Post by Bhaskar on Oct 24, 2010 19:06:18 GMT -7
Cast:
Mridula (Clouded Leopard)
Nithya (Juve. Black Clouded Leopard)
------
Raging River
The river rages here over boulders in frothy rapids flowing from the west and rushing toward east. Its depth and powerful current make it dangerous for all but the largest beasts -- elephant, rhinoceros, water buffalo and guar -- even during the dry season. Regular monsoons cause it to swell regularly, leaving an exposed, vast bed of rock, boulder and sandbars during the dry season. The steep banks outside of this manage to contain most monsoons, held fast by tangly roots of teak, mango, tea, jambul and other trees and well-rooted brush. This east-west stretch of the river marks the northern edge of a rainforest which continues thickly south of here; not far from the river's edge into this forest lurks a massive Banyan tree, not tall but sprawling out over tens of meters. To the north, the trees are thinner and -- during an offshore breeze -- the stank of peat would indicate a marsh to the north. Downstream to the west, the river can be seen taking a bend southward (toward the southwest of here). A stream to the west and a near sub-horizon to the northwest would indicate a possible lake to the northwest.
------
Like a fair number of the Priesthood, Mridula lives close to the heart of the expanse of quilt-like Lon Gi territories. Today, she is at it's very center, perched among a knotwork of intertwining central branches of the great banyan tree. It's one of her favorite places, dark and cool and secluded. The scarred priestess is hanging from one of the branches by her back paws, her plumed and heavy tail draped along the other side and suspended mid-air to serve as a counter-balance. Her poorly-sighted eyes are closed but her ears are pricked. It's an odd position, but one she's always found conducive to gathering her thoughts and grounding herself, a sort of meditative poise.
Over the course of its long, long life, the banyan has seen many gatherings. Presentations, Bondings, Council meetings--it is the closest thing that the Lon Gi have to a central meeting place. Today, however, there will be no ceremonies and no tribesmen to witness them. This area is never quiet, being so close to the river, but it is mostly devoid of clouded leopards. There is only Mridula and, perched on the drooping branch of a neighboring jambul, a small shadow of a cub. He's been observing her meditation for a while now, not commenting, only watching with quiet interest and curiosity.
Mridula is aware her charge is present, she doesn't need to see to know he's there. Smell, sound, sense; all told her some time ago he'd arrived. She does not break her thoughts for him, however. If there was a lesson the boy was to learn first from her it was patience. It is some time yet she remains in this position like some odd statue or branch growth, unmoving and quiet. Only once she's sorted out a few of the thoughts vexing her does she slowly open her eyes, though they serve her far less than familiarity she she twists herself to drop out of the tree and land on the branch below. She turns up her head to face the boy with the brown and black remnants of her ears tipping forward. "So, Nithya, did you find the crane feathers?" She asks, having requested of the boy to seek out two feathers of the striking red, white, and black sarus crane. For what, she hadn't said, only that they would be needed soon.
Most children would start to fidget eventually. Some might complain. Nithya only sits, and, when it becomes evident that Mridula will not stir soon, finally sinks to his stomach in a more comfortable crouch. After a time his eyes close halfway; not meditating, for he really has no idea how the priests do that, but contemplating. Perhaps it's Mridula he beholds, perhaps his own thoughts--it's impossible to say. But he stirs when she does, hearing movement in the branches nearby, and pushes himself up again. His golden eyes peer out at her from the dimness under the canopy, the rest of his body little more than a silhouette. "Yes," he agrees, and then even the reflection of his eyes are gone as he turns to retrieve them. He'd been using his own weight to keep them from blowing off, it looks like, one paw resting on them; and now, with the feathers in his mouth, he races down the limb he'd settled on and jumps across the small gap that separates it from the banyan. He's over within a minute, the two big, banded primaries in tow. How did he get them? That's probably an interesting story.
"Good. This will save us a trip later should the weather begin to turn." Mridula remarks down to her fosterling as he comes close enough to be heard at a more reasonable speaking volume. "We can store them in the hollow. All we should need now is honey, but, that will be at the last moment to ensure it's fresh. We have some time yet before we will need it." She turns to pace slowly along the banyan branches and move back towards it's center. A flick of her tail, with its heavy white band, beckons Nithya to follow. "I hadn't told you what these are for yet, have I? Hm. No, I suppose you were too young, or not even yet born, the last this ceremony was done to even recognize the components for what they are. The ceremony has become too uncommon, I fear."
