[PRP] Something Wicker This Way Comes (Wicker/Ceremony)

[Samuel Carlin]

It was late. Later than any sensible creature would be stirring in the deep darkness between trees in the nearly-unknown depths of the forest. Here, a lizard might dare scurry from a cooling rock back to its den, but nothing larger would willingly make a sound. Not if it hoped to survive.

Here, silence was of the essence when darker forces began to stir. When the trees creaked and groaned as if breathing, as if trying to uproot themselves. Here where some of the trees did indeed open eyes like glowing embers and lifted unexpected faces to scent the night air.

Or was it a tree at all?

No. Not entirely. The creature that now passed between trees, on the hunt, on the prowl, moved with a swaying step like a lumbering tree, the crack of a massive hoof coning down on stone setting off a sharp ricochet of echoed noise all around him, but he was no tree. There was wit and will and wicked intent that moved him, drove him forward, and fueled the fire that burned in his gut.

wc=183  

[Lunadriel]

Things in the forest went still as a sharp noise ricochets through the forest. Where bug or beast once stirred, all had gone silent. The air thick with quiet as everything hid from the things that went bump in the night.

A thick fog began budding across the land, in an unnatural blanket. As if it poured from the wet, moist earth of the forest. Dense, and uninviting.

Through it all, a voice began to echo, cutting through the silence.

Eerie, dreary, bristly night. Fill my soul with dark delight.
Sticky sweetie, Black brings fright. O' beware her stinging bite!

Some might think them a doggerel of nonsense words. To the voice that spoke them they made perfect sense.

Ceremony slithered through the fog, basket at her side. Humming the rest of the tune. She waltzed right up to where the sound from earlier might of originated. Acting unawares that there might be an audience there. Unhooking the basket strapped at her side, she set it down with a plunk. The contents, fragrant with an iron tang. She chuckled to herself mid hum, and slipped her nose under the drab cloth that lay across the basket. Talking, with her nose tucked under, she spoke, to no one in particular. "It's not sharp, but it does what it needs." she said to herself. Her basket squelched as she moved some things around, and withdrew a small knife. A gleam in her eye, as she leaned to the ground and began to hack at clumps of lichen. She stabbed her knife in the ground, tucked her moist clod of green on top of the cloth in her basket. Then paused at the knife, her eyes turning to a feline gaze. She hummed. "Mmmm, don't be shy now." she called into the dark, then turned back as she scooped up the knife and dropped it back in her basket. Who she might be talking to, up to the interpretation of those she knew were nearby.  

[Samuel Carlin]

Oh, the mare had an audience, whether she knew it or not. And, it seemed, she did indeed, if her invitation meant anything at all. She'd already spent some time speaking to, or into, the intriguing basket she carried. Perhaps she'd brought more company. Perhaps she was mad. Either could suit.

So the stag stepped out of deeper shadow and let himself be seen, glowing as he did with the rise and dimming of firelight.

"Who are you? And what do you mean to take our of my forest?" His deep voice rumbled through the night, making the fog that still surrounded them twist and seem to writhe in response.  

[Lunadriel]

Ceremony might be quite mad indeed. Always doing things her own way, without letting reasonable judgement contribute to her motives. Where was the fun in not taking risks? She grinned a wicked grin, as the voice boomed behind her. "Oh!" she pipped up, without turning. "Your forest ehh?" she said with a voice that cracked and rasped. "I wasn't familiar with the notion that it had an owner." then her air changed, and she turned her neck to look at him. "What's it like to own a forest? Oooooo." she said standing to go right up to the soq that towered there, positively draconic in size, compared to Ceremony's normal stature. "Why, you look like you were grown here, molded by the very roots!" she said, then cackled, with a raspy noise. "Hmmmm--hmm hmm.." she hummed at him, with a bit of the laugh lingering in the noise. Though her bangs covered most of her face, her eyes peered out, filled with wonder. Oh he was very interesting. She had heard tale of a wooded Soquili, like a scary story you told to frighten kids. It had only left Ceremony besotted with the idea an oddity like that existing. She had come to the forest before, and didn't find him. Tonight, she had! And it left her almost giddy with curiosity. She had to reign herself in from waltzing up and begging to poke and prod at him, to see what made him tick!  

[Samuel Carlin]

She was a bold mare indeed, abd there was something to be Saud for a touch of confidence or the lack of any sense. He was more familiar wirh those who caught a glimpse of him and went Haring off into the trees in a vain attempt to escape him. He lived for whispers about hin, the bane of the forest.

Abd yet here she stood, daring to meet his eyes like a besotted fool. Excellent.

"I was born here," he told her. "Yes. molded by the roots, witness to the budding and withering of the leaves, the thriving and dying of all things that live below the soil and beneath the bark. The forest may be older, but it is mine."

And she still hadn't explained her presence. "All things within these boundaries are mine to claim. If you wish something for yourself, what do you give me in trade?"  

