Titles are not my strong suit.
Please excuse any errors, muddiness, or inconsistency. I have done 0 editing to this since I started writing this afternoon. This is hot off my brain press as I work through what my experiences and change of flight as a player does for my clan lore.
"Are you sure?" Elawokazha gripped what used to be a neatly folded green and gold sash in her foreclaws and looked down on her kunana with an anxious face. Sinka looked up at her granddaughter and Karazha to her daughter. The two strong guardian females, stripped of their apparel and whining familiars sitting by the knotted jungle altar, regarded the young imperial closely. She had been such trouble in her fledgling years and come to such heretical conclusions about life, growth, and what the truth of the world was supposed to be. For the longest time they had both been relieved she left to study the wider world. It meant the wild ecologist was out of their scales and not worrying the neighbors by taking their hatchlings on local "adventures"; teaching them everything she knew. But slowly their clan grew and they become less connected to their multicultural members. Ela returned several times, sometimes bringing new devotees, sometimes making them herself (much to their relief, as they began to believe the little princess would never settle for any drake let alone a permanent mate). Each time she came back she was wiser, calmer, more considerate, more organized. The neighboring clans loved when she took their hatchlings for play days. They always came back at least tired if not a little smarter. And one day, the last time she had returned, she brought home a male from the Sunbeam Ruins. A bit bookish and shy, not quite the warrior Liizhu had envisioned for a proper consort to a clan Lady, but they adored each other and stuck together thick and thin. The clan naturally gravitated towards them and their work on cataloging the world's life; leaning farther away from their humble progenitors.
"Yes," said Karazha as Sinka looked away in the direction of The Behemoth's canopy. "Its past our time. We have greater work to do." Ela's ears drooped and long whiskers twitched as she cocked her head to the side with a sorrowful muzzle. She looked to her sire, a shy little wind tundra - much like Asakiiran when she thought about it - who had just shrugged off his silvery jacket to lay it on the alter.
"Iinu? You want to go to the Lady, not the Windsinger?" she asked. Seeker smiled softly and reared up tall on his back legs as Ela bent nearly double to lean down into a nose-kiss.
“I want to go where my love goes. The Singer hatched me but the Lady raised me. I owe her everything,” he said quietly and continued to smile up at his increasingly sad daughter. Kara rumbled softly behind them, her confident mask of a face unshaken but clearly touched by the words of her mate. Ela opened her mouth to plead but shut it again. Her father certainly wasn't a hard man, but he was decisive. She swung to her to her grandfather.
“Iinunu?” she crowed. The scarred old warrior looked back, his skull helm off for the first time since she could remember, and cracked a smile. Ela huddled lower and started to whine like a hatchling but a warm kiss brushed against her wing and she froze. Asakiiran stood curved around her, his pale yellow tail curled around hers. She tilted her head towards him with a whimper and he nuzzled her jaw.
“Ell-La,” Sinka said with her thick accent and stepped away from the altar.
“Unn! Ze?” she snapped her head back forward, locked eyes with the green dragon, and responded in their clan tongue.
“My taim, our taim, ints done.” She sat back on her haunches and looked intently up at Ela, her golden crown the only thing left on. “We'z done wat der is. Now, LaSaenlinos needz ahs.” The matriarch leaned forward and laid a warm, rough, rock hard forepaw against the shimmering blue chest of her granddaughter. “You are all we 'ave done.” Ela drew a deep, shaky breath. “You are deh claan, you will leed az ah-ee wold.” Ela felt the comforting nose against her wing again and closed her eyes. Sinka stretched up and touched noses with a sigh. “Eaha shipu. Deh warld iz yours.” She reared and Ela immediately bent lower for her. The guardian's forepaws gently cupped the Imperial's cheeks and Sinka gave her granddaughter a loving lick from her nose to her forehead just like she did to all the members of her clan as chicks.
“Kunana,” she whimpered. “Shiamu shipuni.”
“Toto shiamu,” she whispered back as her wing wrists gripped the crown on her head and transferred it to the new queen. Ela looked up in surprise but Sinka was already turning away towards the altar.
