Rebuilding the Mound

[Matope]

The annual fire is burning, filling most of the Swamp with smoke, even its safe wet reaches smelling of ash.

Although the fire is a time of destruction, its yearly return is celebrated: as the flames ravage old growth in the Cypress forests and the drier reaches, tender new growth emerges. It is a time of welcome end, of ritual sacrifice on the part of the Swamp, the clearing of old things to make way for new.

The festival has taken a different slant this year, though. Although it is still a time of dancing and happy merry-making, a time when all Kin gathering bring the delicacies of their favored part of the Swamp for all to share, its usual location—Ghostthistle’s Mound, the Kimeti-made hillside in the central Swamp surrounded by rolling meadows and gentle bogs in a gathering spot a mile and a half wide—is a ramshackle, half-dismantled pile of old wood and stone.

The flood and the brutal winter, with hard winds and rapidly-shifting temperatures, has ruined the mound, and without any sort of organization, driven by the same instinct that makes fish school and birds flock, the Kimeti are pulling it apart and rebuilding. The central mound is already beginning to take shape, and smaller platforms of stone are cropping up around it as Kin seize the opportunity to make better that which has been destroyed. Young Kin make themselves useful pulling up young trees on the borders of the clearing or marking the trunks with the universal sign of “safe place”; older Kin band together to move large stones and to fell trees, dig trenches, shift the earth, and generally make the place more accommodating for the next large festival.

Between bouts of cheerful labor, there are dances, races, even small dramatic productions; storytellers share snippets of some of the merrier tale cycles with ever-changing audiences. Food brought from strange corners is shared around—the Tidewalkers’ delegation has brought a massive fish with a fin on its back they call a “marlin,” dried in the sun and salt-seasoned; the Kin from the Northern reaches have lugged shells and hollow logs full of fruit away from the burning trees.

As the sun dawns on the second day of the festival, Kin wake in the warm morning light, and there is a smell of rain among the smoke: soon the fires will end. But for now there is another day of work, of camaraderie, and of celebration.  

[Matope]

OOC NOTE

This is an ORP to accompany the current fire event running in this thread. All kin in the swamp are welcome to come and play, going off of the prompt above. While there are no prizes for this aspect of the event, hopefully it will be fun all the same — and, as always, you are welcome to use this RP as one of your Legendary requirements.  

[Vesperiie]

As warm morning light fell upon her face, Edge began to stir, shifting where she was curled up at the edge of the clearing near the base of a tree, around the remains of one of the many firecircles that had been so lively the night before. Her golden eyes slowly opened, blinking sleepily as her head lifted. A glance to the right found Savager curled up at her side, wings twitching as he began to wake in response to her side of their mental bond -- to the left lay her daughter and grandson, curled around each other, and Edge couldn't help but grin. Cornice would never have allowed herself such affection intentionally, the two must have shifted during the night.

A glance around the clearing and the half-formed mound found other kin rising from where they'd crashed the night before, other fire circles now just circles of kin, strangers and siblings from all over the swamp and even cousins from afar. With a yawn, she too got to her feet, a welcome weariness still in her bones, the weariness of hard work and harder play which this new day would bring even more of. She smiled at the thought, eyes gleaming - she couldn't wait to see what today had in store.  

[Amorpheous]

The little squirming bundle of fur, simply known as totoma to some, Little One to others, and Precious to the one who mattered most, Momma of course, managed to free his newly, tumble-strong legs and took a wobbling hop over Momma's legs to land in sprawl on the ground with a soft 'Oomph'. No matter though, falling was easy and when the little foal looked around, he spotted Momma stirring on the ground beside him and Big-Beak-Caution doing the same a little farther off. And on the other side there was Not-Momma and her Big-Beak-Not-Caution standing up looking around. Toddling over, little totoma sat with a heavy breath at Not-Momma's hooves and looked up with his large golden eyes.

Treacherous Snow woke quickly, a blink of the eye from sleep to wakefulness, but she did not rise immediately, nor did she look around. Instead, she listened with a nonchalant air, head resting easily on her forelegs. The most important things were Caution, next to here, and Precious, close by, stumbling, but she is not worried for he will find his hooves and his large plate-like scales are good enough protection. Finally, she shook herself and climbed up with easy grace. Beside her, Caution did the same. A quick, uncaring glance around at the kin all around, her eyes found Precious, sitting at Edge's hooves. Meeting the other doe's eyes, Cornice nodded in greeting before making her way over.  

[Vesperiie]

An oomph drew her attention back to the side, and warmth tinged her wild gold eyes as Edge beheld her grandson, a young totoma lamb, headplate and backplate already hardening into the armor that Dares-to wore so savagely. Oh how she wanted a few of her own to raise, but that did not dampen her pride (she wouldn't admit to love outright) for Little One. As he toddled over to sit at her hooves, she looked down into her own golden eyes two generations down and smiled, bending down to butt their foreheads together, his plate already harder than her skull. "Morning kiddo."