The boy follows obediently, and now that he's simply walking, not engaging in any of the acrobatics that clouded leopards are so adept at using to get from tree to tree, he may be favoring his left side just a bit. Is there now a sarus crane out there somewhere who's annoyed and missing two flight feathers? Maybe. "Which ceremony is it?" Nithya asks, although, since he's still carrying the feathers, it comes out sounding a bit more like 'whiff ser'mony is it?' He may have had more to say, but, realizing that he won't be able to talk clearly until the feathers are put away, he doesn't speak again.
"The Bonding, little shadow." Mridula says to the young leopard who tags along, nearly as dark as the shadow she casts. "The feathers are an important symbol, for like us the cranes bond for life. Only rarely is a mate ever put aside, so, we honor them for it and use their feathers to represent that kinship." Hopefully, he wasn't too rough with their 'honored' feather donors. To hear the priestess speak of the Bonding makes the leopards familiar with her story but unfamiliar with her flinch, expecting wrath in her voice. She is calm and subdued as she speaks, though, evidence it is not the ritual that holds poor memories for her. "Along with the feathers, the colors blue and red for the female and male, water and flame. Stone, for strength. The bark of the banyan, for longevity. Honey, to represent the sweetness of life, and salt for the bitter sorrows. The egg of a cobra, for numerous young and fertility. ....no, Nithya, the last ingredient I will not send you for. Yet." There is a faint smile passed over her shoulder. "But each has a meaning, and they come together to represent all there is the Bond. We will never experience it, you and I, but it our duty to ensure it holds true and is honored."
Although Nithya makes no further attempt to say anything, with those feathers in the way, he does listen. He's rather good at that even when he doesn't have something to carry around, actually. Chances are he's committing most of that list to memory, too. Not all of it--it usually takes more than one repetition for any cub to learn something--but most of it. If nothing else, he's a studious pupil. Bark, honey, salt...wait, /what/? When Mridula glances back at him his eyes have widened almost imperceptibly, but then she continues and his ears sag back with relief. And maybe just a touch of something else, some deeper, more uncertain emotion. He's too young to have much concept of romantic love, so he can't be terribly disappointed that he's missing out on it, but he knows that the Bonding is something that most Lon Gi do experience, that it's something normal, and there's a part of his mind that can't help but wonder if his parents feel let down that he won't be going through it. "Who," he starts, which comes out 'hoo,' and then gives up. He doesn't want to ruin the barbs!
"Ah, but one doesn't earn a great reward without great risk, hmm?" Mridula says to Nithya, though the lilt of her voice suggests it's a joking tone. She's secretly not a cruel cat. She wouln't terrify or risk youngsters by challenging the wrath of mother cobras. Some lazy priests may use easier-caught eggs, but Mridula is a stickler of the highest order. Anything less just will not do and she's even challenged some of the lazier priests that maybe their short-changing is what's leading to a lack of cubs these days. "Who?" She confirms the question as they reach the core of the banyan. "I believe those next in line are Sabera, daughter of the Turags, and Kavin, son of the Nridevs. If there was ever a need for the strongest and most binding of ceremonies, it will be their's."
In response to that ominous yet light-hearted query, Nithya can only grin. It's a curious expression, genuine and nervous all at once. He both likes and respects Mridula a great deal, as a teacher and a guardian, but he also knows how tight a ship she runs. While her work ethic can only help him in the long run, the thought that he might eventually have to square off with a cobra makes him uneasy. Getting the crane feathers had been bad enough; the bird had smacked him a good one. Reaching the hollow, he carefully tucks the feathers into it and then noses them into a more secure position, making sure that they'll stay put. "Oh," is what he says now that his mouth is free again. He's never met either of the cubs, but that isn't very surprising. He's never really mingled with the rest of the tribe, having been kept more or less isolated by his protective parents while he was younger and in more ill health and now spending much of his time in and around the Priesthood. But he knows of the Turags, or at least their names, due to their rank. "If Sabera is the Turags' daughter, will they be the next Elders?" he guesses, although, in reality, Sabera is far from the only child they've had.
Mridula furrows her brows in a gesture that's closer to a mental frown as opposed to a thoughtful one. "I cannot say. They are young, yet, and Elderhood would be a great while away for any their age. The Elders are named such for a reason - often, respect of that level to be called an Elder takes nearly as long as becoming an old cat. There is much they both have to learn before they would be even ready to take that path. They are far from ready." She has not dealt with the two, but she has known of them and watched them grow, though much of her time is spent in the presence of the Turags as opposed to the Nridevs. "But they have the benefit of time yet left to them, as do you, and dare say I think you have as much to learn - be it knowledge as opposed to wisdom. For now, though, I think you've had enough adventure for one day, hm? Come. Let us find a meal and then take our rest for awhile."
