faces at least in passing, though there was a handful of wolves she still had to acquaint with properly. Her glistening amber eyes rested the longest on Goliath, though her attention was recaptured by her lover when the commander began to speak.

At Freyja's honorable mention, a warm smile spread across Wildfire's face. "Spechou," she echoed Thuringwethil, her voice fond. She was so proud of Freyja and happy that she had been able to play a part in her training. She was already a very promising Feisripa and Wildfire couldn't wait to watch her grow and improve, finding her niche and perhaps even mastering her craft.

When called, Portia settled, huffing a bit from her trek over but regaining composure quickly and gracefully. She sat, her tail laying flat at her side and scanned the area for Dio. She found him sitting with their Heda and Wildfire, and curiously tilted her head. She studied him for a moment before focusing onto Thuringwethil, who began to speak.

Her first reaction was to seek out the child and give her an enthusiastic "Spechou," which sat badly on her tongue. She cleared her throat and tried again, going this time for a simple "Congrats, hun," and a bright smile. Drageda's language was not her first, but she tried her damnedest to be one with the pack that had now become her home.  Thuringwethil did not appear to be done, so she waited patiently to be addressed again. 

Throwing in a late night post, sorry for the wierd-grammar...

As Goliath trotted in with the rest of the kru with a burnt back, a broken molar and several other cuts and sores, he could only feel aches across his entire blistered body. Despite his dull conditons, the fact that he finally returned to the deeper parts of pack grounds lifted his spirit; it had been some time since he had been back to the meeting point, and a spark of what some call 'Nostalgia' filled his fat, gross heart.

As he looked for a place to sit, he caught a particularly small wolf staring at him. Already having his entire body in pain, (and finding that this was not the time he was to be judged) he simply grunted a greeting from afar and took a seat, not recognizing that that female was one of the much higher ranked Hedonakru.

Looking towards the Heda as she spoke, his face changed into an even sterner expression at the mention of the pack's young ones, remembering a particular child which (he thought) travelled to the border only to bug him.

At first, he did not match the name and the pup together, but when a small, grey girl chimed in to thank her superiors, Goliath finally came to realize that the wolf Thuringwethil was praising was the same one which had bothered him merely days ago.

His mood immediately took a turn for the worse, and he ended up contemplating wether he should go back to the geysers - the day could simply not get any worse. Despite his better judgement, he ended up staying, and mocked the other wolves in muttering a harsh "Spechou" under his breath.

Lucia arrived quickly to the occasion, hearing her name amongst others as the Heda spoke. She took a seat next to an unfamiliar male, and he was, simply stated, enormous. She recalled hearing the name "Goliath" among the names and couldn't help but assume that this was him. She cleared her throat, directing her gaze back towards Thuringwethil. The way she was she seemed so confident and powerful -- her words demanded the kru's attention and certainly drew her in. The commander was one of the best leaders she had ever seen. 

She was brought back to reality by the mention of Freyja's accomplishment. A feisripa, or hunter, was definitely something to be proud of. The light female gave the girl a warm smile before muttering the word everyone else was saying under her breath. "Spetcho." Suddenly she was thankful she had decided to speak quietly. If anyone else had heard how much she had butchered that, it would have been quite embarrassing.

It wasn't often that Rosalyn felt out of sorts.  In most places she would settle down with an almost irritating brevity, considering herself to belong there simply by the fortune of being, well, her.  With Caiaphas this had been a large part of the problem, her own pride and penchant for snark not serving her well.  But here was different, and so far she had the uncomfortable sense of feeling oddly out of place.

Likely it was her status as invalid, and her inability to properly explore and contribute.  She wasn't always a team player, no, but even she understood the importance of doing some semblance of her part.  So when she arrived at the meeting, she hung back.  As it progressed, the feeling only grew as words she had no inkling of prevailed.  The ranks here were strange, as was the tongue that many of them spoke.  It wasn't one she had ever crossed in her travels, and did not at all harken to the language of the southern shores.  

She missed the cue and failed to congratulate the girl who she assumed was being recognized.  So she had made hunter.  Good for her.  Their talk the other day had been enjoyable, and she was one of few the Rivaini recognized, so she was glad.