His mother, as usual, was hardly a step behind, gryphon partner in tow. Savager, fully roused then and on his feet at Edge's side, cawed a wary greeting, asserting his presence. The foal he for the most part ignored, but was not blind to the warmth his partner had for it. Edge, done greeting her grandson, turned to her daughter. "And good morning to you, Cornice, looking forward to another day's festivities?" The words are accompanied with a knowing, but not unaffectionate smirk. Both of them knew how Cornice cared little for these events, it was surprising enough she'd even come along in the first place.  

[Samuel Carlin]

"Yes," Leaves-in-Twilight answered to a question no one but he himself could hear. "You're right. More should go here, yes." He'd joined in with others who were repacking earth, nudging and shoving loose bits back in to join with the rest, then stamping it down with their hooves so the next layer could be added and the mound could be be rebuilt to what it ought to be. "It should be higher. Better to see. It is important to see," he continued to agree, nodding his enthusiasm as he stamp-tamp-patted the earth into place.

Perched on a root behind him, safely out from underfoot and out of the way, Spiritchaser sat and observed, as was his wont. If he needed to help, he would. Until then, he would supervise.  

[Amorpheous]

Not-Momma headbutted with him, which pleased the little lamb immensely. Not-Momma always greeted him the way he like and it felt good against the thing growing on his head. It itched sometimes, not as much as when it first started growing, but still the pressure made it less itchy. When Big-Beak-Not-Caution cawed, the lamb made a good imitation of a squawk back at him, head titled and unsettling large, clear golden eyes staring with little feeling at the large creature.

"Mor-ning, N-" The lamb paused before continuing, properly. Momma told him not to call Not-Momma, Not-Momma. Edge if you must, but Grandmother would please her and the easiest way to get what you want is to please the one who has what you want even if you don't know you want it yet. He amended himself easily, "Grand-Edge."

When Momma made her way over, little totoma immediately got up. Not so sleep-clumsy anymore, his steps were much more steady, much steadier than any kin who was not yet half a moon old. He took several quick steps before heading butting into Momma's leg in greeting, backing up a little to look up at Most Important Kin. She looked down and greeting him with a quick knock of her horns against his headplate, causing him to bleat with no little joy. Satisfied that Momma still loved him, or at least that's how the lamb saw it, he rushed at Big-Beak-Caution and headbutted the big-beak in the chest causing her to caw and screech at the indignity, like always. To round it all off, he turned in a large circle and rushed a headbutt at Not-Momma's leg before landing back onto his butt, tail squashed in his sit, to stare and both Momma and Not-Momma. No headbutt for Big-Beak-Not-Caution. It might hurt.

Momma had a serene look on her face, blank and comforting like usual, but she hadn't answered Not-Momma's question. Finally, she looked first at totoma, then at Not-Momma and just said, "No."

Oh well, no wasn't always bad. When Not-Momma had said fire, Momma hadn't wanted to go at first, but in the end, she decided to go and where Momma went, little totoma always followed.

Vesperiie

I think I'm going to do as much of this as possible in totobaby's point of view because it's so much fun. xD

 

[Ruriska]

“You were supposed to organize the troupe for this event.” Prize spat accusingly at Watch Me as they stood together at the edge of the clearing.

The Kiokote did not quite shuffle his hooves, but he certainly looked sheepish and refused to meet her gaze. “As, yes, of course… well… hm…you’re here, maybe you-“

“No.” His suggestion was cut off vehemently. On more than one occasion she had made it clear there would never be any singing or dancing from her.

“But-“

“No, you imbecile!”

The much larger kin sunk a little in the face of cold Acha fury. He mumbled something Prize couldn’t (and didn’t care to) hear, and with one last look of disgust in his direction, she pranced off to find some free food.

Watch Me watched her go and then lifted his head, plastering a brilliant smile on his face as if the entire conversation had not occurred.  

[Ruriska]

The scent of the fires made Swarm nervous, but other than the occasional flaring of her nostrils, she refused to let it affect her outward appearance. She held herself with complete stillness, keeping to very edge of the circle and watching as her kindred hurried about, doing… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what. Many were simply conversing with each other, but others were busy building what looked to be a mound of dirt. It was all very industrious and she liked that. Working together in purposeful creation was something Swarm could understand. To her it was comfortingly insect-like behaviour. But she didn’t know why they were doing it and that had her curious.

The doe glanced back towards the hills behind her, where two massive wasps now sat. They regarded her steadily, allowing her this chance to mingle with her own kind, but ready to rise in her defence if necessary. As always she took strength in their presence and she looked back towards the gathering place. Swarm made no move closer, not just yet. There was no rush and in her own time would be the best time.  

[Lady_Ourania]

It had become increasingly apparent over the last several hours that Wan was not built for hard labor. Despite his eagerness to learn, the buck found himself struggling to keep pace with his fellow kin, often forced to fall back to let some more capable worker take over. Most of his research had required absolute stillness, an ability to focus for hours on end, not to mention a level of precision that verged on excessive. The task in front of him appeared brutish by comparison, yet he was slower or less able than most to decide what went where, what trees required uprooting and which team needed a helping hoof. Several of the older kin had assigned him duties elsewhere, but Wan suspected that they simply wanted him out from underfoot. He could hardly blame them, particularly since he had been fighting the temptation to take himself out of the equation and merely observe all morning. The long muscles in his legs already ached, and his face felt stiff from trying to hide embarrassment at his own ineptitude. No one had been deliberately unkind, the tone of the upcoming festival keeping the atmosphere light and airy in the face of a far-off inferno. But he felt the occasional sideways glances, the mutterings of some older surveyor when he had botched a small, crucial step in the greater scheme of rebuilding.