[Lunadriel]

Ceremony beamed a dark grin at the entity before her. Whatever pre-conceived notion she had about how he was, he was even better than that! His very words, scalding with threat, that she did not miss. Perhaps she was foolish, but mostly, she was fearless. The things that brought fear to others, were the very things she found fascinating! Always about trading and experimenting to find out how to use the things she found, to her benefit. The fact that he brought up trade first? Oh she liked the way he worked! Yes, she came prepared! This might work out better than she had anticipated. If it didn't? Well, nobody lived forever, and she would have no regrets if this is where she found her end.

She continued to stare at him, wordless for a pause, as if day-dreaming. Beneath that stare, Ceremony savored the moment, the doom that hung around the beast in front of her. Wanting to give suspense, just a pinch, to see if he ruptured with anger. Fed up with her being in his space. In her mind, he could level the forest if he did.

"Oh, where are my manners!" she cut in before that dark thought could root further. She did want to survive after all. Her voice sugary sweet.

She tottered over to her basket, humming. First she placed a small animal, kind of messy. "Hmm." she debated, looking up and sizing up her customer. "No no, not that one. Perhaps? Yes, that one instead." Turning back to her loot, she rummaged around. She sung, low as she rooted around.

Dribble, dribble, drip and drop.
Wiggle, squiggle, once it's caught.
Filled with red, nice and hot!
What lies beneath? A life forgot!

From beneath her basket, she pulled out a small critter. The mouth caught in a scream, yet no other marks seeming to be found. In her mouth, she placed it as she hummed around it's warmth. Then spread it out, as if laying the perfect prize.

"Wait!" she interrupted when done. Then she laid out a third trade, enchanted, and up to the interpretation of those that looked at it. She didn't think that this would fool him at all, but more than she wanted to show off her skills. She, the type to show her full hand without hesitation when she knew the game couldn't be played against him. She supposed she could luck out and the feline beneath the spell be something he actually craved.

She shrugged. "Well. Aren't those nice? A sweet, treat, for you to keep."  

[Samuel Carlin]

This mare. There was something different about this mare. Was it bravery? Bravado at the very least. Bravado could be tested, but there wasn't much need of that when she pur on such a show. Many others had fled at the first shuddering tremor of his approach. She, however, seemed emboldened by facing off against him.

Well then.

With a slow-to-spread smile like an oversized feline, with the scalding heat of his eyes somewhat dimmed as he considered her, her song, and the things she laid oyr before him, the great stag moved forward again, joints cracking and snapping like branches breaking and reformed.

He lowered his head to the ruptured mess of a thing, whatever it had been. Small and unimpressive in anyway except the violence of its end. The second creature, frozen in it's last moment of terror, that was more satisfying to the beast who studied it. A reminder of the halcyon days of his first awakening when the air was a near constant wash of fear and forced quiet. Good, that was good.

And then? What was this? An enchantment? A *trick*? No. A boast. perhaps. He lifted his head quickly, a sharp exhalation of air that shattered the night air again.

"Magic??"

Lunadriel

 

[Lunadriel]

Ceremony watched that grin, and the observation he gave to her meaty treasures. An offering to the mighty God-like beast. A halcyon to the golden years, when sacrifices were made to tide over those that would otherwise bring harm to you. Those were the days Ceremony should of been born. Striking fear into the masses, to get them to bring you gifts. Offerings of annual crops, or even their young in extreme cases. If she had some spare youth, she'd offer one now, for a chance to get a piece of the branches that grew from the giant before her.

As he looked at her third prize, he didn't seem to keen on it. A hot huff sliced through the night, as he asked her if it was magic. Unsure at what the tone meant. Ceremony didn't get a chance to ponder. The cat that was enchanted, fear stricken at the one who inspected it. It shook off the enchantment, slowly going from resembling something else, back to a black cat. It hissed, arching it's back, then attempted to run away so quick, you could hear it's claw rip the earth.

Ceremony hissed back at the cat. "Well, guess it wasn't dead. Resilient. I like that." she thought after it. She'd hunt that cat down and run more tests on it. she had brain washed and poisoned enough for it to think it was another animal. To the point where it even resembled the shape of other things. "Magic? Not so much it would seem." she huffed. "Pssh posh. I worked so hard to manipulate it's mind." she rambled, then stopped. Feeling that if she continued to vent, it would be the bane of her existence as that what listened could cut her short.

She sat there, taking him in, almost pouting at the cat that had ran away. It had really ruined her display!  

[Samuel Carlin]

If the massive stag had had any pre-conceived notions about how this night's wandering would go, they were all discarded now.

It might seem to her that he'd missed the appraising look she gave him. His attention for now at least, was certainly focused on the odd little cat-not-a-cat cutting its way through the shadows as it ran from the pair. Whatever it might have been originally, whatever it truly was now, it surely still answered to the call to survive. Clever creature.

