SKILL : SEER ( 1 / 5 )

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This thread is forward-dated and takes place on March 24, 2025.

The air was warming, if ever slowly.

Spring chased some of the winter chill away, dragging snowbanks with it and revealing the blush-colored carpet of Avon's home amidst the meadows. It remained cold, but not so keenly as to be frigid unless one ventured closer to the Vale, where the arctic breath of winter seemed to remain.

It was a welcome change to Fable - she never cared much for winter and the dormant slumber the earth retreated into. She craved the vibrance of life, the green of fresh spring growth and birdsong. This winter had been cruel and stole so much that she sometimes could scarcely believe she remained above ground.

But, it had blessed her, too.

She now had two siblings and her mother back, an inconceivable reality she was truly in awe of. It felt almost undeserved with the vorpal touch of recent days - she anticipated a slap more often than a caress and found herself bracing for the inevitable impact... but it never came. The storms that commanded her life over the previous seasons had begun to slow, its rolls of thunder distant as dark clouds marched away, relenting to blue skies.

Not only had she regained precious fragments of her family, but her birthright had been revealed to her. The blood that swam through her veins - at least in the life before this one - had been owed to Avon, the city that had been erased and passed off as fiction. But it had been real, as real as the frost-gilded grasses beneath her paws, as real as the ebb and flow of her own breaths.

So much had happened within winter's hold, but she held a cautious optimism. Brighter days were ahead, unfolding like precious spring blooms - but there was change yet to embrace to make room for it.

Fable had whiled away at how to approach her fragmented pack, but something in her had solidified after the tree tunnel with her family. She wanted her daughters to have somewhere that was home - something they could cling to when the world grew to be too much, a bedrock that could steady them when she was no longer there to do so.

She wanted Avon to serve as the same for anyone in its berth, too. Friend and family alike could be combined beneath one banner, and she had mulled the ideas over in the quiet hours of night and morning, before her children stirred. Morrigan's Hand was an entire lifetime away, but that didn't mean she couldn't bring all the parts that made it work to this one.

Even if her children chose not to share her belief system, she wanted them to have the option. The Hand had never been dismissive of other schools of thought, after all - every soul was welcome, provided they meant no harm, and that was the crux of what Fable wanted to create. Sanctuary, relief, a shelter from the tribulations of life.

Here, within the meadows' confines, there would be no strife.

Fable's paws brought her to the central part of the territory, where she'd discovered an interesting outcropping. Inside the hold of winter, it was lackluster; a massive rock rose from the ground, affording whomever stood upon it a small vantage point. Two or more wolves could easily sit upon it, with some space to spare.

Gnarled roots from the nearby collection of seemingly ancient trees, almost concealed by the lingering snow, wrapped around the rock like an earthen leviathan coiling around its hoard of treasure. The trees had grown wild over the time immaterial that they had existed here - creating a matrix of hardened roots that were as much a part of the structure as the rock itself.

Now, leaf-bare, it was a benign sight - but Fable was certain this was the heart of this land. She swore she could feel it beating beneath her paws as she carefully picked her path onto the outcrop. It held easily beneath her weight, though she cast a glance of caution in the direction of any of her children who might have followed her.

When she at last settled her haunches into a sit, she looked out across the space before her. It was strange for her to be seated upon her perch when she viewed herself no more important than the other members of the pack, but she was the remaining half of a previously whole leadership.

It would not be easy, but Epona had reassured her that the burden would grow lighter with time and experience.

Fable prayed her choice would be well-received and that her reasoning would always be sound.

She drew in a steadying breath before she tipped her muzzle skyward, releasing a howl of summons that rose as a tendril of vapor in the still-chilled air - calling forth the remaining dredges of Avon. Aisling , who lingered just behind her mother's paws and sat at her side, added her own voice to the call.

Patiently, Fable waited for all parties to filter in. Her green eyes caught each individual as they appeared, broadcasting a reassuring smile and a nod of greeting, of acknowledgement. When all seemed to be in attendance, she sat a little taller as she regarded them.