With the prefacing neatly complete, he took up a new spot of his closer to the commander when the call for the pack rose to the winds. He has to wonder how this will be received, and for a split second, how this will shape their future -- and him with it. On this new first glance, it certainly satisfies him as it is just what he has come to devote himself towards already.. and what he is skilled at, no less. Now, he is interested to see how this new title will fit onto him in the days to come.

Soon enough, he's watching the pack filter in one after another and matters proceed naturally not long after. He peers quietly at Portia when she arrives, and eventually settles much of his attentions upon the gathered puppies as Thuringwethil begins to speak of their newest hunter apprentice, Freyja. It's something to be proud of, and he knows the little Dragons are doing very well. "Spechou," he repeats as well with a firm nod. The language does not yet roll smooth from his tongue but he knows he's not alone here in this. He still favors it much more to his ear than speaking it himself. Soon, though, and with better practice he hopes that this will no longer be his case.

He had gathered with the others, keen ears turning towards Heda to catch every word she said as the meeting began.

He knew of Goliath, having recognized and sparred with the behemoth a while back, but he cranes his head to see the others, putting faces to names, or at the very least putting faces in his brain. But it is not only to welcome the newcomers that Heda called this meeting, oh no.

His tail thumped with enthusiasm as Freyja was promoted to Feisripa. She had been one of the few pups he had seen more than once, and he had watched her grow from toddler to warrior in almost an instant. He smiled broadly, almost prideful in the way he looked. As if he had done anything to help. But pride he felt nonetheless.

At the news of her promotion, a congratulations was praised upon the girl, Freyja, and Rebekka is no acceptation. Freya had surprised her; the ability to hunt and learn as well as she did at an age where Rebekka had not expected it. Children, to her, were basically useless until they could serve the pack yet Freyja had far exceeded any expectations the woman had assumed. For once and for other than herself, she felt a sense of pride. This was a daughter of one of her kind and she dipped her head towards the girl briefly, before murmuring a quick “Well odon,” The girl had earned it. While it had been an easy mistake that they had met, Rebekka was sure to see the youthling again and on better terms than the forgetfulness of her name. As others stumbled over words that were not their tongue, she drew her attention away from the girl to Heda herself, awaiting other news besides the welcoming of a handful of newcomers Rebekka would not jump to meet. Some she recognized, other she did not; it did not matter enough to her. Heda was her sole focus, and the woman would await her further instruction like she was meant to. 

They gathered one by one, sometimes in pairs, either way they all came together in something of an orderly fashion. It was momentarily overwhelming to see so many faces, though there were a few in which she recognized. Portia being one of them, though Thuringwethil was a natural icon in her gaze as well. The others, well, they were mismatched and unfamiliar, and it left Mojave with a sensation that perhaps she spent far too much time outside of the grounds to be connected to them. The old crone she had spoken to was strangely absent, and her departure from the living world was not known to her.

When Thuringwethil began to speak, she felt her body flush with warmth at the mention of her name, but it passed as she realized she was only being lumped in with some of the other newer recruits to the pack. Her gaze wandered over them briefly, but they too, did not seem familiar to her. She wasn't even sure why she would think she'd recognize them—at best and as of late she had been something of a fringe participant anyway.

Lost still in the customs of a world that seemed still slightly out of her reach, she too missed the round of congratulations for the puppy that had earned... something. Hunter? Mojave still mustered a genuine smile and a hearty wag of her tail, because an achievement was still an achievement, even if she hadn't the faintest idea of just what on earth it was supposed to be.

The call does not necessarily surprise Gavriel. They were new, still trying to figure out their ways here compared to Seageda, and things changing along the way left a little wiggle room from one meeting to the next. He finds Gyda nearby, Freyja no where to be found, but the other puppies within the immediate area. He nudges each @Hvitserk and @Thyri while Gyda encourages @Eske to do the same. 

To their benefit, the meeting spot isn't too far and with three growing puppies, doubling in size almost every day, wasn't any less of a challenge to get there in one piece. As he approaches, he finds Freyja already in place near the front but near Thuringwethil stands, of course, Wildfire, as well as Dio. Reading through the new changes, even before they are spoken, puts a weird taste in his mouth but he doesn't speak of it just yet. 