And so was she. Now, with the sound of creaking wood, the stag looked back to the mare, meeting and holding that expectant gaze. "Did you come looking for me? Are you pleased with what you have found?" That, of course, was a matter of interpretatuon but from where he stood, she seemed quite pleased with herself.

"You have entertained me enough to convince me to spare you. For now," he clarified, his already sonorous voice dropping into a nearly draconic rumble. "What shall I contribute, that you mightremember me?"

--


Zanzibar had, perhaps, chosen the wrong night to go hunting specimens, as the low-lying fog made keeping his hooves out of gnarled roots and tangled underbrush harder than he'd imagined. He'd already stumbled a tine ir two. If he'd only thought to bring a lantern...

But then something broke through the brush ahead of him, hissing and spitting as it went. Zanzibar had no time to startle or flinch. Whatever it had been, whether cat or fox or something in between, it had clearly been fleeing *something*, and *that* was where Zanzibar was drawn to go. Toward the unexpected or, some might say, unwise. Regardless, he turned in the direction the creature had most likely come and started that way.

Was that a glow he saw in the distance?

(wc=133)

Lunadriel

 

[Lunadriel]

Cremony's eyes squinted from the devilish grin she gave in response to the underlying threat he gave her. She didn't doubt that he meant every word. White teeth gleamed at the prospect of getting something in return for not dying, at this moment. Her mind pondered so many things. One thing she wanted though, was to be able to see him again. This meet her growing itch to know everything about him. Curiosity taught the witch many things.

A name? There lay power in a name. Which is why she hadn't dropped hers the moment she arrived, like so many empty headed Soq tended to do. Oh no. Not that she wouldn't give it, but she liked to hold on to that bit of power longer than most.

Weighing her trade, she dare not ask for the bigger prizes.

Before she had more time to even ponder, she heard someone approach from the direction the uncooperative victim of hers had ran. Ceremony met the glowing embers of the stallion before her. Knowing he would sense it too.

She gave him a look, with a smirk. It would seem they had company. Being not the first to speak, she watched, seeing what he would do in response. Observing.  

[Samuel Carlin]

The stag had, of course, sensed this new arrival, felt him stepping as carefully as he could over the forest's reaching roots. He swung his heavy head toward the newcomer and exhaled a low, pleased grunt of sound. Day and daylight were concepts that were nebulous at best to him, but this could certainly count as day-dreaming cone true.

It was true, there were those who made annual trips to bring hin gifts and try to find him. Perhaps the mare would become one of those. Even those visits rarely happened two at a tine.

He cut hus gaze toward the mare then let it swing back to the aporiaching stranger. "Shall we two hunt tonight, side by side and quiet as the wind? Or shall we chase this fool and drink his fright as he meets his necessary end?" The doggerel flowed from the hulking beast as if he'd been just *waiting* to say those words.

--

Further in, further in... Zanzubar kept walking, avoiding the worst of the snares underhoof. The deeper he pushed, though, the more oppressive the forest felt. Was he being watched? Oh yes. That much was ckear. He could feel eyes on him, but whose?

A misstep, and a twig beneath him cracked sharply. Somehow the sound seemed to clear the fog away, and Zanzibar realized that the watchers were far closer than he could have imagined.

There was a mare there, not easy to see in the shadows between trees, especially given her markings. Beside her, the largest... was he actually carved from a tree?! No, those were definitely eyes and the glow Zanzibar was following seemed to cone from inside him!

The markings on his coat flared with glowing blue light and he took a step backward. "I didn't mean to intrude..."
(wc 133+142=275)

Lunadriel

 

[Lunadriel]

Warning: Some mention of blood, if that makes you queasy!

Ceremony drank in his rhyming words. Like a spell cast over her. If it possible, she liked this majestic dark oak of a stallion, even more. The pleasure given to her to choose what they might do next, a gift she did not expect. A fire filled her with the nights shift in a direction she would most enjoy. It almost made her want to summon him. Almost. That thought about not playing all your cards at once? Playing her biggest trump card would leave her empty handed. But it would be fun. "Oh why not. Why shouldn't we have all the fun. At this trespassers expense." She let her bangs fall over her mouth, and began to whisper an eerie tune. If one language, it's four, the words that broke from her throat. Imagining the words, the song, as they took shape in her mind. The words blending together and rising in crescendo. Still shadowed by her hair, so you couldn't see the shape of the words she spoke. Some sounded backwards, guttural, or altogether impossible to sound.

Then the song stops and the night goes perfectly still.

A long grin spreads underneath the black of her hair. A craze look in her eyes. As she looks to the barked stag, blood trickles from her mouth. A price paid for forked words. If she could speak, she'd warn him to have no fear, or he might fall prey to that which she summoned, as well as the intended target. That would be most unfortunate indeed. Yet, she did not think he would waiver.

Looking over towards the winged stallion as he waltzed into hell, she gave him a red toothed grin, and cackled at him.

In the distance, a large thud of earth being trampled could be heard. Her cackle increased, as the sound grew closer. That laugh gargled by the blood from her tongue.