“Are we ready?” asked Karazha with a talon near a set of simple little amber pendants laid out on a bed of flowers.
“Ze,” grunted Sinka, and Liizhu simply grunted in agreement as he stood. The four donned the charms and looked towards the Behemoth through a break in the canopy. Sinka stepped up on the altar, the other three taking up flight positions behind her, but one foot hesitated in the air and Ela perked up. “Ankepazhu,” she bugled into the air for the clan and region to hear. “Lahv guide you all!” Her foot touched to the altar, their pendants flared to life, and all were engulfed in shimmering waves of power as they launched off into the sky with indraconic speed to meet their Mother. Ela lurched forward and roared after them with all the desperation of one whose full love had gone unsaid. Asakiiran gave a sing-song wail of farewell. Kawonte trumpeted after her grand and great grandparents, her mate Parezhu joined her. Eletaa called as loudly as she could through her tears after her parents and grandparents, but Mukazhu lifted his strong voice for her. Soon the forest rang with clan-wide dragon song of sorrow and love but also new beginnings.
It was Asakiiran's nose that once again broke Ela's mood and she slumped back on her haunches to hang her head. A little twang from her horns made her jump as the crown slipped from her head and she cried. Both imperials scrambled to save it but in their intertwined position saw it fall out of quick reach. A golden-red dart whipped past and the crown stopped before their eyes with little Reczhani wrapped around it and her wings buzzing under the weight. Asakiiran quickly put a nose under it for support and Ela barked a relieved sighed.
“Let me see, let me see!” grumped Mukazhu as he plodded up to them, who always sounded like a grump even when happy. Sinka had always blamed it on all those years of forge smoke. He stuck his nose directly up to the offending jewelry and glared at it cross eyed while snuffling. “Yes, yes, will need adjustment – very good, she used padding – not a difficult fix, not at all.” He looked up and nodded his head so his amber glasses could fall back over his fire-orange eyes. “Fits just right, never falls off again, even in barrel rolls!” Ela gave a small involuntary chuck and smile.
“Thank you, Muka,” she crooned. The snapper smiled and shifted his stout front feet back and forth a few times in his pleased dance.
“Ela,” the soft voice of her mate pulled her full attention. Asakiiran's whiskers twitched in a few adorable little shivers around the crown in his mouth, just like they did when he was slightly embarrassed, and she could see his eyes under his dusty traveling hat shifting towards their clan; all of them watching. But he swallowed hard, looked to her, and placed the crown back on her head. She ducked under the weight of it for a moment but took a deep breath and lifted herself up to a proper sitting posture. “Shall we go?” She glanced to the clan for a moment, her eyes skimmed over them, and she could see many were already packed. There had been a lot of talk in the days after the announcement, most of it centered around leaving. Ela's work, after her family, was the world to her and there had been some rumblings of discontent in the labyrinth. Not all of them were aimed at her or the activities of her clan, but once upon a time she had gained the nickname “heretic” for a reason. She loved the Gladekeeper, but some of the gladepeople were not for her or her multicultural clan.
“Kiiran,” she whimpered low, looking back to him. “I... I don't know what I'm doing.”
“No one does,” he answered so immediately and confidently that she flinched back and cocked her head. He snorted and smiled. “The books taught me that, at least, before I left the Ruins.” She couldn't help but grin and touch noses with him. “'Sides, just do what Sinka said.” His tail nudged her hands and she looked down. There, twisted up in the knots of her emotion, was the gold and green sash she had taken from her grandmother when they first came to the altar and started preparing for the exaltation. Love guide you all.
Ela swung her head around to her first born, Kawonte. “Have the cuttings all been done and the garden uprooted for transplant?” The twigs, bushes, and satchels of partially wilted plants on her and Parezhu's backs were testament enough but the young imperial nodded with a serious face.
