Date: March 8, 1999
Place: Forest Edge - Farmlands
Cast: Ambriel, Blackwing, Crooked Shank, Cyrano, Eranthe (named 'Raven's Mate'), Fireheart (previously Willow-Wisp), Heart's Ease (previously LeafLover), Hidenouri, Hoaalohakupaa, Ilex, Inek, Jana, Many Shadows, Maya (named 'Long Bridge Woman'), Path Walker, Rabi (named 'Silent Little Mother' and @emitting Aba), ShadowEyes, Silver Claw, Skyfire, Spirit-Walker, Spirit-Whisperer, Stone-Stare, Teliko, TempestTouch (previously BrightEyes), Tenderheart, (previously Dancing Fingers), Thornlance (@emitting Red Quill), Tun (named 'Ties Unbound'), Voice Like Thunder, White Hawk, Wolfspirit, Yellow Flower
Note: Many characters were NPCs or emits, but I've been unable to determine who was @emitting who, so they've just been added to the "cast" list.
Scene: The Sylvan hold a "naming" festival in order to honor their tribe-mates with new names, or honor outsiders with Sylvan names for deeds they have done or attempts they have made toward peace.

Forest Edge - Farmlands:
      Here, the farmlands meet the forest. Ancient trees cast shadows down onto cultivated fields. Like two factions, the plant life stands in contrast. The foliage of the forest is wild and untamed--weeds, trees, wildflowers and underbrush alike struggling for a chance to grow, while the crops in the field are carefully tended and manicured. It is much like the difference between the Sylvans that dwell in the forest and those that dwell in the city of Haven. The gravel road ends and only a path winds between the thick trunks, leading into the forest.

Naming Day Setting:
      The sky is black overhead, clear skies letting the twinkle of stars and the last quarter of the moon to be plainly viewed. Soft, spring breezes stir along the short growth of new crops sprouting in the nearby fields which were bare only two days ago. One hundred yards east of the forest edge and lying between WindMusic's farmland and the road is a clear area. Large wooden logs, rough-hewn into the crude shape of benches are lined up and placed in rows which curve around a campfire. The campfire is not so large as to consume vast amounts of fuel, but is large enough to light the area well and to give a friendly warmth to the proceedings.
      Pottery jugs and wooden shaped glasses provide liquid refreshment from fresh water to intoxicating, fermented wines. Some dried jerky and some honey-dipped nuts, disks of hard bread with flavorful, savory, herbal seasoning provide the only refreshments. They are arranged within easy reach of the benches and accessible to those attending the celebration.

Standing near the wood piled in a heap, ready to be set afire in less than an hour, is the Sachem. Oddly enough, only a few people are around. One can reasonably guess that those who labored so hard in preparation for the Naming Day ceremony are cleaning up and, from the evening hour, eating before returning for the celebration. Many Shadows turns as she hears a voice address her. "You offer help? Yes, there are some last minute things that need doing." The Sachem lets the somber expression on her face relax into a small but pleasant smile. "LeafLover, some of the girls who remain here are to excited to sit still. Would you have time to teach them a dance and let them burn off a little energy? And you may wish to hold a story in reserve for when the formalities of the naming are done. Few notified the elders of wishing to change a name, so it is not likely to take long."

Silver Claw says very softly to Many Shadows. "Should I go get a bit more food for the celebrations?"

The Sachem continues as she addresses the second who offers help to her. "Silver Claw, there may be special need for your skills tonight. Observers from the city may attend and we should be on guard for disturbances. Additionally, there are some special guests who may be given names here tonight in the ancient ways.

Silver Claw nods as Many Shadows addresses him.

From the shadowy enclosure of the verdant forests to the west comes Thornlance at a rather quick hop-skip pace. Her tawny mane is in a disarray, wisps of downy hair falling into her emerald eyes. She stops upon seeing her Sachem and tribe-mates, quick enough to let the numerous quills and thongs bound in her tresses to come to a flurry of inertia-induced movement. "Oh... have I missed the start yet?" she asks, her eyes holding more than a glint of concern. However, seeing as the entire clan has not yet gathered, the fear is mostly forgotten. Then, she calls, "Many Shadows? Can I ask a favor of you?"

LeafLover smiles and nods, moving toward a group of children and beckoning them to form a small circle. She begins to instruct them in the manner of dance, her entire demeanor changing to that of a more carefree nature.

Many Shadows glances at Thornlance and inclines her head. "You may ask. I won't know if I can grant it till I know what it is, but will listen." There is an amicable note in the Sachem's voice, and she smiles gently. "And I wish to know more of what you found in the lake. Morning Mist told me some...."

Thornlance smiles a bit, and answers, "I'll do my best.." Nearing the Sachem and the mountain of dry wood, the maiden shifts her weapon from her right to left hand, and settles its butt against the ground. The wood slightly bends under her weight as she leans on it, and she informs her Sachem, "I'll relate the story later on this evening when we're all here. Anyway," Thorn's soprano tone holds an almost conspiratorial tone as she continues, "when I was returning and searching for you after seeing the... monster... of the lake, I surprised a young boy munching berries in the trees, and he fell, losing the berries." The smile turns apologetic. "I told him that I'd ask you to shape him a 'berry-tree' of his own. Would it be too much to ask of you...?" She trails off, eyes questioning.

Willow-Wisp comes out the forest quietly. She pauses a moment to look around, then nods to those present. Shyly, she moves to one of the benches and sits down.

LeafLover is in the process of teaching some girls a dance. She realizes how late it is getting, however, and excuses herself to change into her festival dress and retrieve her drum.

Many Shadows chuckles softly and nods, her eyes twinkling. "Yes, that can be managed. And as he grows, so shall the bush... always in reach."

Willow-Wisp waits for a break in the conversation and then speaks "Chookma, Sachem, Forest Brother, Sister." She greets the others politely. "If I can be of help, please let me know."

Silver Claw nods. "Chookma.." And he twists, disappearing into the forest.

Tun wanders quietly, seeming to neither call attention to himself or hide his approach. At least that's the intent; the swish and clatter of beads are just noise at a distance, distinct as he finally nears.

Many Shadows watches the two leave with a curious quirk of her eyebrow and then directs her attention to the arrangements, making sure all is in order. Noting the shadow of a person nearing, she smiles. "Tun. Welcome."

Tun nods back. "Sachem," he says respectfully.

"Oh, thank you!" Any vestiges of unease and anger from a night or two ago when she was forced into playing at being a goddess of the woods has fled, and a smile crosses her pale features. Then, as she watches LeafLover take her leave for now, she peers down at her own garb, eyes blinking rapidly with distress. "Ferrin's blood! I was so busy getting here that I didn't even bother to change from my hunting leathers to something more festive!" This might as well be a bolt of sky-flame incinerating the forest for all the fuss Thorn's making about it. "I have to go back to my den." And that she does, vacating the area for a short while. Then, the huntress returns, a similar yet more heavily adorned short tunic-dress covering her slender form.

Silver Claw enters as silently as usual.

The halfbreed, Tun, seems notably haunted tonight; one of the two faces he more commonly wears anymore.

Many Shadows watches Tun with a bit of speculation while Thornlance is gone. "You are rather quiet tonight. You are well? Was not sure you could come as a guest, since Morning-Mist was not able to locate you earlier."

Silver Claw takes his hair back, pulling a black leather band tight around it, so that it pokes up a bit before falling only a foot down or so.

Tun says "Well, I am here. If she wishes I go, I will go. I've ... been hearing things. I'm not sure how to take them." His expressions show his words are true, changing from grief to confusion to concern even as he speaks, as though trying to figure out the words themselves as he speaks them.

Silver Claw takes his place in a tree, where he can barely be seen, his bow in a nearly white-knuckled fist, an arrow half-nocked.

Many Shadows' frown grows to hear this in the Halfbreed's voice. She sharpens the focus of her gaze. "Hearing things? Tun, I don't understand." She looks at a few of the tribesmen drifting into the area slowly. "But here is not the time for this in any case. Speak later. And maybe LeafLover or TempestTouch can help you."

Willow-Wisp keeps her eyes lowered and gaze averted discretely.

Tun nods, managing a smile. The embers of warmth are still there, and he brings them to show to his adoptive tribe.

Silver Claw watches, his gaze already watching more closely and piercing, his jaw set firmly. He lets his gaze go over to LeafLover as she enters, unmoving and nearly unnoticeable to even the keenest of senses.

LeafLover quickly re-enters into the area, dressed now in her festival dress and carrying her drum.

Silver Claw puts the arrow away, and the bow, hopping out of the tree as he slumps over onto the ground.