Instead, he makes himself comfortable as Heda begins to speak and hearing the praises his daughter is given. A smile adorns his features and he chuffs his own congratulations in the chorus of others.

Hvitserk hadn’t noticed when his sister had slipped away, and though he’d wondered about where she’d gone, he’d allowed for himself to be herded along by Gavriel. Once they’d reached the others, he’d easily found the familiar form of Freyja, but had not approached. He’d hung back and watched her, then looked to the darker woman as she’d started to speak. Names were mentioned, many of which being ones that he could not put a face to, and so they’d slipped from his mind just as quickly as they’d entered it. Perhaps he might recall them at a later date but, for the time being, his attention had shifted to his sister and the recognition that she was receiving. He did not feel jealous, but was instead proud, for he cared a great deal about her. To know that she was rising was a good thing, he believed, and so the boy had smiled in her direction. What followed was a chorus of spechou, the word having been spoken so many times that it no longer sounded correct to his ears. With a shake of his head, he’d then moved forward, careful to avoid the crowd as his sibling was sought.

As he neared her, the boy wagged his tail and wasted no time closing the distance between them. His nose found its way to her cheek, a smile never far from his lips as he offered his silent congratulations first. It was only once he was sure that he’d be heard by no one else that his mouth had opened, speaking to her just as he usually did. “Til hamingju, Freyja,” he’d told her, careful with his words. They were meant for her alone, for she deserved them more than anyone in his eyes.

eske's such a brat i sw2g. >_> *punts her*

 

Hearing everyone praise Freyja up and down was almost enough to make Eske — whose skin prickled with her natural competitive nature — turn around and walk away. She would have, if not for the smack down stare Gyda gave her. She let out a low huff under her breath, muzzle wrinkling back from her teeth. Freyja deserved the praise, Eske knew. She knew; but that didn't keep the nasty green monster of envy in her from rearing it's ugly head. Freyja was the perfect older sister that everyone adored and was like some princess. Eske did not join in praising her, instead rolling her eyes quietly where she sulked at Gyda's side, ignoring her mother's burning glare at her. Eske was the Grounder Princess and Freyja was not. Eske wanted to fight. She could feel the need bubble and seethe just beneath her skin. If this meeting was just going to be a Freyja Show then Eske wanted nothing to do with it. Surely there was some loner she could go harass somewhere. Which, as far as she was concerned, would be a much better waste of time than this.

The meeting had been set, and were it not for the dark Heda's call, the young child might not have gone. Her limbs carried her quickly toward the setting of their gathering. As she drew closer,  she noted the scents of her siblings and then the other pack members. Pale caramel eyes scoured first, but the news of Freyja's rank whispered through her ears. A cold expression creased her young features. There was pride on her silver sister's face, but Thyri did not see it as being appropriate. Still, the young child kept to the back of the group and held her tongue. She would not publicly remark on such things. Still, the stormchaser did not do well to hide her distaste. 

Sorry for the delay! If @Portia could reply first (if she hadn't replied by Wednesday, feel free to fall in as normal. Please reply by next Wednesday, October 19th. @Wildfire @Dio @Hush @Rebekka @Rosalyn @Goliath @Mojave @Freyja @Eske @Thyri @Hvitserk

Most of the wolves speak up for Freyja and Thuringwethil watches each one, though the puppies tend to blend in with the rest of them. They have grown, but their lack of voice doesn't pull her attention and she likes that, for the most part, the meeting has started off on a decent note and for the rest to be delivered just as smoothly.

"Next, I wish to honor Dio as someone that has been here almost since the beginning of our new endeavor and has proven himself to take the title of Wocha, the leader of our warriors. Our trained army may be small but I have no doubt he will be able to strength what we have and continue to shape for the future," she says, glancing once toward Dio to invite him a step closer before she looks out upon the rest of the wolves on their acceptance. Or objections.

She expects little backlash, if any, and so once things settle a second time, she moves on.