“All inventory has been labeled, organized, and distributed,” said the tremulous, airy voice of Iunyzha and she stood from the group to nod to Ela. Singmolii pranced nervously at the actions of his weak-bodied mate. Ela smiled and nodded back.
“I have all my scrolls and runes and reagents,” piped Muzha, nearly buried in the things he named strapped to his back. “I will want for nothing if we must stop and such arcanery is need!”
“Ye'll want fer a back by tha time we're on wing iffn yew don drop somthin,” gruffed Reczhu from the back. A laughed rippled through the clan and Muzha gave a dignified harumph. Ela giggled and pressed her nose to the sash.
“Love guide us all,” she sighed into the familial scent through her last few tears, then stood and tied it about her waist. “We're ready then?” she called over them.
“UN, ZE,” they cried back in unison; all smiles though tears still fell.
“To wing!” Everything in her coiled and released into a running leap and all turned to follow; hopping, bounding, stampeding through the glens. Parezhu was the first to catch up and speed past, a consummate forest runner as a wildclaw. Others could be seen in her periphery, taking their own paths through the jungle growth but always following her direction. Asakiiran bounded along right at her side and just a touch behind. Dragon calls began to sound all through the growth, questioning the strange movement. The Sunshadow Channel loomed before them through the trees and vines, and the grassy break before the beach leapt out as Ela lifted her voice once more in farewell and spread her wings. The clan followed suit and leapt to the wing in neat formation; just as if they were going out to gather for the day but this time intending not to return.
It was only a momentary pause but the forest burst with calls of goodbye and sadness – and a few of territorial aggression, but they were drowned out. Ela kept up her calls, rising over the ocean and banking the formation to put the Behemoth on her right wing. The familiar fuzzy green island of all the times she had come and gone. Studying this, bringing home that. She blinked as the wind pulled at her fresh tears and let a mourning call build in her throat as she examined the Behemoth like never before. Letting the last wail die from her, she turned her face to the northwest and the marble sliver of the Pillar of the World on the horizon.
Their backs to the labyrinth, an earth shaking, air rippling call rose after them and the Behemoth shook Her goodbyes.
Please excuse any errors, muddiness, or inconsistency. I have done 0 editing to this since I started writing this afternoon. This is hot off my brain press as I work through what my experiences and change of flight as a player does for my clan lore.
"Are you sure?" Elawokazha gripped what used to be a neatly folded green and gold sash in her foreclaws and looked down on her kunana with an anxious face. Sinka looked up at her granddaughter and Karazha to her daughter. The two strong guardian females, stripped of their apparel and whining familiars sitting by the knotted jungle altar, regarded the young imperial closely. She had been such trouble in her fledgling years and come to such heretical conclusions about life, growth, and what the truth of the world was supposed to be. For the longest time they had both been relieved she left to study the wider world. It meant the wild ecologist was out of their scales and not worrying the neighbors by taking their hatchlings on local "adventures"; teaching them everything she knew. But slowly their clan grew and they become less connected to their multicultural members. Ela returned several times, sometimes bringing new devotees, sometimes making them herself (much to their relief, as they began to believe the little princess would never settle for any drake let alone a permanent mate). Each time she came back she was wiser, calmer, more considerate, more organized. The neighboring clans loved when she took their hatchlings for play days. They always came back at least tired if not a little smarter. And one day, the last time she had returned, she brought home a male from the Sunbeam Ruins. A bit bookish and shy, not quite the warrior Liizhu had envisioned for a proper consort to a clan Lady, but they adored each other and stuck together thick and thin. The clan naturally gravitated towards them and their work on cataloging the world's life; leaning farther away from their humble progenitors.
"Yes," said Karazha as Sinka looked away in the direction of The Behemoth's canopy. "Its past our time. We have greater work to do." Ela's ears drooped and long whiskers twitched as she cocked her head to the side with a sorrowful muzzle. She looked to her sire, a shy little wind tundra - much like Asakiiran when she thought about it - who had just shrugged off his silvery jacket to lay it on the alter.