A group consisting of men and boys mostly begins to pound a primal melody on their drums. Low and slow the music starts, and a group of ten dancers fades from the trees into the center of the circle, LeafLover among them. In beaded dresses and buckskins, the dancers begin to move in a circle around the fire.

Now back in the festival clearing, Thornlance asks another question of Many Shadows: "Sachem? May I sing a song or tell a story at the ceremony?"

Many Shadows lets her attention drift away from the halfbreed, one hand dropping to rest on his shoulder a moment before heading toward the fire. She turns to face the persons assembling, though stays to the side of the group. She looks toward LeafLover and nods. To Thornlance, she smiles with a hint of affection. "Would you help Silver Claw in escorting those who wish to change a name or to speak to the front of the gathering? It is a position of honor. After the formalities, all may join in songs and stories, but not till the Namings are done."

Tun glances up to Many Shadows and smiles quietly as she moves to the fire.

"Of course!" replies Thornlance. "I'd love to do that."

The dancers move to the beat of the drums, first clockwise and then counter, moving in toward the fire and back out again. The sound of the drums grows louder, faster.

Silver Claw disappears a moment, but returns quickly, with his usual sword hanging from his hip, a massive blade in comparison to most.

White Hawk walks softly out into the clearing, having just now emerged from the woods where he has spent the last few hours. He spots LeafLover in the group of dancers, and smiles. He hangs back from the main group, but stays close enough to get a clear line of sight.

Yellow Flower walks in with Voice Like Thunder and perches on one of the benches beside Willow-Wisp. Voice Like Thunder does not take the hint and when the bench runs out of room for his large frame, he simply squats beside her impassively, but with determination.

Yellow Flower giggles and rolls her eyes as she leans over to whisper to Willow. "Should name him 'sticks like a bur.'"

Ceremoniously, the fire is lit, consecrated with prayers as pollen and minerals are cast into it to make the flames multi-hued.

Dancing Fingers walks in, smiling and waving to anyone who looks her way.

The group of dancers continues to circle around the fire, LeafLover being among that group. As the drums quicken, the group of dancers joins hands, running around the fire and then circling back the other direction.

Willow-Wisp chuckles as she looks over toward the big warrior beside delicate Yellow Flower. "Maybe 'Heart on Sleeve' would be even better."

Voice Like thunder laughs and shakes his head but does not move away from the two teasing him.

Silver Claw leans crouched against the tree, his form is slender, but there is subtle strength in the way he moves.

Many Shadows nods approvingly. She touches each of the girls LeafLover has trained so well on the shoulder as they pass by and move to a seat, scattering around the crowd. "As soon as our Shaman arrives, we will begin formally. For now," she turns aside and steps back two paces, "let the elders take their places, here where they can watch and advise."

Silver Claw spots Dancing Fingers, and slides up the tree, making his way over to her. "Chookma," he says with a smile.

An elderly man waving a gnarled stick before him hobbles through the crowd. Small children and animals are swept out of his way with a gentle touch. "Make way, make way." Crooked Shank, his name is, and the reasoning for his name becomes readily apparent with each step a lift-hobble.

Blackwing stalks in from the west with the silent step of a natural hunter. She rakes the clearing with her leaf-green gaze and grins as she sees Willow-Wisp, flicking her fingers in a gestured greeting to the healer.

The elders move into place, white-shot hair waving, seamed but knife-keen eyes moving over the crowd. As they move past Many Shadows, they nod to her in simple but heartfelt respect.

Many Shadows makes a quick gesture toward the last of the dancers taking their seats to watch. She greets the newcomers with a nod and pitches her voice to carry. "All, please be seated."

White Hawk watches, and moves in closer. If he is going to join the Ettowealona, he is going to have to be part of the group again. He sits down in a free spot on one of the logs.

Wiping her hands free of a spicy unguent customarily used to treat footrot, TempestTouch joins the growing crowd, settling onto a kindly patch of grass.

Silver Claw sits down by the tree he was in earlier as he watches.

Willow-Wisp smiles and raises one hand toward her friend. Torches near the ends of the logs flicker and add enough light to help identify people.

Leaf Lover looks around as she leaves the circle of dancers with the others. Seeing White Hawk, she decides to sit beside him. "Chookma, Kietran."

Thornlance takes her seat beside a stripling named Red Quill, settling her spear across her crossed knees.

Many Shadows says "Silver Claw, Dancing Fingers, as the two newest members of our tribe, please add more wood to the fire and when done, tell the others how you acquired your name."

Tun glances up from where he sits and nods to TempestTouch, a light smile touching his lips.

Ambriel arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

Cyrano comes in quietly but hurriedly with Ambriel and a picnic basket.

Silver Claw stands and nods, heading towards one of the torches.

A small child finds the baskets of nuts far too fascinating to leave be and settles down beside them, consuming handful after handful. Large green eyes watch the proceedings with innocent curiosity... while keeping a lookout for any who might separate him from his nuts.

Ambriel is just following Cyrano, a bit dubiously at that, yessir, she's innocent. Orders from above, really.

There is a tribal gathering to the north of the road adjacent to one of the farms. A fire can be casting its warm friendly light over a gathering of mostly Sylvans, with a few of other races mingled in. All seems fairly peaceful, and the naming day is just starting.

White Hawk looks slightly shocked and surprised when LeafLover sits down beside him. o O (Will wonders never cease. . .) "Chookma Aiyana," he says warmly, reassuringly. He moves over a bit to give her more room.

Dancing Fingers takes up a torch and begins lighting the fires.

Blackwing crosses to Willow-Wisp, nodding her greeting rather than try to be heard over the other murmurs about. She knows it's enough even as her hand falls on the other woman's shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Hoaalohakupaa arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

Silver Claw goes about feeding the fires, moving as usual.

Willow-Wisp peeks back over her shoulder toward the newcomers, her eyes lingering long enough to see if it is anyone she recognizes. She dips her head in a friendly nod, then looks forward again.

Like the wind, Spirit-Walker drifts in quietly. Footsteps hardly making a sound, getting lost in the crowd of Sylvans filtering out of the forest and into the clearing.

Thornlance is simply content to watch the proceedings as they move along now, but keeps an ear perked for her Sachem's orders. Idly, she tangles and untangles her fingers in the light, salt-and-pepper fur adorning the lower hem of her skirt. A song springs to her lips, and she might quietly be heard singing a tale of a Kana'ti bear hunt. 'Quill scowls, and pokes her in the shoulder. "Hush!"

Dancing Fingers smiling nervously when she is finished lighting the fires. She turns to Silver Claw, smiling and blushing and waits for him to begin.

LeafLover looks around uncomfortably at all the stone-walkers as she sits beside White Hawk.

Silver Claw finishes lighting the torches.

Just your average Atlantean, Kupa is. Multicolored hair has been loosened from its usual ponytail at the nape of his neck, the hues darkened. Newly bathed, he is, water slowly drying on his skin. Looking around with brown-grey eyes slightly lightened with curiosity... Coral was right. This does look interesting.

Many Shadows smiles as more tribe members enter the area, as well as observers. She offers a surprised smile as the visage of the elder Shaman, approaches. One arm extends to hug Spirit-Walker before dropping away and returning to formality. "Preparations have been made, the fire lit and dedicated to our Gods. In its heart is a small pouch, like that I was given so long ago, with the mysterious woods in it. Our two newest tribe members are sharing with us how they got their names. You have not yet met Dancing Fingers and Silver Claw."

Ambriel raises brows at Cyrano, leaning over to whisper something...

White Hawk searches the faces of the stone-walkers, and tries to recognize one of them, but none of them seem to match the dreams he has at night.

Suddenly, the name Dancing Fingers registers in White-Hawk's mind. He gasps quietly, and studies the woman intently.

Eyes turn to Dancing Fingers and Silver Claw, as many hues of green as the forest and gods can create, and one pair of deep, rough bark-brown, and linger there, curious and expectant.

Spirit-Walker gives Many Shadows a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with a tenderness. She approaches the Sachem and nods to her, murmuring quietly.

Silver Claw turns to all the Sylvans and other races. He slowly begins. "I gained the name Silver Claw through my abilities to protect, as the claw of a wolf or bear would protect its young and friends... as I have decided to do for the tribe."

LeafLover turns to look at White-Hawk. "If you still wish to join the tribe, now would be a good time to speak with the Sachem," she states simply.

Thornlance keeps her eyes intent on Silver Claw, nodding at his words. She knows much of the changing of names and... things of that nature.

Many Shadows nods to Silver Claw, then looks toward Dancing Fingers. "Your turn, then the elders will speak."

Hoaalohakupaa has a seat by another Atlantean, listening as he looks from Many Shadows to Silver Claw to Dancing Fingers. Silent, his curiosity at the moment being content just from the input given to him.