Mridula (Clouded Leopard)
Nithya (Juve. Black Clouded Leopard)
------
Raging River
The river rages here over boulders in frothy rapids flowing from the west and rushing toward east. Its depth and powerful current make it dangerous for all but the largest beasts -- elephant, rhinoceros, water buffalo and guar -- even during the dry season. Regular monsoons cause it to swell regularly, leaving an exposed, vast bed of rock, boulder and sandbars during the dry season. The steep banks outside of this manage to contain most monsoons, held fast by tangly roots of teak, mango, tea, jambul and other trees and well-rooted brush. This east-west stretch of the river marks the northern edge of a rainforest which continues thickly south of here; not far from the river's edge into this forest lurks a massive Banyan tree, not tall but sprawling out over tens of meters. To the north, the trees are thinner and -- during an offshore breeze -- the stank of peat would indicate a marsh to the north. Downstream to the west, the river can be seen taking a bend southward (toward the southwest of here). A stream to the west and a near sub-horizon to the northwest would indicate a possible lake to the northwest.
------
Like a fair number of the Priesthood, Mridula lives close to the heart of the expanse of quilt-like Lon Gi territories. Today, she is at it's very center, perched among a knotwork of intertwining central branches of the great banyan tree. It's one of her favorite places, dark and cool and secluded. The scarred priestess is hanging from one of the branches by her back paws, her plumed and heavy tail draped along the other side and suspended mid-air to serve as a counter-balance. Her poorly-sighted eyes are closed but her ears are pricked. It's an odd position, but one she's always found conducive to gathering her thoughts and grounding herself, a sort of meditative poise.
Over the course of its long, long life, the banyan has seen many gatherings. Presentations, Bondings, Council meetings--it is the closest thing that the Lon Gi have to a central meeting place. Today, however, there will be no ceremonies and no tribesmen to witness them. This area is never quiet, being so close to the river, but it is mostly devoid of clouded leopards. There is only Mridula and, perched on the drooping branch of a neighboring jambul, a small shadow of a cub. He's been observing her meditation for a while now, not commenting, only watching with quiet interest and curiosity.
Mridula is aware her charge is present, she doesn't need to see to know he's there. Smell, sound, sense; all told her some time ago he'd arrived. She does not break her thoughts for him, however. If there was a lesson the boy was to learn first from her it was patience. It is some time yet she remains in this position like some odd statue or branch growth, unmoving and quiet. Only once she's sorted out a few of the thoughts vexing her does she slowly open her eyes, though they serve her far less than familiarity she she twists herself to drop out of the tree and land on the branch below. She turns up her head to face the boy with the brown and black remnants of her ears tipping forward. "So, Nithya, did you find the crane feathers?" She asks, having requested of the boy to seek out two feathers of the striking red, white, and black sarus crane. For what, she hadn't said, only that they would be needed soon.
Most children would start to fidget eventually. Some might complain. Nithya only sits, and, when it becomes evident that Mridula will not stir soon, finally sinks to his stomach in a more comfortable crouch. After a time his eyes close halfway; not meditating, for he really has no idea how the priests do that, but contemplating. Perhaps it's Mridula he beholds, perhaps his own thoughts--it's impossible to say. But he stirs when she does, hearing movement in the branches nearby, and pushes himself up again. His golden eyes peer out at her from the dimness under the canopy, the rest of his body little more than a silhouette. "Yes," he agrees, and then even the reflection of his eyes are gone as he turns to retrieve them. He'd been using his own weight to keep them from blowing off, it looks like, one paw resting on them; and now, with the feathers in his mouth, he races down the limb he'd settled on and jumps across the small gap that separates it from the banyan. He's over within a minute, the two big, banded primaries in tow. How did he get them? That's probably an interesting story.
"Good. This will save us a trip later should the weather begin to turn." Mridula remarks down to her fosterling as he comes close enough to be heard at a more reasonable speaking volume. "We can store them in the hollow. All we should need now is honey, but, that will be at the last moment to ensure it's fresh. We have some time yet before we will need it." She turns to pace slowly along the banyan branches and move back towards it's center. A flick of her tail, with its heavy white band, beckons Nithya to follow. "I hadn't told you what these are for yet, have I? Hm. No, I suppose you were too young, or not even yet born, the last this ceremony was done to even recognize the components for what they are. The ceremony has become too uncommon, I fear."