"Iinu? You want to go to the Lady, not the Windsinger?" she asked. Seeker smiled softly and reared up tall on his back legs as Ela bent nearly double to lean down into a nose-kiss.
“I want to go where my love goes. The Singer hatched me but the Lady raised me. I owe her everything,” he said quietly and continued to smile up at his increasingly sad daughter. Kara rumbled softly behind them, her confident mask of a face unshaken but clearly touched by the words of her mate. Ela opened her mouth to plead but shut it again. Her father certainly wasn't a hard man, but he was decisive. She swung to her to her grandfather.
“Iinunu?” she crowed. The scarred old warrior looked back, his skull helm off for the first time since she could remember, and cracked a smile. Ela huddled lower and started to whine like a hatchling but a warm kiss brushed against her wing and she froze. Asakiiran stood curved around her, his pale yellow tail curled around hers. She tilted her head towards him with a whimper and he nuzzled her jaw.
“Ell-La,” Sinka said with her thick accent and stepped away from the altar.
“Unn! Ze?” she snapped her head back forward, locked eyes with the green dragon, and responded in their clan tongue.
“My taim, our taim, ints done.” She sat back on her haunches and looked intently up at Ela, her golden crown the only thing left on. “We'z done wat der is. Now, LaSaenlinos needz ahs.” The matriarch leaned forward and laid a warm, rough, rock hard forepaw against the shimmering blue chest of her granddaughter. “You are all we 'ave done.” Ela drew a deep, shaky breath. “You are deh claan, you will leed az ah-ee wold.” Ela felt the comforting nose against her wing again and closed her eyes. Sinka stretched up and touched noses with a sigh. “Eaha shipu. Deh warld iz yours.” She reared and Ela immediately bent lower for her. The guardian's forepaws gently cupped the Imperial's cheeks and Sinka gave her granddaughter a loving lick from her nose to her forehead just like she did to all the members of her clan as chicks.
“Kunana,” she whimpered. “Shiamu shipuni.”
“Toto shiamu,” she whispered back as her wing wrists gripped the crown on her head and transferred it to the new queen. Ela looked up in surprise but Sinka was already turning away towards the altar.
“Are we ready?” asked Karazha with a talon near a set of simple little amber pendants laid out on a bed of flowers.
“Ze,” grunted Sinka, and Liizhu simply grunted in agreement as he stood. The four donned the charms and looked towards the Behemoth through a break in the canopy. Sinka stepped up on the altar, the other three taking up flight positions behind her, but one foot hesitated in the air and Ela perked up. “Ankepazhu,” she bugled into the air for the clan and region to hear. “Lahv guide you all!” Her foot touched to the altar, their pendants flared to life, and all were engulfed in shimmering waves of power as they launched off into the sky with indraconic speed to meet their Mother. Ela lurched forward and roared after them with all the desperation of one whose full love had gone unsaid. Asakiiran gave a sing-song wail of farewell. Kawonte trumpeted after her grand and great grandparents, her mate Parezhu joined her. Eletaa called as loudly as she could through her tears after her parents and grandparents, but Mukazhu lifted his strong voice for her. Soon the forest rang with clan-wide dragon song of sorrow and love but also new beginnings.
It was Asakiiran's nose that once again broke Ela's mood and she slumped back on her haunches to hang her head. A little twang from her horns made her jump as the crown slipped from her head and she cried. Both imperials scrambled to save it but in their intertwined position saw it fall out of quick reach. A golden-red dart whipped past and the crown stopped before their eyes with little Reczhani wrapped around it and her wings buzzing under the weight. Asakiiran quickly put a nose under it for support and Ela barked a relieved sighed.
“Let me see, let me see!” grumped Mukazhu as he plodded up to them, who always sounded like a grump even when happy. Sinka had always blamed it on all those years of forge smoke. He stuck his nose directly up to the offending jewelry and glared at it cross eyed while snuffling. “Yes, yes, will need adjustment – very good, she used padding – not a difficult fix, not at all.” He looked up and nodded his head so his amber glasses could fall back over his fire-orange eyes. “Fits just right, never falls off again, even in barrel rolls!” Ela gave a small involuntary chuck and smile.