ShadowEyes arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

Dancing Fingers smiles and blushes. "I was a wanderer until I came to the tribe. I had not chosen my known name as of yet, and Many Shadows suggested dancing fingers because of the pipes that I play. It is a good name, but I have found one that I think fits me even better. I have chosen to take the name Tenderheart. For as I have found, I open my heart to all who wish to enter. I know no enemy until they have proven themselves so. I consider all to be my friends as I hope they consider me." She smiles brightly and blushes.

White Hawk turns to LeafLover and searches her face and eyes. "Aiyana, are you ready for me to?"

Silver Claw's eyes are now on Dancing Fingers, even before she started... wondrously, slightly.

LeafLover motions to where Many Shadows sits. "If you wish it."

Flames flicker and send a dancing yellow glow over faces to merge in irregular patterns, a chiaroscuro effect bringing features into focus with personality lines and contours emphasized, then letting them fade out to pale ovals. Many Shadows looks toward the Elders and awaits their approval.

Willow-Wisp raises her hand and waves to the newcomer. She quickly rises and steps over to his side. "ShadowEyes, you did find your way here. Come, sit with me." She is quite discreet in guiding this one with just the tips of her fingers. "The ceremony has already started, some newcomers to the tribe announcing their names."

Dancing Fingers smiles as her eyes take in Silver Claw and her blush deepens.

Spirit-Walker, along with the other elders, nods. Spirit-Walker looks at the young Sylvan. "Tenderheart, you bring honor to your people with the giving spirit of your heart." And then she falls quiet again, nodding to Many Shadows.

ShadowEyes makes his way slowly toward the sounds and smiles brightly at hearing the voice of Willow-Wisp. Silently, he nods and lets himself be guided by her fingertips.

Pretty much all of her tribe knows Thornlance's name, so she has no need to speak up. Her eyes shift from time to time, from those giving the speeches to newcomers, from newcomers to Atlanteans, and so on.

Teliko, Hoaalohakupaa's companion, looks to her friend and queries softly, "So what're they doing there?" She cranes her neck, peeking over the Sylvans and other folk who obscure her vision.

White Hawk stands and makes his way to Many Shadows. "Many Shadows, I would like to submit myself for inclusion in your tribe."

Many Shadows says, "You may be seated for now. As new members, you may lead the dance afterward and teach some of the steps to our visitors. Now," She looks over the crowd, come the recognition of those who have changed names since last ceremony. "TempestTouch, Lead this group, please."

Path Walker, a retired Shaman of a tribe, watches the now-named Tenderheart after the other elders have looked away. Gnarled fingers arrange themselves in a new pattern upon his walking-stick as he smiles a pleased, knowing smile to himself. As the Sachem speaks up again, he looks towards her, then TempestTouch.

Silver Claw sits at an empty patch or grass out of the way.

Tenderheart smiles brightly and moves to sit down on the grass by Silver Claw, looking at him occasionally and blushing.

"Well, they're changing their names. One girl is now calling herself Tenderheart." At 6', Kupa doesn't have that much trouble looking over the others. Slowly rubbing a knuckle at his dark orange beard, he's got a rather thoughtful look on his face. Not a bad thought. They change their names as life takes them.

Silver Claw looks over and smiles. "Chookma..."

Tenderheart smiles. "Chookma," she says softly. "I hope that you do not mind that I join you," she says with a hopeful look.

White Hawk waits patiently for the answer to his rather rude interruption.

"Hunh. Interesting." Teliko murmurs to 'Kupa. It's good to have friends in high places, so to speak. Then, after a moment, she asks, "Any others?"

Hoaalohakupaa isn't the only one being pestered by questions. Red Quill snickers softly, thinking this a, "Rabbit's name." But you know how adolescent boys are, all macho and such. Thornlance now jabs him in the side, and, smirking faintly, orders, "You hush."

Willow-Wisp watches the healer quietly as she explains how she got her new name.

Silver Claw shakes his head, his mouth curving into a smile. "I am glad to have you join me."

Spirit-Walker glances over at Path Walker, the elder. The middle-aged woman actually blushes a bit when caught looking at him a bit too long. She is distracted by the youth talking. She straightens up, gives them a stern look of admonishment. Then, hearing them grow quiet, she returns her attention to the ceremony.

He doesn't seem to mind being 'pestered,' the tall Atlantean with the more or less unspeakable name. Kupa sits up a little straighter, looking around. "I don't think so? Having a pause, it'd seem."

Drawing herself to her feet, the healer bearing a brand looks out over the sea of faces, "I was once known as BrightEyes; a name given to me in childhood. Since that day, I have grown in many ways. Physically, mentally and with my skills. All learning comes with a price, and I have found there to be chaos on the other side of order." She draws in a breath before closing off, "The healing which flows through my fingers can help and harm. Tupuran's touch is as natural as the storms which surround us. So... I am known now as TempestTouch."

Crooked Shank wrinkles his nose, one hand cupped to his ear. He nudges the unfortunate soul next to him, "Enh? What's that? What's she saying?"

Teliko is content with that for an answer and turns around, still striving to peer above the rest of the congregated crowd. An ear perks at the sound of another voice, and she listens for herself this time.

Red Quill does the same, harrumphing at a self-satisfied Thornlance. A flicker of recognition is caught in that huntress' eye. Aha... here's an acquaintance. She watches with renewed interest.

Tun remains quiet, seated in the grass. Mostly just another face in the crowd, he nevertheless smiles softly hearing TempestTouch's story.

Silver Claw smiles, mimicking Tenderheart's movement.

LeafLover listens closely to all the stories, though her eyes dart to White Hawk from time to time.

White Hawk still stands waiting for Many Shadows' response.

A small flurry of gaping and disbelieving whispers go through the younger and newer tribe-members as Path Walker actually gifts Spirit-Walker with a spry little wink. But, but... elders aren't supposed to do that! He simply smiles to himself as the whispers reach his ears, attention now fixed on TempestTouch. He cocks his head a bit to the side and studies the woman with keen, keen eyes, seeming to focus on something within her, rather than without.

On the back bench behind the Atlanteans is a pair of children who whisper to each other, voices becoming more agitated. Finally starting to tumble with 'is not' and 'is so' being hotly whispered.

ShadowEyes smiles to himself as he listens to the stories and various discussions going on around him. Quietly, he leans toward Willow-Wisp and asks her something.

The female Atlantean turns on the children, sunlight shimmering in a single flash from her shell headpiece and glossy indigo tresses. "Ssh!" she scolds them, and turns back to watch the proceedings.

Spirit-Walker looks upon TempestTouch proudly, nodding her approval. She remains quiet and does a double take when the elder gives her a wink. She looks a bit like a bird with her feathers ruffled, frowning flustered and clearing her throat. Playing hard to get, probably.

White Hawk approaches closer to Many Shadow with urging from LeafLover. "Many Shadows, I would like to submit myself for inclusion in your tribe."

Feeling the weight of so many eyes upon her, TempestTouch restrains the urge to twine her fingers together in the manner of children fidgeting. Known faces in the crowd are sought and a flickeringly brief smile is given to draw reassurance. The Shaman's gesture of acceptance, though, lightens the lines of strain about her eyes.

Blinking, 'Kupa also turns around. Not scolding, his dark orange eyebrows are rather lifted high. Always the curious one. What's. "What's all the hubbub about?" Whispering in his turn, trying to keep one eye at what's happening as well.

Tenderheart smiles brightly as she looks around and enjoys her first festival, nervously glad that she is no longer the one who must hold their attention and be met with approval.

With a muttered grunt, Crooked Shank finally is given the gist of the healer's story and grumbles, "S'a good thing too. Too many So-and-so-Eyes in the tribe. How'm I supposed to keep 'em all straight?" One arthritic hand rubs at his left leg in an unconscious and habitual movement.

When TempestTouch's expression lightens, Path Walker nods to himself. "It is so. The corrections were made," he affirms, though his voice barely carries past himself. He looks towards the Sachem, then the Shaman, and nods slightly to them both.

The Sachem considers the man before her. Her eyes narrow slightly and she looks toward White Hawk. Studying him a moment, she responds. "You wish to join our tribe? You may join, but you must work with our elders on making sure you remain part of the tribe, loyal to Sylvan ways and to our purpose. We all help raise our young, so you will be responsible for assisting with them as well as some of the tribal duties. We work together. And if on talking with the elders, you decide it is not suited to you, you may withdraw without rancor." She turns to announce. "White Hawk has requested admittance to the tribe. He has dwelt near us for a period of time as a visitor, so knows our ways."

Silver Claw looks over at Tenderheart and smiles. He leans in and whispers to her.

