Totoka River ephemeral

the stormborn trailed the listener like a lingering perfume, and the pair drifted across the stark coastal riverscape in smallwrit mimicry of stormclouds overhead. it was @Ingram II and @Morgana they sought; unlikely that they would be found together, so the listener would beckon the first companion they came upon to join them, and begin introductions.

@Rasha will walk with druids, the listener spoke in tones thrumming with dark magick, eager. she has many things to teach. they looked to their acolyte pointedly now. and many things to learn.

as did the listener herself, in truth, though the extent of it remained shrouded to her followers. and always would; they were too close to the truth now to require deception for much longer.

morgana and ingram; can i ask that the second person to join (just between you two) wait until the second round to post? thanks in advance and i'll tag whoever it is a second time when it's your time to shine <3

it is morgana who finds the listener first. and at their side was a spindly woman; her body worn down from whatever hardships she’d face during her life. hardships she’d no need to worry on about, now that she was within the paws of the druids.

welcome, rasha. morgana nodded to her. i look forward to learning of this knowledge you carry.

rasha waited patiently for the druids to arrive.  she was ready to meet the wolves she had committed herself to. 

it is another shadow that is first to arrive.  the listener performs the introductions.  a pointed comment is directed at rasha, and to this she offers a subtle nod.  there would always be more to learn, so long as she was alive.  she would never deny such a thing.

then, the new one speaks.  thank you, she says with a small bow of her head, i am eager to teach you.

the listener hummed their approval, and beckoned to their followers to indicate that they would continue on in search of @Ingram. if the women shared further words, the listener did not know; they heard little beyond the din of a thousand spirit whispers, rough and breathy on her nape and against her ears like the rustle of fabric all around.

keeper, they greeted their ashen guardian when at last he was found, hearing their own voice as if from afar. time moved like melting wax, select details whirring into focus with stark clarity while the rest filtered out in a blur. a bit of rumpled fur atop rasha's proud cheekbone; the cold teal glint of ingram's wary eye; the glitter of sunlight against morgana's silvered hackles. the spirits drew the listener closer, clutching —

rasha has chosen to stay with druids, to teach and learn, what was this strange spell upon her? words became the listener's anchor to reality as she fought the siren call of the otherworld. ingram, you will learn from rasha first. she would make him strong, unfeeling; capable of committing the sort of atrocities the druids would ask of him.

the keeper is the last to arrive to greet their newest druid; further away when trikova's call rises.

the listener holds his attention upon the halt of his steps, though his gaze touched morgana and then moved to the one that trikova calls rasha; medium height, leggy, ( a bit? ) underweight pale gold eyes and a myriad of brows, blacks and grays.

yes, listener. ingram rasps; ever her obedient soldier. ingram's gaze slides then from trikova to rasha; observing. rasha, he speaks her name in an offer of greeting all the while committing it to memory. i am eager to learn what you have to teach me. he offers genuinely; more than ready to devote himself wholly into his role as keeper.

greetings were shared, then the listener beckons her druids onward. they went to ingram, the black sheep amongst them. he was made even more of the odd man out with the arrival of rasha.

morgana’s half-lidded gaze switched between the two.

the boy, he knew nothing, unlike the other three. but he’s willing to learn.

had she known of the evil they sought to sow with her practice she might never have shared it with them.  but it was too late for prophet.  already she was beginning to untether herself from all she had known in lieu of the company she chose to keep.  a boy is the last to arrive.  he treats her with respect and reverence.  

she drinks it up.  the good inside her thinks of fighting back but ultimately fails.  fails willingly.  never in her life have her feet felt so worshipped.  a ripple of intensity shrieks through her, grasping hold of every one of her features from the front of her muzzle to the tip of her tail.

good, she says lowly, i will seek you tomorrow at sunrise for zazen.

zazen. the listener grasped the word as a drowning wolf might grasp at a driftwood protrusion from a riverbank. there was no sense in it, but there would be soon, she knew. but she was quickly losing the battle to anchor herself among the realm of the living, and there was no time for more questions.

keeper, with me, she gestured through the haze, turning with a dismissive nod to her other acolytes. speaker, you will tell rasha of our pilgrimage. answer her questions. she did not linger to see her commands carried out, for she knew they would be. the listener took her leave — and when the only other wolf in sight was her keeper, she sank against the ground and closed her eyes, and was still for many hours.

understood. ingram offers rasha; unaware of what the strange word she used meant but understanding that he'd learn on the morrow at sunrise.

when he is called to trikova's side, he answers without hesitation or delay, moving to her side and falling into easy step with her. is it at her side he lingers; lowering himself into a sphinx like position — watchful and vigilant — as she — ingram assumes but does not dare disturb her to find out for sure — falls into a soft slumber.