The boy follows obediently, and now that he's simply walking, not engaging in any of the acrobatics that clouded leopards are so adept at using to get from tree to tree, he may be favoring his left side just a bit. Is there now a sarus crane out there somewhere who's annoyed and missing two flight feathers? Maybe. "Which ceremony is it?" Nithya asks, although, since he's still carrying the feathers, it comes out sounding a bit more like 'whiff ser'mony is it?' He may have had more to say, but, realizing that he won't be able to talk clearly until the feathers are put away, he doesn't speak again.
"The Bonding, little shadow." Mridula says to the young leopard who tags along, nearly as dark as the shadow she casts. "The feathers are an important symbol, for like us the cranes bond for life. Only rarely is a mate ever put aside, so, we honor them for it and use their feathers to represent that kinship." Hopefully, he wasn't too rough with their 'honored' feather donors. To hear the priestess speak of the Bonding makes the leopards familiar with her story but unfamiliar with her flinch, expecting wrath in her voice. She is calm and subdued as she speaks, though, evidence it is not the ritual that holds poor memories for her. "Along with the feathers, the colors blue and red for the female and male, water and flame. Stone, for strength. The bark of the banyan, for longevity. Honey, to represent the sweetness of life, and salt for the bitter sorrows. The egg of a cobra, for numerous young and fertility. ....no, Nithya, the last ingredient I will not send you for. Yet." There is a faint smile passed over her shoulder. "But each has a meaning, and they come together to represent all there is the Bond. We will never experience it, you and I, but it our duty to ensure it holds true and is honored."
Although Nithya makes no further attempt to say anything, with those feathers in the way, he does listen. He's rather good at that even when he doesn't have something to carry around, actually. Chances are he's committing most of that list to memory, too. Not all of it--it usually takes more than one repetition for any cub to learn something--but most of it. If nothing else, he's a studious pupil. Bark, honey, salt...wait, /what/? When Mridula glances back at him his eyes have widened almost imperceptibly, but then she continues and his ears sag back with relief. And maybe just a touch of something else, some deeper, more uncertain emotion. He's too young to have much concept of romantic love, so he can't be terribly disappointed that he's missing out on it, but he knows that the Bonding is something that most Lon Gi do experience, that it's something normal, and there's a part of his mind that can't help but wonder if his parents feel let down that he won't be going through it. "Who," he starts, which comes out 'hoo,' and then gives up. He doesn't want to ruin the barbs!
"Ah, but one doesn't earn a great reward without great risk, hmm?" Mridula says to Nithya, though the lilt of her voice suggests it's a joking tone. She's secretly not a cruel cat. She wouln't terrify or risk youngsters by challenging the wrath of mother cobras. Some lazy priests may use easier-caught eggs, but Mridula is a stickler of the highest order. Anything less just will not do and she's even challenged some of the lazier priests that maybe their short-changing is what's leading to a lack of cubs these days. "Who?" She confirms the question as they reach the core of the banyan. "I believe those next in line are Sabera, daughter of the Turags, and Kavin, son of the Nridevs. If there was ever a need for the strongest and most binding of ceremonies, it will be their's."
In response to that ominous yet light-hearted query, Nithya can only grin. It's a curious expression, genuine and nervous all at once. He both likes and respects Mridula a great deal, as a teacher and a guardian, but he also knows how tight a ship she runs. While her work ethic can only help him in the long run, the thought that he might eventually have to square off with a cobra makes him uneasy. Getting the crane feathers had been bad enough; the bird had smacked him a good one. Reaching the hollow, he carefully tucks the feathers into it and then noses them into a more secure position, making sure that they'll stay put. "Oh," is what he says now that his mouth is free again. He's never met either of the cubs, but that isn't very surprising. He's never really mingled with the rest of the tribe, having been kept more or less isolated by his protective parents while he was younger and in more ill health and now spending much of his time in and around the Priesthood. But he knows of the Turags, or at least their names, due to their rank. "If Sabera is the Turags' daughter, will they be the next Elders?" he guesses, although, in reality, Sabera is far from the only child they've had.
Mridula furrows her brows in a gesture that's closer to a mental frown as opposed to a thoughtful one. "I cannot say. They are young, yet, and Elderhood would be a great while away for any their age. The Elders are named such for a reason - often, respect of that level to be called an Elder takes nearly as long as becoming an old cat. There is much they both have to learn before they would be even ready to take that path. They are far from ready." She has not dealt with the two, but she has known of them and watched them grow, though much of her time is spent in the presence of the Turags as opposed to the Nridevs. "But they have the benefit of time yet left to them, as do you, and dare say I think you have as much to learn - be it knowledge as opposed to wisdom. For now, though, I think you've had enough adventure for one day, hm? Come. Let us find a meal and then take our rest for awhile."