“Thank you, Muka,” she crooned. The snapper smiled and shifted his stout front feet back and forth a few times in his pleased dance.
“Ela,” the soft voice of her mate pulled her full attention. Asakiiran's whiskers twitched in a few adorable little shivers around the crown in his mouth, just like they did when he was slightly embarrassed, and she could see his eyes under his dusty traveling hat shifting towards their clan; all of them watching. But he swallowed hard, looked to her, and placed the crown back on her head. She ducked under the weight of it for a moment but took a deep breath and lifted herself up to a proper sitting posture. “Shall we go?” She glanced to the clan for a moment, her eyes skimmed over them, and she could see many were already packed. There had been a lot of talk in the days after the announcement, most of it centered around leaving. Ela's work, after her family, was the world to her and there had been some rumblings of discontent in the labyrinth. Not all of them were aimed at her or the activities of her clan, but once upon a time she had gained the nickname “heretic” for a reason. She loved the Gladekeeper, but some of the gladepeople were not for her or her multicultural clan.
“Kiiran,” she whimpered low, looking back to him. “I... I don't know what I'm doing.”
“No one does,” he answered so immediately and confidently that she flinched back and cocked her head. He snorted and smiled. “The books taught me that, at least, before I left the Ruins.” She couldn't help but grin and touch noses with him. “'Sides, just do what Sinka said.” His tail nudged her hands and she looked down. There, twisted up in the knots of her emotion, was the gold and green sash she had taken from her grandmother when they first came to the altar and started preparing for the exaltation. Love guide you all.
Ela swung her head around to her first born, Kawonte. “Have the cuttings all been done and the garden uprooted for transplant?” The twigs, bushes, and satchels of partially wilted plants on her and Parezhu's backs were testament enough but the young imperial nodded with a serious face.
“All inventory has been labeled, organized, and distributed,” said the tremulous, airy voice of Iunyzha and she stood from the group to nod to Ela. Singmolii pranced nervously at the actions of his weak-bodied mate. Ela smiled and nodded back.
“I have all my scrolls and runes and reagents,” piped Muzha, nearly buried in the things he named strapped to his back. “I will want for nothing if we must stop and such arcanery is need!”
“Ye'll want fer a back by tha time we're on wing iffn yew don drop somthin,” gruffed Reczhu from the back. A laughed rippled through the clan and Muzha gave a dignified harumph. Ela giggled and pressed her nose to the sash.
“Love guide us all,” she sighed into the familial scent through her last few tears, then stood and tied it about her waist. “We're ready then?” she called over them.
“UN, ZE,” they cried back in unison; all smiles though tears still fell.
“To wing!” Everything in her coiled and released into a running leap and all turned to follow; hopping, bounding, stampeding through the glens. Parezhu was the first to catch up and speed past, a consummate forest runner as a wildclaw. Others could be seen in her periphery, taking their own paths through the jungle growth but always following her direction. Asakiiran bounded along right at her side and just a touch behind. Dragon calls began to sound all through the growth, questioning the strange movement. The Sunshadow Channel loomed before them through the trees and vines, and the grassy break before the beach leapt out as Ela lifted her voice once more in farewell and spread her wings. The clan followed suit and leapt to the wing in neat formation; just as if they were going out to gather for the day but this time intending not to return.
It was only a momentary pause but the forest burst with calls of goodbye and sadness – and a few of territorial aggression, but they were drowned out. Ela kept up her calls, rising over the ocean and banking the formation to put the Behemoth on her right wing. The familiar fuzzy green island of all the times she had come and gone. Studying this, bringing home that. She blinked as the wind pulled at her fresh tears and let a mourning call build in her throat as she examined the Behemoth like never before. Letting the last wail die from her, she turned her face to the northwest and the marble sliver of the Pillar of the World on the horizon.
Their backs to the labyrinth, an earth shaking, air rippling call rose after them and the Behemoth shook Her goodbyes.