There have been many changes o' late, an' I know I have been quiet. For that, I apologize - m'gratitude for your continued support in this trying months is valued beyond words, Fable began, gaze drifting from one set of eyes to the next as she spoke. With th' return o' m'mother, sister, an' brother, I would like t'usher in a new beginning for us all under th' banner o' the Kingdom of Avon. It is a tribute t' my birthright, and th' birthright o' my family, but we offer it to all who wish t' leave this world brighter than when it was given to us.

She looked to her mother then, whose azure eyes radiated reassurance, confidence - enough to sustain Fable as she plucked along.

We will continue t' protect th' fae as they have need o' us, but we must also hold all matters o' life sacred. Any who come to us for refuge must be permitted, unless they bear ill will, Fable went on. This was th' way o' Morrigan's Hand, th' coven that shaped myself and m'family. We will live in peace, working with nature rather than against it.

Fable had no stomach for conquest, only the preservation of the sanctity of life and doing what she could to safeguard the vulnerable.

With this change, I - your Matriarch - have created new ranks, she announced. I hope I have found a place for everyone and those who will find us in the future, an' ye are welcome t' stake your claim now or remain as 'folk' as we embark on our new beginning. I am naming m'mother, Epona, as our Diviner.

There was no one she trusted more to lead rites and commune with the world - Fable had never known anyone to be as fluent in nature's unique language as her own mother.

Carefully, she would go on to explain each rank and its duties to the amassed congregation.

There are the hearth-keepers whose job is to maintain the pack's beating heart. They commit themselves to caretaking, drawing from wells of empathy to be a woven-in support system for all of Avon's members.

The Sommeliers are tasked with the curation of spirits for festivals and general use. From fruit and berries they would create fermented products, perfect for celebrations and revelry.

Apotheca are trained in the art of healing, pouring their abilities into the preservation of life - both of packmates and guests who sought sanctuary in Avon's lands. Those who are proficient would be tasked with training the next generation of healers, when the time came.

Couriers bridge the gap in communication between packs and individuals, delivering messages from and to Avon. Swift of foot and silver of tongue, the position is held for those who are well-suited to being a representative of Avon as a whole.

Although the machinations of war were far from Fable's mind, her conversations with Shiloh made it clear the Kingdom could not leave itself defenseless. For those who wished to protect, the rank of Warden was an easy match. Those under this title would dedicate the vast amount of their time to hunting to fill caches and fighting in Avon's favor, whenever the need arose.

Finally, though far from least, was the rank of Cleric. Serving as the mouthpiece to the deities and bridge between mortals and fae, the clerics possess a heightened sense for the supernatural. They find signs where others see nothing at all. During festivals and rites, they guide the attendees in accordance to nature's bidding.

Fable pulled in a silent breath through her nose after a brief moment of silence. This is a lot o' change, I know - I will be working alongside all o' ye as we rebuild an' every day after until m'final breath, she told the group, her tone emphatic. She meant every word. If your heart feels a calling to any o' our ranks, let it be known now.

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All members are allowed to claim a base rank, except for those under One Year of age. This means the following ranks may be chosen at will: Cleric, Warden, Courier, Apotheca, Hearth-keeper, Sommelier or just Folk. High Regent will be a position bestowed ICly based on interactions, it must be earned.

Spring.