"Some of you know, and some of you don't, but we bear the mark of those whose life we have taken," she begins, carefully looking over those that do not know their customs. "We carry the weight of what we have done so that it will make us stronger. A life was taken on the borders a few weeks ago, someone that antagonized use near our beginning, and as a result, Heda is to be marked in front of her wolves. Portia?"

With her, she'd prepared the same thing she had with Wildfire. The bloodied, jagged rock she'd cleaned as much as she could, and the same supplies she had nearby, and if the woman was ready, she can begin.

Portia was so shocked she couldn't even congratulate her friend. Her tail wagged quickly, thumping loudly against the dusty earth. Her ears stood perked straight up and her eyes gleamed with pride-- her friend had moved his way all the way to the top! Though she didn't care for power herself, she understood the luxuries of it-- it was the responsibilities that kept her happy at the bottom. The crowd died down a bit, but Portia's tail still wagged happily at her hips, her lips still curved into a bright smile. 

The Heda beckoned her forward, and for a moment she was confused why. The Skayona had been so focused on Dio she'd almost stopped paying attention. There was a slight moment of confusion that was quickly followed by a pause in her tail wagging and a dip of her head. "Of course," she said, and moved her way to the front gracefully, unaffected by the previous moment of unawareness.

Portia begins as soon as she receives an 'a-okay' from Thuringwethil. She moves swiftly but gracefully, quick but careful in all of her actions. The stone is quickly swiped across the shoulder of their leader, and afterwards the ashes and then the antibiotic. She prodded a few extra times for precaution, but when she'd finished she dipped her head to her leaders-- sneaking a quick glance at the newly pronounced Wocha-- and waited to be dismissed or addressed again. 

Next the commander turned the spotlight on Dio. Wildfire smiled warmly at the newest leader, then bowed her head in deference. Her attention returned to Thuringwethil when she mentioned the recent kill at the borders, then invited Portia to the front of the assembly to add another marker to her shoulder. The Bandrona's innards clenched through the entire process and it took all of her restraint not to sweep to the Heda's side to offer support.

That made her think of what was coming next: a public acknowledgement of their bond. She had tried to block out her apprehension by focusing on Freyja, Dio and the other topics covered in the meeting. But it was imminent now. Wildfire's stomach muscles jumped as her heartbeat accelerated. She looked nervously at the crowd of wolves, wondering how they would take the news. Then her attention narrowed in on Thuringwethil. Was she sure she wanted to do this? Was she ready? Was Wildfire?

The commander moves the topic forward with ease, and soon, it's on him -- his brand new promotion, no less. Wocha. When the time is appropriate, he edges closer to Thuringwethil and Wildfire alike and dips his snout in thanks fleetingly to them each. But with that settled, he assumes a proud place next to them and skims the crowd thoughtfully in the wake of this news. He's eager to grow into the role, and just as the heda said, help cultivate their strength into something even greater. Dio has known no other of the same title, and he intends to do it justice and wear it proudly, effectively, for their cause as the Dragons.

He finds the next subject of a greater curiosity, however, and watches as Portia is invited to join them with a perked expression. He has a vague enough grasp on these cultures and ritual doings, but is interested in seeing it play out himself. The concepts and the history at play here just to start. He's no stranger to that exactly but this twist of the commander's homeland is still new to him. The new wocha is interested in learning more.. 

The loner's death in question was still a fresh enough memory so this was perhaps a fitting bookend to that. Portia made quick, but effective work of it, and in her wake was a new mark on their leader. In reverence of this, he was quiet, but sharply attentive. He understood better than before, and more and more, Drageda sings proudly in him. When it's said and done, Dio doesn't miss her glance his way, and he exchanges with a fond smirk and nod. But he kept it subtle, intending to fill her in with more later and likewise find out more about her thoughts on her involvement in these rituals. He was pleased, though, and happy with these outcomes so far.

More ranks, helpfully subtitled for the benefit of those who had no clue what the strange words meant, but still without a whole lot of traction on her bearing.  She preferred to feel out where she stood with another than defer solely because another told her she must.  

Then things got interesting real fast.  Marked? What the hell did that mea..... oh shit.  Rosalyn watched, incredulous, as the Heda allowed some wolf to apply another scar to her shoulder.  They scarred themselves simply because some other wolf met their (often well deserved) end?  Oh hell no.

