Blackwater Islands sylvan

cerulean had brought an acolyte to their ranks some weeks ago, yet the listener had found no time to spare for the man until now. he was bereft without his speaker; the woman had departed some days ago to return to akashingo with viridian after a tense and tearful confrontation.

so the listener sought @Ego now, eager to learn what sort of man her second speaker had recruited and the nature of their relationship.

Ego had supplied very little effort to make himself available to the wolves of Blackwater, so in a way the hands off approach of leadership here suited him just fine. He hardly noticed the lack of relationships between himself and the others here, though this was bound to only breed resentment for all involved, sooner or later. Marina's dutiful absences did not make things better...

He did stay on the island this time, however, making it easier for the Listener to unearth Ego's lounging form from among the tangled roots of the grove. He looked up as she approached, and the directness of her blue-and-gold gaze let him know that he was her quarry this evening. The wyvern's ears pressed forward intently, but he did not rise to receive her. Instead, he greeted her with trained neutrality. Listener.

the lackluster nature of his greeting was not lost on the prophet, who took pride in cultivating each druid to her standards — however long it took. for now, she withheld judgment; cerulean had seen worth in him, so the listener would be patient and trust the judgment of her speaker.

ego, she greeted coolly. i understand you are here at the behest of my speaker. it is time we discussed the terms of your stay. while you live on these islands, you must abide the culture of the druids. i will not ask you to become a druid or swear an oath. but all residents of the blackwater islands are under my command... and those who are not ill or injured must choose a role, and contribute. there is always a choice here; if these terms are unacceptable, perhaps you may find the sound preferable to the islands. it lies just beyond the bridge of souls, and would enable convenient visitation for so long as cerulean remains my speaker.

if you find my terms agreeable, we can discuss your role among the druids.

Though small and unintimidating to Ego's eye, there was something otherworldly about the dark sibyl -- something that he could not immediately pinpoint. It was his first time studying her at such a close angle, though the vagrant quickly realized that he would have to stare a great deal more if he wished to see past the shadows of her veil. The Listener stood bony and hunched before him, seeming to hoard a multitude of secrets to her chest.

Carefully, he took in her words and he watched; and for a moment after she was done, he did not answer as he considered what she said. Part of this time was spent pondering over the Listener's use of the name Cerulean.

I appreciate the offer of visitation. But if I am to serve my mate, then I must serve Blackwater, he concluded at length. I shall defer to your customs and choose my role here. He would provide for the Listener and this pack for as long as it benefited him to do so. This, he elected not to say, because the druid seemed shrewd enough to know it without being told.

in the space between her pronouncement and his rejoinder, the listener took careful measure of the acolyte. he seemed to consider her words, his own chosen carefully when he next spoke. many things were left unsaid.

the prophet nodded in silent approval of cerulean's chosen mate. he would serve the druids. and perhaps in time, he would prove useful.

good. the rank of acolyte has been granted to you out of respect for cerulean's rank, but your position here is unique. you have not chosen to become a druid, not yet, perhaps. you will be allowed to work among the initiated, provided you do not seek to learn our secrets. perhaps you would be interested in the work of the thaumaturges, our warriors and protectors. occultists work with prayers and hymns; alchemists with herbs and poisons. any of these paths is open to you.

and should you ever decide to become one of the initiated, i can perhaps offer you a position directly under your mate. a silencer; but would ego be suited to such work?

Thaumaturges.

Occultists.

Alchemists.

Only one of the given paths felt any sort of familiar to him. Ego could perceive no religion, believing in no god but Sandraudiga -- the matriarch of his bloodline -- and using grass to induce vomiting was more or less the extent of his herbal knowledge. The ironwrought male took less time than before to consider his place in Blackwater. I would be well suited for the warrior path. I was raised by warmongers, so it is work I am used to.

He wondered, in all her mysteriousness, if she had known what he would choose.

What does becoming a druid mean? Ego asked. The languishing, stretched-out sphinx was slyly interested. And how would one go about becoming one of the initiated?