White Hawk nods. "I understand what you say, Many Shadows, and accept it."

Rabi arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

The children behind the Atlanteans who were lightly arguing as children often do, look up and scuttle to the side, hiding behind the bench. One looks at the other and then back up at the adults. "I was right. It was the one I knew." The other clearly does not like that, but agrees. That said, they ramble off to examine some of the other observers 'close up.'

Maya, Skyfire, and Jana arrive from the east, leaving the corn fields.

Tenderheart smiles at what Silver Claw whispered and nods, then turns to whisper back.

Sinking back down to her patch of grass, TempestTouch allows herself the freedom to worry the edge of her worn leathers in quiet relief. Quiet murmuring flickers about those gathered, but attention seems to rest upon Many Shadows and White Hawk at the moment.

Maya enters with a purposeful step -- two in Delphic robes in tow. She looks around at the sea of Sylvan faces until she finds one of the few she knows. A duck of the head is how Maya greets Many Shadows, taking a place along the edge of the firelight. She motions for Jana and Skyfire to join her.

LeafLover closely watches the exchange between Many Shadows and White Hawk, though she is not close enough to hear their words. She sits quietly upon a log.

Tun leans close to whisper something at TempestTouch.

Silver Claw nods and smiles as he continues whispering to Tenderheart.

Two Varati women arrive, unescorted. One is older and dressed in servants' silks, her age betrayed by the difficulty with which she moves. Her eyes flicker from person to person with nervous unease and she keeps protectively close to the other, who is draped in much finer silks. Rabi moves with slow deliberation, and bows a greeting to the concentration of leadership -- to Many Shadows in particular -- before settling down on one of the unoccupied logs. Aba bows as well and sits down next to her charge, her aged fingers plucking at her sari to arrange it more comfortably about her knees.

Jana walks close at Skyfire's side, eyes gleaming in the flickering light. Obediently, she follows Maya's directions and sits down. In her arms she carries a book, which is clasped tightly to her chest.

Around the flickering fire are a group of people facing the elders. The ceremony seems to be under way, some relieved looking faces lined up in neat rows on benches, their portion complete. Others remain still to be interviewed in the formalities.

Many Shadows stands and faces the crowd. "Newcomers have spoken their names and told of how they took them. A new member has joined us, and Sylvans who had changed their names between these celebrations have explained why. Now we come to other matters and pause the progress of the celebration for our tribe members a moment for a special segment in which we shall follow an ancient custom."

Hoaalohakupaa clasps his large hands together, leaning forwards. Children will be children. A glance towards Teliko by his side, and then those brown-grey eyes of the Atlantean male widen at the sight of the newcomer. His normal curiosity just got doubled. So many new things!

Skyfire is struck silent at all those gathered, his eyes scanning the crowd for any others he may know. He takes in a deep breath, his color seeming to improve by just breathing the air out of the city. He sits beside Jana and Maya, listening, watching, eyes intent.

The elder, Crooked Shank, lifts his clear-eyed gaze to pause upon the Sachem before letting it drift amongst the gathered People and visitors. Eyes as orbs of glacial ice, set within the face of a wrinkled prune.

As if expecting Rabi's arrival, Path Walker turns and looks straight at the Varati woman and her aide, seamed eyes wrinkling up in some deep but private delight. He watches them settle themselves amongst the gathering, then looks down at his walking stick, stroking the weathered wood, expression settling back into deep thoughtfulness.

Seeing that her friend is gawking at the newcomers, Teliko decides it's a good idea for her to do so, too. Turquoise eyes linger on the elderly Varati woman, pity for her difficulty in movement clear in her eyes. She nods a greeting, should they be looking at her.

"Those who serve our tribe yet are not members of it are honored with recognition by the Sylvans. This is not a gift given lightly, but one earned, and it can be lost. The gift is debated among our elders and tribe and selected by a group. Warrior escorts, Thornlance and Silver Claw, go forward and bring the women, Rabi and Maya forward, please," asks Many Shadows.

Thornlance stands from her position in the crowd, becoming a proud warrior rather than a nameless, faceless runner-with-the-pack. Spear in one hand, she approaches Rabi's side, waiting for the woman to stand and walk with her to her place near Many Shadows. A smile is flashed in the way of the Sachem, and she brushes wisps of tawny hair from her eyes. Must look dignified. She schools the grin into a somberish -- almost comic -- look of determination.

Hidenouri arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

LeafLover beckons to White Hawk to rejoin her on the log, saying nothing, and her face betraying no emotion.

Spirit-Walker's expression is somber as she watches the Varati women arrive. She nods in agreement with Many Shadows as she speaks, yet keeps silent as the warriors escort the women forward. Her gaze is not harsh as she examines the two from another race.

Jana glances aside at Maya, eyebrows lifting in faint surprise. Then she scoots over a bit to make certain the Varati lady has ample room to stand up and walk forward. Eventually, she turns to whisper in Skyfire's ear.

Silver Claw stands, his sword suddenly caught in his hand; the hilt, anyway. He walks over towards the two named, a little proudly, now.

Rabi starts slightly as she hears her name. Aba's eyes fly open and she looks over at the younger woman, alarmed. Rabi touches her servant's arm gently and looks up to regard Many Shadows with something akin to curious confusion. She nods a greeting to Thornlance before rising to follow her, still moving with that slow care. The young Varati woman takes three steps and stumbles, but she catches herself and dips her head in apology to the assembly in general for her clumsiness. She does not stumble again as she allows the Sylvan warrior woman to lead her where she will.

TempestTouch leans back to answer Tun's murmur, fingers full of braided greens.

White Hawk nods, and goes to sit back down. He whispers into her ear. "Thank you, Aiyana." He sits calmly beside her, smiling, happy about what the future looks like.

Hidenouri enters the clearing slowly... deliberately slowly. She shakes her hair out around her body to cover herself modestly and begins observing the crowd with intent interest.

Eranthe arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

Maya lifts her chin, somewhat expecting this. She nods to Jana and Skyfire, entrusting the two to each other for a time. With an open smile for the warrior that approaches, she turns and picks her way forward towards the fire.

Kupa nibbles on his lower lip, watching both Varati as well as Delphi. Brushing away locks of hair that takes the movements of his head as their cue to fall into his vision, the Atlantean male's gaze then follows Rabi. Stumbling? Is she sick? Eyes turn to Teliko by his side, beginning a silent conversation. Concerned.

Skyfire leans closer as Jana whispers in his ear and then brushes at a thin ground-vine that has taken to growing around his hand. Not now, he tells it as he turns to whisper into Jana's ear.

Tenderheart looks on with pride and curiosity as she watches Silver Claw. She still wonders at the sign Path Walker made.

Silly-somber Thornlance waits for Silver Claw to meet up with Maya, and then leads the aged and younger women forward. A path is cleared by the Sylvans who occupy Thorn's arrow-straight path to Many Shadows' side.

Drums continue to play softly in the background.

Silver Claw just follows, not moving with any pride, just silence.

Crooked Shank edges forwards on his log, eyeing off this Varati woman as she is brought forward into the midst of forest 'savages' which are the People.

Cyrano is still whispering occasionally and happily to Ambriel. He wraps a wing around her to keep her warm.

Better late than never -- she really must work on her punctuality. Eranthe's look of relief hints that she may have taken a wrong turn or two during the course of her journey here, and she gifts a smile to the companion by her side. Another Empyrean, male, who holds the manner of a guard, although his dress is casual. With a glance about that is both shy and curious, she remains off along the edge as she tries to take everything in.

Many Shadows keeps a very formal expression on her face. "Rabi, woman of Faisal, mother of two. The gift chosen for you it the honor of a name, a Sylvan name to use when your path leads you among us. To this end, we have discussed, one part of your name is 'Silent,' because of your physical inability to speak. The second is 'Little Mother' because of the characteristics you have exhibited. Reasons are complex."

Blackwing's eyes wander, catching on this strange one in grey robes. How odd. Her eyes are sharp as she measures him up, watching without compunction. The start of a smile starts to play about her lips, only to be cut off as her fingers brush across the bracelet on her wrist.

Rabi's veils catch the firelight, blue and green made black by darkness with highlights of the dancing golds and oranges. The cloth hides her expression but her eyes show what she is feeling clearly enough: confusion. What service have I done to this tribe? She thinks, puzzled. She glances over at Maya, not recognizing the other, and just as curious about her contributions. Her gaze wanders over the crowd, next, pausing over the winged figures. Aba keeps close to her and the old woman's eyes go everywhere that Rabi's do, only with greater alarm glinting in their dark depths. At Many Shadows' address, Rabi's attention is pulled back to where it should be. She listens and as the Sachem speaks, her eyes widen.

