Candle welcomed Zoug with a tired smile, a gentle beckoning for him to look; look at these children we made, look at how perfect they are. For a little while she only let him inspect their pups as closely as he dared. Her own gaze hardly strayed from them.
Dark-furred, all of them; nearly impossible to distinguish from one another for now. Even so, she knew each of them. Two daughters and two sons. In the quiet of her mind, she gave them names.
Names were not given in the House of the Gods. A name was a privilege earned through devotion; through sacrifice.
These names were a gift.
The House stood abandoned now, its priestesses scattered to the winds. And so many of her sisters had given their lives for these freedoms; was that not sacrifice enough? Their lives, worth a thousand names, a thousand generations to follow those who had survived.
The gift of song to her firstborn, The Dunesinger, Weaver of the Collective Dream.
The gift of light to her second, The Daybreaker, Seeker of the Rising Sun.
The gift of grace to her third, The Cavetreader, Teller of the Final Dark.
The gift of hope to her last, The Rainteller, Seer of the Endless Spring.
The Tribe would never address them by these names. In time they would have others, perhaps Clan names from their father — but this was Candle's gift to them, that they would never need to sacrifice themselves to become whole. The Gods would know them as they were: unburdened, unblemished. Candle knew that her sisters would have smiled to see it.
After a time she gathered her strength once more and called out a soft invitation to @Sari and @Koa. Those who were most trusted would be allowed to see the newborns, though Candle wouldn't let them quite as close as Zoug. Not yet.
Dark-furred, all of them; nearly impossible to distinguish from one another for now. Even so, she knew each of them. Two daughters and two sons. In the quiet of her mind, she gave them names.
Names were not given in the House of the Gods. A name was a privilege earned through devotion; through sacrifice.
These names were a gift.
The House stood abandoned now, its priestesses scattered to the winds. And so many of her sisters had given their lives for these freedoms; was that not sacrifice enough? Their lives, worth a thousand names, a thousand generations to follow those who had survived.
The gift of song to her firstborn, The Dunesinger, Weaver of the Collective Dream.
The gift of light to her second, The Daybreaker, Seeker of the Rising Sun.
The gift of grace to her third, The Cavetreader, Teller of the Final Dark.
The gift of hope to her last, The Rainteller, Seer of the Endless Spring.
The Tribe would never address them by these names. In time they would have others, perhaps Clan names from their father — but this was Candle's gift to them, that they would never need to sacrifice themselves to become whole. The Gods would know them as they were: unburdened, unblemished. Candle knew that her sisters would have smiled to see it.
After a time she gathered her strength once more and called out a soft invitation to @Sari and @Koa. Those who were most trusted would be allowed to see the newborns, though Candle wouldn't let them quite as close as Zoug. Not yet.
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RE: Clan - by Candle - March 10, 2024, 12:53 PM