Kaphiri was glad for the warmness to the breeze, the softening of the ground, the sweet smell of new blooms teasing their full entrance into the world. The cold hurt his large patch of missing fur, and his efforts into coat making had gone into a present he was waiting to give Amrei... perhaps next winter, he would be better prepared. He couldn't even remember if he'd had his draped around his shoulders the day he and Safiya found the set in the storm --perhaps he wouldn't have frozen if he had?-- but he wished it would've come with him into Mythris.....
No matter. Avon, he'd come to understand, was a place he could truly start over. Nobody here... had known him before. Safiya, though he'd long awaited her return and searched the nearby territories for, was long gone. While the priest wasn't entirely sure what to apply himself to, he was dedicated to helping the pack place its roots. He was trying to figure out what skills he could still use, which turned out to be... a shocking amount of them, for the man who'd been told he couldn't do that anymore to more things he'd enjoyed in life than not.
If his Mother had been trying to manipulate or mold him into something else, he was very, very sure she'd failed. Fear had been the only thing instilled in the young Stormhorse, and for so long, he'd assumed he couldn't do basic things like run or hunt. He thought all he had was his dark thoughts and the herbs he'd come to resent so much.
Some part of him had always, perhaps, always felt the injustice of it. The wrongness.
Amrei was the light in what had become a floating abyss of uncertainty, illuminating everything he could still accomplish. For himself, for the pack, for her -- for them. He was thankful for her, thanked God for her every night before he fell asleep with his face buried in her ebony pelt and every morning he woke to her warmth next to him.

Things had been changing within the pack; he felt the shift more than saw it with his own eye, but that was not to say he couldn't see what was happening despite being half blind. Archon was gone, and Kaphiri felt his heart ache for the splintered family - he didn't know what'd happened, and would not be so rude as to ask, but he thought Fable and the girls might benefit from a friendly face checking in on them every here and again.
But then, Fable had been joined by family of her own. Silver linings, small blessings from Saeiqa to urge one not to give up.

When their sole leader called, Kaphiri didn't hesitate to join her, placing himself in a neat sit directly beneath the rosy woman and turning his gaze upwards to listen with a warm smile in return.

She spoke of new beginnings, of her family members that had found Avon, and what she hoped the kingdom could be with them all helping form it. There were new ranks! Kaphiri listened, keen, but was beginning to fear he would just keep a generalized rank and continue helping where he could as the list went on... and then she got to the last one. Surely, communing to nature and being a bridge between this world and the supernatural.... well, that wasn't far off from who he was already, was it?

I would be a Cleric, he breathed with a smile, But I can train the next generation of healers, if need be, Matriarch.

Skill:

There was a sensation in him, his entire body felt the buzz of energy as they all gathered and responded to the call of their Matriarch. It felt vastly different than how he had pledged himself to Avon Odyssey before. The giant rift that had torn them asunder before was slowly being stitched up day by day. It was not necessarily pretty, but then no one actually expected things to be. Idly he wondered if the strings of fate that Fable saw were the same ones that bound them all to each other - maybe not so strong as soulmates or lovers, but it was a bond nonetheless.

The tangled rock that nature had consumed provided a perfect vantage point for Fable. There was a seriousness about this moment, and Fox knew he needed to be focused and respectful - but at the same time he couldn't help but grin to himself because of course she needed to find somewhere to make her taller. Otherwise they wouldn't have even been able to all focus on her. Foxglove sat patiently and waited for Fable to explain her intentions and the changes she had alluded to in previous talks. He didn't need to really think much about what rank he would take.

Before he spoke up, Kaphiri selected his place amongst them all as a Cleric. It was a heavy role, but he also knew about healing if his words were a good indicator. When he was done Foxglove looked to Fable again, meeting her gaze. Naturally, my place is as an Apotheca - though my heart is called to Avon, regardless of what she needs I will do my best to provide. To some the yoke of responsibility was more like a punishment, but Foxglove had found his place and was happy for it.

Service, especially when your heart was truly in it, came easy. His gaze lingered on Fable for a moment, perhaps too long, as the timeline flashed before him. Fable saw strings of fate from time to time, a glimpse into what might bring the most joy. He hoped that she saw herself, saw who she really was, and that she knew as he did just how valuable she was. Fable might have had a hard time seeing it - and that could have been why she never saw a string for herself. She was the epicenter, where it all came together. He was so proud of her, of all she'd accomplished and all she'd overcome - and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.