The elder Shaman sits up, leaning a bit to the side to get a better look at the winged ones arriving. Spirit-Walker casts a side glance at Path Walker and then looks back to Many Shadows, listening to her as she speaks.

Bowls of wood are passed about those gathered, some filled with nuts, others with hard scraps of meat. Occasionally, flasks of water do the rounds, too.

Path Walker's attention turns now to Eranthe, seamed eyes widening a fraction. "Oh-ho, oh-ho," he chuckles to himself -- his laughter is not cruel but, rather, warm and somewhat mysterious. Should the Empyrean look his way, he offers an almost childishly-bright smile. He reaches out a gnarled hand, touching a nearby youngling and whispering briefly to him. The youngling, somewhat overwhelmed to be spoken to by an elder, nods quickly and slips away towards the refreshments.

Maya returns Crooked Shank's look bluntly. Black eyes bore into green for a very long time, as if waiting for his to fall away first. Suddenly, she smiles, the expression so open and free it is hard not to respond to. She waits, listening to the words spoken with more than just her ears but with mind as well, turning each spoken and unspoken word over to wring every last drop of meaning from it.

The Sachem's voice continues. "You are like a mother who loves her children, right or wrong. You support them, love them, are proud of them, and loyal. You try to guide them and weep in your heart when you see them do something hurtful to themselves or others. You try to help others understand them and minimize the pain they feel and that their actions give. You serve as 'mother' to your people. For the time and patience you have given and in recognition of your efforts, the obstacles you overcame in attempting to ease matters for the Sylvans, you gain a name... at least for the time being. It can be lost or taken away if not nurtured."

The Seraskier's woman blinks, breath caught in her throat. She swallows, watching Many Shadows' face as she speaks.

Tyche's toes, but is Thornlance looking proud! Namesake spear held like a standard crested in briars, she holds the side of Rabi not taken by the Sachem. Solid and unremarkable as a oak.

Teliko, however, squirms and shifts positions, sun-bronzed legs only touching the detritus now. Wouldn't want to get dirt which would turn to mud when she swims on her sea-green sarong.

Jana smiles faintly as she whispers with Skyfire, casting occasional, brief glances to the speakers by the fire.

LeafLover listens intently to Many Shadows' words about mothering. She glances over at Dancing Fingers -- now Tenderheart -- thinking of the child, MoonFeather.

Crooked Shank finds himself being studied and with a lift of a gruff shoulder, turns back to the proceedings at hand. A few quick jerks thumps his staff upon the ground in loud acknowledgment of the wisdom of the Sachem's words.

Eranthe continues to linger along the edge, cloaked with shadows. Moonlight plays in pale eyes opened wide -- she has never been in Sylvan lands. Indeed, it is the rare occasion she leaves the Palladium at all. Her companion leans in to whisper, the young woman's attention roaming over all the faces gathered as she listens. A faint nod before the two move to sit on one of the logs.

Hoaalohakupaa is sitting silent. Just listening, watching. Curiosity killed the cat, but happily not the seal. Yet.

Tenderheart glances back over to LeafLover and offers a warm, reassuring smile.

Skyfire nods slightly in Jana's direction and digs his toes into the soft earth. Oh, how wonderful to feel it beneath him once more! He smiles and returns his attention to the speakers, taking some of the offered nuts and meat as they pass by.

Spirit-Whisperer arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

LeafLover looks at Tenderheart and smiles, grateful for the reassurance.

"It is so," Path Walker agrees, just as quietly as before. He thumps his walking-stick thrice in front of him, echoing Crooked Shank's agreement. He watches the Sylvan youngling he sent away for a second, then turns his attention to the now-named Silent Little Mother.

Blackwing pounds her fist on the fallen-tree on which she is seated, adding to the low thrumming of the drums her own approval of the name.

Rabi bows her head. She lifts a hand and her fingers form one shape, then another, then another. Aba tears her eyes away from the Empyreans and pays attention to the signs that her charge is making. She looks at Rabi's face and then -- with a skill born of familiarity and fondness, she divines what Rabi is trying to convey. "The Imphada is very honored by this gift." A hesitation as the younger woman makes another sign. "Always... she will always do..." another sign, "her best to honor it, and... the wisdom..." Rabi points at Many Shadows, then turns her fingers about as if to indicate the gathered Sylvans "...of those who have given it." The old woman gives Rabi a tentative look and Rabi nods, smiling under her veil.

Rather than keep an eye on Rabi, Maya and the other non-Sylvan visitors, TempestTouch watches instead the elders. Spirit-Walker, Crooked Shank, Path Walker, Many Shadows, and the others.

The Sachem steps backward once Rabi's interpreter is finished, speaking as she goes. "Only hated yet respected enemies or those who have served us, knowingly or not, earn such names. Your name is not spoken with the harsh tone of hostility, but with the warmth of friendship." She turns to the crowd. "I present Silent Little Mother." A nod to Thornlance indicates she may escort Silent Little Mother away. Attention turns to Maya next and she studies her for a long moment. "Come forward Liaison Maya. Come forward and hear what the council of elders has chosen for you."

Silver Claw and Tenderheart whisper back and forth. Her eyes dance with delight at all that is going on around her. Her cheeks seem to stay slightly tinged in a blush that speaks of happiness and slight shyness, but a bright smile remains on her face the entire time.

The Sylvan youngling that Path Walker whispered to slips free of the crowd, appearing near Eranthe. He pauses nervously, looking down at the bowl in his hand, then steps forward, piping, "Honey nuts?" He peeks nervously at Eranthe as he offers the honey-dipped nuts to her -- just as the Empyrean has never been to Sylvan lands, he has only heard stories of the dove-winged folk.

Thornlance does as instructed, always the good little soldier, and leads the honored woman and her elderly friend back to their log seat.

Spirit-Walker gives a warm smile to Rabi and nods approvingly. She looks to Many Shadows yet again, seeming to be on the brink of proud tears, but never losing control of them. Her gaze drifts across the crowd and then she looks downward, looking thoughtful, her fingers sliding over the smooth surface of her staff.

Rabi draws the back of her fingers across her skirts as she bows her head to those assembled. She steps to the side, Aba following, and follows Thornlance back to the log. She sits down slowly and Aba leans over to her, murmuring something. Rabi shakes her head very slightly, holding up a hand, and turns her attention back towards the Sachem and elders, listening.

Willow-Wisp's expression tightens a little at such an honor begin given to fire-bringers, but nothing is said. She is not of this tribe, merely a polite visitor filing away news and details to carry home with her.

Maya's eyes turn to the Sachem, her gaze shadowed and flickering in the dancing firelight. She nods once to Rabi, approving of the gift most obviously and then stepping forward to see what sort of thing the Sylvans have in store for her. She looks once around the circle of faces, each one illuminated from the fire in an upturned circle of glow-kissed skin before she turns to face Many Shadows directly.

Skyfire stretches his neck to watch the return of the newly-named Silent Little Mother and to watch as Maya is led to the Sachem.

Ilex arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

LeafLover stands, moving toward Tenderheart and sitting beside her, nodding to Silver Claw as she does.

Jana shifts on the log seat, pursing her lips in her discomfort. She suddenly gets an idea. Discreetly, she eases herself up, slides the book under rump, and then sits back down. Much better. She casts a smile at Skyfire, then returns to listening to the Sylvan elders.

Eranthe is a fidgety little thing. The wings of pure white which stretch behind her snap out slightly with a nervous twitch when she's approached, the young woman's eyes finding the face of the young Sylvan before her. A smile, composed of equal parts fascination and shyness, curves her lips as she nods and utters a quiet 'thank you.' Dipping her hand into the bowl, she takes a small fistful of nuts -- nibbling on her lower lip all the while.

Crooked Shank is now given the chance to freely appraise Maya without it being seen as an attack. The light from the fire never quite seems to warm the cool chips of his eyes, acumen disguised with feigned short-sightedness. And so, he squints.

Now that Rabi and her elderly friend have returned to their seat, Thornlance takes her place next to Red Quill. The youth grins at her. "Why'd you get to do that? I'm the warrior!"

"Hush, Red Quill."

Tenderheart smiles and reaches out a hand to LeafLover and squeezes it reassuringly.

LeafLover whispers quietly to Tenderheart.

"As with the woman, Rabi, who has a new name to use when among us, you have made efforts which serve your affiliation, yet are of benefit to us, also. You have sought to open negotiations and narrow the gap between Delphi and Sylvans, to permit us to seek from you that the Sylvans amid you are able to remain Sylvans and not have their spirit and heart cut from them. The outcome is still in question on these negotiations, but you, Maya," the Sachem speaks firmly, "have started to build a bridge between us. For that reason, you are Long Bridge Woman."