Someone was muttering now, in fact, and Wanwood turned his head slightly to the left to look at his accuser, unsurprised to find it was dark brown buck that he did not recognize. Come to think of it, he had not seen much of his extensive family milling around the safe zone yet, an observation that left him vaguely unsettled, but not yet given over to dread. The Mound was a large area, and more and more kin were arriving by the hour. For all he knew, everyone had simply gathered out of sight. Tucking in his chin, Wan continued to stomp his little pile of earth back together, intent on ignoring the criticism and his own quiet worry. When the one-sided conversation went on, Wan paused, brow furrowing when he caught a few displaced syllables. That… didn't sound like he was being mocked. Wan scrutinized the other worker as inconspicuously as possible, noting the stripes that crawled along his maw and across his shoulders, the way his eyes appeared distant even as he toiled. It was unclear who or what he was talking to, and it was only politeness that had Wan straightening, clearing his throat out of habit before speaking. "Sorry," he said, shifting uncomfortably at the sound of his own voice, "Were, um… were you talking to me?"

---

It was stupid-early in the morning, the sun barely up and the horizon streaked bloody from lingering smoke. Spindrift dragged his hooves as he strolled around the perimeter of the Mound, not bothering to hide the enormous yawn that cracked his jaws. Trying to sleep in had been a lost cause given the constant bustle and chatter. There were a few familiar faces scattered amongst the waves of strangers, but he saw little reason not to cat-call whoever struck his fancy, stopping in his tracks to banter when engaged. Baiting a Totoma had its perks, and there was always at least one intrepid kin willing to holler back at him. Sure, not everyone was keen on being distracted, but the ones that he could pull away seemed grateful for the break. It was a celebration, after all, and sometimes others needed reminding.

Spindrift sidestepped a half-hearted tail lash, grinning cheekily at the offender as he veered slightly off-course. He spotted the silhouette on the outskirts by chance, attention honing in as he tried to gauge whether or not he should call out. The doe on the hill was motionless, almost eerily so; it would have been easy to mistake her for some overturned rock or untrimmed bit of foliage if not for the colors. Her posture seemed firm, wide, bright eyes drinking everything in even as she hung back. After he'd had his fill of looking, he still debated internally. When he finally decided to approach her instead of simply shouting, his pace was even and unhurried. With this many of his kind gathered in one place, surely he could find at least one like-minded character to while away the day with. There were enough workers already on the job. He needed another reveler.

"You're looking like you should be having more fun," he said casually, the grin from before mellowed out into a lively smile. "Pretty thing like you, up here all by yourself? Come on, we both know that's not right."  

[phoenix kiss]

The scent of smoke brings Flint to the mound. His feet have carried him hither and yon across the swamp, through marshy mangrove swamps to the rolling hills of the soft northern reaches (too soft for his liking, too full of abundance), and he had been making his way into the heart of the swamp itself when the first whiff of smoke crossed him. Now he cannot rid himself of it. It has settled into his hair, and with his habit of tossing it back out of his eyes, every time he moves he gets a lungful of it.

It, like a great many other things, has soured his mood. Or perhaps that much is habitual. His mood sours over the course of a day, as unstoppable as fruit ripening.

He eventually pauses at the treeline to watch the others work together on the mound, a thing that often surfaces in kimeti storytelling and history, but that he has never seen. Beach-raised, there is a great deal of swamp lore that Flint has missed out on. The heavy necklace around his neck, of coral and shell and bone, clinks as he glances down to the eaglehound that trots steadfastly beside him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. The eaglehound has been his constant and only companion, despite the fact it reminds him of his father -- perhaps because it reminds him of his father.

"What the hell is this?" he asks it, and then glances back up to the mound to watch.  

[Ruriska]

The doe had watched the males approach. It became clear, from his intent gaze, that he was her target, and for a moment she had lifted a hoof, tempted to turn aside and escape before he made it any closer. But instead her hoof came down and she held her ground, gaze unreadable as he finally arrived.

“Do we?” She replied to his words with a question, her voice hoarse with disuse. Unable to comprehend the compliment, she chose to ignore it. Swarm tilted her head, expression quizzical. “I’m not here to have fun.” Nor was she alone, but she chose to bring attention to Brother and Sister just yet.  

[Tygress Dream]

The kio doe looked around at all the kin, so many of them working industriously. Others mingled around in the general gathering, but it was the work on which she focused her observation. She'd followed the general assembly and listened to stories along the way; stories of this place. Beautifully Broken was an artist so in her element it was overwhelming. This was a great work to the Swamp something of stature and permanence unlike her own little dedications.

"What a beautiful thing," she said aloud to no one in particular before grabbing a nearby branch and dragging it forward, the artist eager to make her own mark.