Rosalyn determined then and there her own ghosts would need to remain unknown.  She'd been fucked enough by them in life - she wasn't about to let them lay a mark on her from beyond as well.

Freyja's attention was cast to her brother as he approached and offered his own words of congratulations. She beamed at him as he spoke and wagged her tail as she reached forward to embrace him before the next part of the meeting commenced.

Though Freyja was well aware of the pack’s traditions, the grayscaled child could not help how her stomach churned when certain practices were carried out. She watched on with a sense of apprehension as Portia moved forward and began the process. Her gaze remained upon the Heda, her gaze steady, as she watched silently. Despite her internal struggles, the child attempted to keep those issues below the surface.

Hvitserk listened as another was promoted, but made no move to offer his congratulations. He’d remained near to his sister, hardly a glance having been cast towards Dio before he was looking back up towards Thur. The custom was something he’d learned about, but had never witnessed before. Of course, his interest made him watch as the Heda was marked, flinching back in the process. Though he knew it to be important, that hadn’t made it seem any less painful, and so he hoped that he might never have the same thing happen to him. Once it'd been finished, he was glad, having not wanted it to go on for any longer.

The woman watched as the healer carved out the line in Heda's shoulder, though Rebekka did not flinch. It was a custom she had known of, a part of grounder culture in her life since before she could understand it's significance. While some cultures would take no appreciation in their kills, each mark signified a victory and a loss; something that could not be forgotten. And so, a reminder for each life taken was both a display of power and a reminder. She longed for the day her pelt was adorned with the strikes of courage as Thuringwethil presented. Yet, Rebekka was a picky fighter, risking her life only when needed unlike some who looked for trouble just to start it. Perhaps she would never gain the scars of generations of grounder warriors, yet, the fact did not disturb her. It made her want it even more. 

The circle stood silent as the work was done, and Rebekka noticed the few blank faces that would have noticeably paled if they were human. Yet, the woman did not expect any less. They were new, they could not understand the importance to the level she did. But they would. A kind assimilation of sorts was in the works, one that produced many distant and wide gazes and eyes as the grounder culture went about it's ways. It was interesting to observe, the reaction and the differences from one type of life to another, something she never would have paid any attention to pre-Sleeping Dragon,.

The next information doesn’t necessarily come as a surprise and perhaps only because he’d gotten the chance to work with Dio for the last several months. Their time together has been with purpose and he’s seen the capability but he can’t help the feeling creep into the back of his mind. He isn’t a wolf from Seageda, as he is—or Rebekka—and he wonders vaguely if that should have given him an advantage. He’s done just as much, or so he believes, but his time with Heda hasn’t been as frequent. In Seageda, he never would have been close to the position, but here he had a chance—or so he thought.

He watches the male step closer to Heda, flicking his attention to Wildfire and then, finally, to Portia as it shifts to the stranger at the border. He knows little about the incident, but a death had occurred, and their leader further marked to prove it. He’d been there for the others, though blind to the four other fresh ones marked upon her, and he recalls his own set in a place of intimacy of his family. When the task has finished, he lifts his head a little to wear the same pride as the others within their clan, strengthening the bond between them all.

Dio was promoted to the leadership tier — a man she was familiar with. Though their time spent together had been short she remembered him well enough. She held no qualms about Heda's judgment. If he did not deserve she would not have bestowed the honor upon him. Eske's interested returned, however, when Thuringwethil spoke of the Grounder tradition of marking for kills and her blood buzzed with unbidden and sudden excitement. The Grounder Princess was far from squeamish and she watched with fascination as Portia ghosted forward to mark Heda's flesh with rough stone. Her pupils widened in their pools of blue-green sea glass as she admired the newest mark to mar Heda's flesh. In a breathless moment she craned her neck to study her own shoulder, untouched as the day she was born. Utterly flawless. Too flawless. She wanted to bear the kill marks, too. She poked her tongue out in concentration as she tried to imagine how much of a badass she would look like if she, too, bore the kill tally. Fiercely, as Eske felt everything, she wanted tally marks just like Heda. Her tongue drew across her jowls as her gaze returned to Heda, eager.