Tenderheart smiles brightly at what LeafLover has just whispered. And whispers back.

Spirit-Walker watches as Maya approaches. As she has been through the entire ceremony, she is watchful, examining, her eyes expressing much where words do not pass her lips. Occasionally, she glances to a rowdy youth, but her attention quickly returns to Many Shadows as she speaks.

Floating. Rabi feels as if she is floating. And yet Many Shadows' voice has a clarity to it, like the edges of a finely-made knife in bright sunlight. The Varati woman listens, wondering for a moment if she is dreaming. She finds herself leaning against Aba for support.

LeafLover smiles, hugging Tenderheart before looking back to the women Many Shadows honors with Sylvan names.

Ilex walks from the east to the edge of the forest. She looks slightly puzzled, but then her expression changes. Staying a ways from the group of people, she crouches and picks up a few pebbles, fingering them in her hand.

Wolfspirit comes down the trail, leaving the forest.

Delphi, now there's a word not heard too often in these leafy parts. TempestTouch's curiosity snaps to attention, resting keenly upon the Varati woman newly renamed. Shoulders hunch as she closes in on herself; some wounds still bear pain.

Maya's eyes widen and narrow. So many changes and all so close upon one another. She lays her hand over her heart in a graceful gesture and bows her head over all to Many Shadows, "I thank you, Sachem, and your elders for such a true naming. And I hope that I may prove the truth of it in time."

"Long Bridge Woman," Path Walker echoes quietly, watching Maya intently. The 'Long' is stressed just slightly, perhaps, in both acknowledgment and encouragement of the task ahead of her. He again thumps his walking-stick thrice upon the earth, a wordless It-Is-So.

A heavily pregnant graisha steps out of the shadows of the forest. Startled by all the strangers, she remains silent, her eyes searching for someone she may know.

Spirit-Walker is fortunate her foot is out of the way of the old Shaman's staff. She nods in approval as Maya is given her name of honor.

Tenderheart hugs LeafLover back, smiling brightly and also casts a smile to White Hawk.

Rabi's gaze drifts over the circle of elders and she regards each one curiously in turn, glancing from under long lashes in a surreptitious manner.

Skyfire can't help but lean in closer at the Sachem's words for the Avatarati, taking in the new name quickly. His hands are clasped tightly in his lap, seeking a tentative control, but that doesn't seem to stop another light vine from trying to grow about his ankle.

Maya's lips twitch and her eyes rise to meet the gaze of Path Walker. She inclines her head once, acknowledging the truth of his naming of her as well. The bridge will need to be very long indeed, to cross such a gaping rift. She steps back, letting shadows start to coil about her, knowing that her part is done for a time and wishing to hear others honored so.

Eranthe quietly eats her nuts as she watches all that is going on around her with timid wonderment. It's so beautiful out here, surrounded by the trees reaching for the heavens and the pale moon smiling from above. The young woman takes a deep, deep breath, like a parched man drinking deeply, and leans a faint bit against her companion.

A crowd is seated along the log benches curved around the fire. Children titter and play as children usually do, while others watch the ceremonies continue. A few eat and drink, relieved they have either escaped notice or are done with their part, others still await their turn.

Blackwing turns back to the scene centered in the firelight and frowns darkly. Her scowl speaks more clearly than words just how long that bridge might have to be.

Occasionally, the watchful gaze of wolves can be seen glittering from the trees at the edge of the forest. They blink and vanish, only to reappear somewhere else along the border. There is wilds yet within the peaceful boughs which shelter the People.

The Sylvan youngling hovers near Eranthe a little longer, seeming both fascinated and intimidated by the fluttering wings. He smiles shyly to her, then quickly slips away, returning the bowl to the table of refreshments before finding a spot to sit again.

Jana listens quietly to the ceremony in progress, and she furrows her brow thoughtfully. Sylvan names are so weird. But she'll never say that out loud. Gently, she leans forward to catch a glimpse of some of the refreshments set out. Then she leans over to whisper to Skyfire again.

Ilex stands and moves closer to the crowd, but still keeps her distance. Naming day, she thinks. Haven't been to one of these in a long time. She shakes her head to herself, thinking about the fact that she doesn't even use her common name anymore. She crosses her arms to watch the ceremony.

Tenderheart smiles and looks. She has not seen so many of her people in one place at one time.

Many Shadows steps back and makes eye contact with the elder council and nods to them. A group participation.

TempestTouch shifts on her tussock of grass, gaze slithering off Maya like oil and water. Her head jerks as her gaze skitters about, until finally finding pause in Jana wherein a quick smile flares into being.

Spirit-Walker nods to Many Shadows and clears her throat. "Those of you, given your names..." she says in her raspy voice, pausing to try and clear it more. Spirit-Walker is quiet for a moment, glancing from person to person, "... it is as our Sachem has said. It is not something we give lightly. We take not this bond lightly. There are others now, that will join in this important day." She nods to Many Shadows and falls quiet.

Wolfspirit has traveled a day and a night from her homeland to be here, not a good activity when you are about to have a child at any moment. Still she was determined to witness the ceremony. If only she could just sit for a bit.

Rabi focuses on the entire group of elders, studying their faces unobtrusively, trying to set them fast within her memory. Aba murmurs something else to her -- a very soft question -- and she nods in return.

Near the back of the crowd, a silent conversation passes through three dark-skinned Atlanteans without a sound. Only the language of the body says they speak at all. Firelight makes their sea-blue eyes glitter strangely, one of the three reflecting feral green.

Jana smiles at Skyfire quite happily, then creeps over to where the food is. She pauses only a moment, then selects a fairly small round of hardened bread. As she turns to resume her seat, her gaze catches TempestTouch's. She grins in reply, and lifts her hand to waggle her fingers in greeting.

Maya fades to the edge of the crowd and returns through the fringes to her students. A quick look to Skyfire's feet and she shakes her head.

Willow-Wisp notices the arrival of a tribeswoman and sidles closer to Wolfspirit to make room for her on the bench. Her voice lowers so not to interrupt, but it is clear she is welcoming the pregnant woman.

Rabi's gaze drops to a scattering of leaves on the ground before her slippered feet. This bond, she thinks. A bond. She looks thoughtful.

Crooked Shank gives lie to the weight of his age, managing to straighten as the Shaman talks. He and the other elders lend a solemn gravity to the gathering, and their combined presence adds a solemnity that even the swirling mass of children cannot diminish.

One seated amongst the council of elders near Many Shadows waits for a cue from the Sachem, then stands up and calls in a clear voice, "If there are any here who speak for the fallen Lysander or the Atlantean Kai, we ask them to come forward now." He, as well as the other elders, look over the crowd, searching.

Teliko glances around the gathered, a single carbon brow arched. Are there any other Atlanteans here? She'd best not have to speak for her race.

Skyfire looks up as he notices the Avatarati's gaze... no, Long Bridge Woman's he tells himself, on him. He looks down at his feet and carefully untangles them from the vines and hugging his arms to him, a look of fierce concentration in his eyes now.

From the back, the three Atlanteans look between each other and as a group step forward. A scowl sends two back one step, so that only one approaches. He picks his way carefully forward, his step a bit uncertain and somewhat heavy. Nearing the fire, the pale shell-tones of his skin glow and his green hair seems slick like seaweed. He bows once and waits silently, not easily given to speech.

Rabi smiles faintly under her veils as she watches the Atlantean approach, thinking of Riva.

Oh! That must be her cue. Eranthe looks startled for a moment, freezing as her husband's name is called. Nervousness kicks in and she springs up to her feet, turning to her companion to give him the nuts she had been holding. A bunch fall to the ground and she starts to bend in order to pick them up but, no, everyone's waiting. She'll get them later. With hesitant steps and shivering wings, she steps forward and drops a curtsey. "I am Eranthe Acesian, Lysander's wife." Soft. Really, she should speak up.

Rabi's gaze slips over to Eranthe and she looks at the Empyrean with her ever-present curiosity. And there is pity, too, in her gaze. Aba murmurs another question in her ear and she nods in reply.

Many Shadows sits down and lets the elders handle this one. She nods to Thornlance and Silver Claw to provide escort as needed.

Wolfspirit begins to take a stumble slowly over to where Willow-Wisp is sitting, happy to see a friendly face at last and the luxury of a seat to rest her tired bones.

Tun stands silently, brushing errant seedling grasses from his trousers, scattering the worried-plucked seeds everywhere. He quietly makes his way through the crowd toward the back, stealing a silent escape.

Now, this is getting interesting, even more so that before. Kupa's back straightens once again, his height allowing him at least some advantage in looking over the heads of other people.

Up and down. Up and down. Thornlance hefts herself up to a standing position once more, and begins to approach the verdegris-maned Atlantean, just as she did for Rabi and Aba.

Teliko, meanwhile, sits back in her spot, relieved that she doesn't have to stand before all these odd people and speak.

After resituating her book on the log, Jana sits down. She contemplates the bread in her hands and takes a nibble. Ah, Maya is back. She smiles at the woman, offering a silent 'congratulations.' And then she looks at Skyfire again and his feet. Oops... She leans back over to the man to whisper.

Having been caught up by all the sounds and smells, ShadowEyes is grinning like a fool who has never been around so many people before. He grips his flute so tightly with concentration that his knuckles begin to turn white.

LeafLover begins to yawn as she watches the proceedings. She was up early and it's been quite an emotional day for her. She leans back against a log.

Having, unfortunately, arrived late, Spirit-Whisperer remains apart from the crowd. He's a shadow standing away enough to be unobtrusive. It is not his place to presume to disturb the ceremony any more than necessary.

The elders bow heads and confer with each other. It is clear there is some controversy about Kai and being given a name. Murmuring of something too low and too soft to clearly heard simmers down to a palm slap on the thigh, and finally a scowl. A gruff tone calls out. "Come forward. These old bones grow tired and need to get this done, a few more to go."

Inek arrives from the east, leaving the corn fields.

The elder, known to his tribe-mates as Stone-Stare for his flinty eyes, watches the Atlantean approach, hands clasped upon the pommel of his staff. He listens to the disagreements amongst his companions, then lifts his chin a little, appraising with his cool stare, then begins to speak. "It is with mixed feelings that we grant this name to the Atlantean Kai. Some of our people have had uneasy feelings about an incident they would not discuss. It was our hope this will not occur again, so grant the name of 'Sea Hope' to him."

The Atlantean representative's eyes widen in surprise. He seems shocked. His entire frame vibrates with the emotion. And then, with exacting correctness, he bows and makes his way back into the shadows to be with his peers again. Not one word is spoken.

Eranthe looks ... well, panicked. Did they mean for her to come forward? Or for the Atlantean to do so? She kind of looks back and forth, her wings flitting nervously. She'll just stay right here. Yup. Those feathered limbs nearly smack into a passing Sylvan, her clumsiness being in attendance tonight.

Skyfire relaxes a little and slides a sideways glance to Jana beside him, a look both thankful and discomfited at the same time. But now he can concentrate better on the proceedings without worrying about being tripped up by overzealous vines.

To one side, a Sylvan warrior approaches Eranthe. Gestures are eloquent and add to his low voice as he invites the Empyrean woman in careful terms to approach the fire and the Elders.

Jana slowly leans back from Skyfire, eyes now glazed over and unfocused. She leans her weight forward onto her elbows, resting them in turn on her knees. She no longer concentrates on the ceremony so much as she does on this man, though she does throw the occasional glance to the elders.

Now attention rests on the Empyrean. Aside, one murmurs to Thornlance. "The Halfbreed Tun. Ready him please. He is the last, then just Sylvans remain. Bring forward LeafLover after him."

Inek makes his way into the clearing and unobtrusively finds a seat.

See? It was smart of her to wait. Eranthe nods to the warrior and, after carefully tucking her wings in close to her body, she makes with light steps over to the Elders. She bows her head and curtsies respectfully. And look! She didn't even knock anyone over.

A shiver runs through Rabi, making the firelight-reflections on her sari tremble. She closes her eyes and leans more heavily against Aba for a moment before straightening.

Maya watches her charges with lips that draw into a tight line for an instant. She seems to assess both and then relax slightly, turning her attention back to the ceremony at hand.

Tun remains seated at the very back of the grouping, worrying another unsuspecting and innocent leaf to stripped ribbons, in a world very much his own. Wherever the world is, it is not a happy place, and the serious, almost dour expression on Tun's face make him look more the Varati than not. Perhaps this is why he has separated himself from the festive ceremony.

Flint-chip eyes slice like their namesake to Eranthe, and settle there for many heartbeats. Stone-Stare looks over the crowd, then considers the Sachem for a small while, before speaking again. "Lysander was to be named 'White Raven,' for white wings and his intelligence and the fierce way he would try to defend his people, even letting others hear the cry of grief in his voice, sharp as a raven's cry. Since he died, 'Raven's Mate' is given to his wife till she may lose it through indifference or behavior toward us." He again looks over the crowd, then steadily back to Eranthe. He nods to her, expression unreadable.

Willow-Wisp lowers her voice to murmur to her companions. "More Sylvans than I remember ever being here. So many are strangers to me."

Departing from the Atlantean envoy's side, Thornlance peers about the fire-lit crowd, the flicker and play of firelight casting violet shadows onto her ivory flesh. Halfbreed Tun... Halfbreed Tun. Considering that she was elected to this duty only a short time before the ceremony's start, she was not instructed on just who was to be chosen. While directed to the Varati woman, she was given no instructions on the location of the halfbreed. Finally, someone points the huntress in his direction.

Blackwing's lips curl at the naming. She looks away, unwilling to lend her support to such a thing. Nodding to Willow-Wisp, her eyes are dark with more shadows than those cast by the fire.

Lysander. At the mention of the name, Aba stiffens slightly. Rabi supposes she should feel anger but all she feels is sadness and regret. So much suffering. Why? Will we ever know? She thinks.

The Elders motion. Another warrior stalks forward. This one pushes through the crowd with hardly a word to stand over Tun. His eyes rake the halfbreed, turning to a fearsome scowl as he sees the discarded, shredded leaves. There is little doubt to his judgment, but his duty still stands. The motion comes for Tun to join in the bright circle around the fire.

Eranthe gathers in a soft breath and dips her head into another respectful nod once the name has been given. "You honor both my and my husband, for which I thank you." Quiet. Her soft tone speaks volumes of her unsteady confidence but she is trying. Straightening, her wings flick outward once before she steps back. It will be good to get away from the fire, the attention, and all those eyes. Yes. Indeed.

LeafLover's eyes struggle to stay awake and pay attention. So many strangers. So many stone-walkers.

Wolfspirit tilts her head to Willow-Wisp. "Quite overwhelming really." Her voice is low and soft but the last word is caught deep in her throat as she experiences a large kick from her stomach, from one of her babes making sure its mother is still alert, no doubt.

Tun glances upward at the stern motions and pulls to his feet, shaking off his worries, though the underlying sense of them remain. Bad karma. He follows the escort.

Ilex is now within the crowd, despite her strong feeling of being an outsider. After all, she is a forest Sylvan who became a stone-walker. But she still observes.

Many Shadows rises and tosses another short length of the winter's deadfall on the fire. She turns to observe the approach of Tun and another Sylvan seeking LeafLover from her spot in the crowd. She nods slightly to the elders. Her low tone prods them. "Spirit-Walker's vision said a halfbreed might become member of the tribe. It will displease Grandmother and our Gods if we close our eyes and ears to the wisdom they give and to their wishes. A mere name is only the first step, and he may not be the one. He is, however, the most likely candidate if not for the... one who has entrapped his heart. On with it... it grows late."

Some light surprise touches Tun's bark-brown eyes, but he remains quiet. The words, however, bring him slightly from his tightly-spinning thoughts and more to the world that surrounds.

For good or for ill, Stone-Stare's expression again betrays nothing as it falls upon the halfbreed. He studies Tun for seconds that turn to minutes, and minutes that drag on. It's the Sachem's words that bring him out of his scrutiny; he straightens and speaks, "Because he tried to keep us posted on news and tried to help in his own way, the halfbreed gains the name 'Ties Unbound' in recognition of the difficulties he has been through and overcome."

TempestTouch looks to Tun with warmth; it is now her turn to offer assurance and comfort when all eyes rest upon him.

LeafLover sits up, curious to note the words spoken. A half-breed in the tribe? Is he not the one who pulled a knife on her, so long ago?

Eranthe finds her seat again, letting out a silent sigh of relief as she leans close to her companion. He smiles reassuringly at her, his eyes speaking the words that his tongue does not: You did fine. The man passes her nuts back to her, doing this with care so as not to drop any on the ground. The young Dea nods a little to him and then turns her eyes back to the Elders and the ceremony going on beneath the moonlit sky.

Spirit-Walker lifts her gaze; the warmth in her eyes dims a bit when mention of her vision is made. The elder closes her eyes and is quiet for a moment. She listens as the halfbreed is named and opens her eyes, her gaze falling on Ties Unbound. She hesitates and then nods. "So be it," she murmurs as if sealing fate in stone.

Tun meets Stone-Stare's gaze with not so much a knowing patience as the patience leftover from childhood. At the words, however, his lips move, slightly and silently at first. His thoughts still spin tightly and he is near to speaking as Spirit-Walker's staff hits the ground. It hits his ears, shakes his spine, and he is silent. Once the Shaman seals words, they are Truth; no small words may change that.

On and on it goes. This time a very young Sylvan, one just proclaimed a warrior of his tribe, steps forward towards LeafLover and grins with a touch of uncertainty, inviting her to the circle.

A matronly Sylvan leans over to Eranthe. "Most unusual. For you to gain a name from the reflection of another's deeds is... near unheard of. Never in my lifetime."

Skyfire continues to watch the ceremony with rapt attention, glancing only occasionally to the Empyrean beside him. He must remember everything for Jana, for her concentration is elsewhere... and because of him.

Eranthe looks to the Sylvan woman speaking to her, her smile a bit more confident as her participation in the ceremony is now over. Eyebrows inch up toward her hairline, though, the girl curious about the words spoken to her. Never in her lifetime. Goodness!

Tun bows his head deeply to the Sachem and fades back again, having been gifted so.

Many Shadows nods to Tun and awaits LeafLover, a quick gesture urging her forward.

LeafLover stands, moving toward the sachem with a sense of confusion.

Stone-Stare's expression lightens, perhaps, as he gazes upon LeafLover. Despite his sternness, a few of the elders behind him bear warmer, encouraging expressions. "Your name has been spoken of in our councils, and a new path reveals itself to us. The name 'Heart's Ease' has come to us, for the gifts of dance, song, and healing you have shared with the tribe. Like the herb whose name you would share, you ease troubled minds, and help many find calm and peace." Those familiar with herbs would know of the delicate white blooms heart's-ease produces, its usefulness in many remedies. "You may accept this name or not, as you wish," he adds, nodding to LeafLover. "There is no shame in refusal."

Many Shadows 's voice adds itself to that of Stone-Stare. "It is our hope that when you hear it on the lips of others, it will remind you that in times of trouble you have friends... who wish heart's ease for you as much as you bring it to others.

LeafLover smiles broadly. "I am honored, beloved elders. Thank you. I do accept." She bows to the elders, a wondering yet pleased expression on her face. She smiles further at Many Shadow' short speech and nods. "Thank you elders, Inkana."

Crooked Shank thumps his staff upon the ground in counterpoint to the drums. "Heart's Ease. Mmmmf." The grunted reiteration is his form of enthusiasm for the name.

Spirit-Walker nods in agreement and murmurs. "No shame in refusal. Shame in not living up to the gift given," she smiles. "You have made a wise choice, Heart's Ease. So be it."

Heart's Ease walks back to her spot near Tenderheart with a smile on her face.

Many Shadows looks at the tired elders and children growing cranky near bedtime. "One more and we will conclude for the night. Do any wish to suggest a name for a friend? Speak now."

Blackwing rises slowly and raises her voice. "I would speak, Sachem."

Path Walker smiles to himself as Blackwing stands, drumming his gnarled fingers against his walking-stick. He says nothing, but his eyes turn to the Sylvan, studying.

The Sachem pauses. "Any who wish to change their name may approach the council and myself before the four and twenty hours of Naming day are over." Her eyes seek the crowd alertly and she nods to acknowledge the stranger... no, not a stranger, a visitor from the Apisachi. She struggles for a name and finally locates the information deep in memory. "Blackwing? Come forward."

Spirit-Walker turns her attention to Blackwing as she rises. Wizened eyes rest on her as she listens, resting against her staff more than in the beginning. She glances at Many Shadows and then back to the Apisachi Sylvan.

Blackwing steps into the firelight and chooses her words carefully, "One close to me has shown her strength through the past year. She burns from within with the strong flame of truth and knowing right from wrong. And in her heart she holds all Apisachi dear. For the light of her wisdom, I would give Willow-Wisp the gift of the name of 'Fireheart' to take or leave as she sees it in herself to do."

With wineskins getting down to their dregs and only the last of the nuts and jerky left for nibbles, tired children have been let to fall asleep over parents' laps. TempestTouch settles her attention on Blackwing. But rather than watch the woman's face, she peers curiously for signs of the gold the Apisachi have been flaunting recently.

The signs are there. Beaten disks on a string about her neck and the bracelet about one wrist. Her pouch, too, is obviously heavy and hangs weighted at her side.

Willow-Wisp's eyes widen in surprise as her near-sister rises and steps forward. Her cheeks blaze in color. Eyelids lower and bat away tears threatening to trickle out. She cannot reply for a moment, then finally rises. Her voice is rather subdued as she speaks. "I... am honored... and never thought to have such named to myself. Thank you." She accepts simply and eloquently.

This has indeed been a remarkable night. The shadow that is Spirit-Whisperer continues to raptly watch from the background as yet another from outside the Ettowealona participates in this ceremony.

Skyfire chews idly on a fingernail as he watches, eyes once again flicking to Jana. He does almost envy her concentration. But for all his magic is dampened, he still revels in the freedom of the forest even as it is crowded with others this night. His eyes look back to the ceremony, almost forgetting that when this ends he will have to return to the city.

Eranthe finishes off the last of her nuts, dusting her hands against her chimere. She's been so quiet throughout the entire ceremony, simply soaking it all in with an almost child-like sense of awe and shyness.

Many Shadows takes a final glance around the gathering. "Any who have not completed the steps of their naming, may do so on the morrow. For now, go home, rest, or enjoy the music and dancing which will continue till two hours after full dark tomorrow."

Thump-thump-thump. It-Is-So. Path Walker smiles that surprisingly childish smile as Willow-Wisp accepts her new name and he shows his approval. He listens to the Sachem's words, then carefully rises, supporting himself lightly with his walking-stick.

Maya gathers her wards with little comment, her eyes brooking no complaint as she directs both to accompany her back to Delphi. She nods one last time to the Sachem of Ettowealona before guiding them eastwards.

Skyfire hesitates even as he stands, obviously not wanting to leave...

One sleepy-headed boy perks up at the mention of music. It is plain to see where his interest lies as he begins to mock the cadence of the drums with the tapping of his toes.

Maya's eye is quick on the Sylvan, Skyfire. She shakes her head. "Come now. Things are changing. You may return another time."

Fireheart watches Blackwing and smiles shakily. "I had been thinking since we got here of one for you... but the right combination is evading me. Choosing or suggesting a name is difficult."

Spirit-Walker rises as well. She gives Path Walker a curious look, a hard to read look. She glances around the gathered. "Safe travels to all of you, and may your paths be guided and blessed." And with that, the tired elder starts to move toward the Sachem.

Blackwing smiles and shakes her head slowly, "I hardly know any more, myself, Wi-- Fireheart. It will take time to learn."

If he were younger, Skyfire would have probably thrown some sort of fit, demanding to stay. But as he is no longer that age he sighs heavily and turns to follow the Avatarati, his hands lingering on every branch and stone in his path. But he will hold her to those words... that he may return.

Eranthe is actually rather hesitant to leave. Not that the Palladium isn't nice and all, but being here, with these strange people amidst the dark beauty of the forest at night, seems like a dream. Her companion, though, rises and offers his hand to help her up. The young Dea makes a faint face before accepting the aid and finding her feet. After one last look around, she spreads her wings and takes to the sky, followed only moments later by the man who has accompanied her this evening.

Thornlance stands from where she sits and ambles off into the forest, yawning slightly. She offers a good-bye to Red Quill and a few others before vanishing into the western forest -- to sleep, probably.

Still largely outside the glow of the firelight, Spirit-Whisperer watches as people disperse. Scanning the faces of the group still here enjoying the festivities, he picks out a familiar face. Suppressing a smile, he picks his way over toward the place where TempestTouch still sits.

TempestTouch's fingers twitch to the incessant urging of the drums, now joined by reed flutes and a set of pipes. But she seems content on the whole to sit and watch the swirling of the people quietly rather than join in. For now.

Spirit-Whisperer walks up to stand behind the log where TempestTouch sits -- near her left shoulder. He chuckles as he speaks loudly enough to be heard over the clamor. "Not dancing? With your skill and natural grace, I'd have expected you to be among the first!" Smiling blue eyes are there to meet her should she turn her head.

The voice doesn't immediately strike as familiar, though a sinking feeling dragging the base of her stomach through her feet at mention of actions past doesn't augur well. Tempest turns slowly about, neck craning up to peer at the looming halfbreed. "I've improved since then, but not so much that I feel the need to break some feet and singe my partners by tossing them into the flames." Dry almost laconic wit.

Groups drift away, some back to the city, some to the forests. Others stay to watch the flickering of the flames or to dance and visit, or to pair up and disappear together into the darkness beyond the range of the fire.

FIN  

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