Welcome to Gaia! ::

Very rarely do the majority of Noctua's Sentinels gather in one place at one time; there are few celebrations or holidays that warrant such a gathering to begin with, and on top of that most Sentinels consider it uncomfortable to have so many others pressing in on all sides, but tonight is an exception to the rule. Tonight is the Winter Solstice-- or, as most call it, The Longest Night. The longest night of the entire year, in fact, and therefore a symbolic triumph of all things Nocturnal over the sun, the daytime, and everything else associated with light. It is the human equivalent of New Years, Christmas, and Easter all rolled into one-- with a bit of Valentine's Day on the side, too, as the Longest Night also marks the beginning of the breeding season.

Tonight, the moon shines brightly overhead; it can just be glimpsed through the canopy, which is thinner here over the Meeting Area for this purpose alone. Below it, filling the branches of many, many trees, perch hundreds of Sentinels of all colours, ages, sizes, genders, and professions. All are silent, waiting. They're all watching one branch, of one ancient tree, upon which sits The Brigadier.

Even on special occasions, The Brigadier rarely makes 'public appearances', and when he does, he very rarely addresses the Clan as a whole. He has not made such an address for months, if not longer-- not even after the hatching of Tempest, the Spectre chick. All of Noctua's Sentinels wait now for him to speak. Will he justify his decisions? Will he try to convince them of his ideals? Silence reigns.

The Brigadier, sitting alone on his branch, tilts his head back. He stares up at the moon; his blind eye a milky white in the strange light, his good eye glowing red. And then he speaks.

"Sentinels!" The old war bird's voice booms out across the Meeting Area, unnaturally loud in the enforced silence. "Here we gather-- a Clan, hundreds strong! This year marks the first-- the first year since my own youth, long ago-- that our Clan's numbers and strength rival that of what we boasted before the Great Wars!" The Brigadier's head lowers, and he begins to scan the crowd. "And so to celebrate our own rebirth, and to commemorate the Longest Night, I will tell a tale that has not been heard since before the end of the Wars." His voice lowers a bit. "Normally, I would leave this sort of thing to the Bards, but I will beg your indulgence tonight." This draws an appreciative chuckle, which fades back to silence as the hulking old Clan Leader prepares to recite his tale...

"Long long ago, before day was day and night was night, and the world was half forest and half open plains, there lived two twin brothers. Helios and Noctus were as alike as two siblings could be; even their broodmother (and she was the very sky above them) could not easily tell the two apart. Where Helios went, Noctus followed. Where Noctus went, Helios followed. Together, they flew and dove and weaved and hunted through the world as a single being in two identical bodies. Their mother watched this from her high vantage point, and she worried-- because even then it was not natural for two siblings to be so very close, and it would come to no good.

In time, so blended were the brothers that they did not speak as we speak-- they each knew what their sibling would say before the other could open his beak, and so they began to converse only with glances and movement, and eventually became as silent as the animals in the forest. Their mother, heartbroken, sent the tiny nuthatch-- Sitti-- to speak with them on her behalf... and to see if they could still form words.

Sitti found the two brothers perched comfortably in a tree, conversing in their silent way. "Helios, Noctus! Your mother sends her greetings!" The tiny bird chirped, clinging upside-down to a branch above their heads.

The brothers looked at Sitti, and said nothing.

"Helios! Have you no words for your mother?"

Helios tilted his head at the nuthatch, and said nothing.

"Noctus! Do you have nothing you wish to say?"

Noctus fluffed his feathers, and said nothing.

Sitti fluttered down to land in front of the two brothers, and peered up at them with his beady black eyes. "Please," the little bird pleaded, "You must give me at least a single word to take back to your mother."

But Helios had already turned from the nuthatch and flown away. Before he followed his brother, however, Noctus paused a moment to study the little bird. He blinked his large eyes, and gave Sitti his one word: "Goodbye." And then he flew off to find his twin.

When Sitti took the news back to the Sky, she was greatly saddened, for she knew what her children did not: if her children could not retain the gift of speech, then none of the species of the world would be able to retain it either-- and all would be as the animals, mute and alone. She therefore summoned her two children to her, and when both arrived and stood before her, this is what she said:

"My beloved children, it saddens me that I must do this... but you have spurned a gift you have been given, and so you must be punished. Helios, because you have lost the ability to speak-- and because that loss stemmed from your connection to your brother-- I will separate you from him forever more. From nothingness, I will create night and day, and give you dominion over day. Your form will change, and with longer and swifter wings will you fly. But you will never be close to your brother again." The sky then addressed Noctus. "You will keep your form, for you have kept your words, but your punishment is the same. You will have dominion over the night, and eternal separation from your brother."

This was a terrible punishment for the two brothers, but while Noctus bowed his head and grieved at his own folly, Helios grew enraged. He had transformed into a falcon, and his anger burned so brightly that it hurt Noctus to look at. He cried out to his brother: "Helios, stop!" But Helios could not speak, and would not listen. He raged at his mother for what she had done. He raged at his brother, who had kept both his words and his form. His rage burnt so hot that the plants began to whither and die, and nearby creatures were struck blind and later became the mole and the bat and the worm. He burnt so hot that his mother, crying out, took him up into her own body so that he would no longer hurt the world. And there he became the Sun.

Noctus, unable to live in the world without his brother, also went to live in the sky. He became the Moon, and day in and day out, he tries to cool the rage of his brother. Each year, there is a day when Helios and his rage triumph-- it is the day when the Sun burns the hottest, and the longest, and the domain of Noctus is short and warm. And each year, there is a night when Noctus uses his influence to cool the Sun; to cool the anger of his brother. That night is the Longest Night, and we celebrate it now. Tonight, Noctus triumphs over his brother, the sun falcon Helios. Tonight, his children remember his sacrifice, his wisdom, and his suffering. Because of Noctus, we still speak. Because of Noctus, we have this-- the Longest Night-- to enjoy, safe from the burning wrath of Helios."

The Brigadier is silent for a moment, and once again tilts his head back to study the moon above. There is silence in the Meeting Area, save for the wind through the trees and the creak of ancient branches.

"This night is yours, children of Noctus!"

And with those last words-- familiar to all Sentinels as part of the Longest Night ritual-- the Meeting Area explodes into conversation, music, and movement. The Brigadier steps back into the shadows, and in his wake, Bards start up with joyous songs, Hunters and Gatherers bring out the food they've spent weeks hoarding and preparing for just this special night, and Companions flit and scurry through the trees without a care in the world... they know that tonight, no Sentinel will hunt them.

The festival has begun.

Birch had absorbed every word of the tale, and hoped to be able to tell it with the same intensity as the Brigadier. One night that would be him, captivating an audience like that.

He was ready with his Stormbird and as the familiar last words were spoken he started spinning it letting the powerful sound fill the air.

Mag came to the meeting place as one of the last ones, or so it would seem. Actually, she went out as soon as the info about the meeting reached her, but she spent her time lurking around. She couldn't stop her curiousity, her wondering who would show up eagerly, and who wouldn't seem to want to go....
She made sure to leave her companions away, only taking Sol with her. At this time, she didn't want to be bothered... At this time...
...Longest Night.. is it this late already...? Time surely flies... To think that by this time she would be ready for her second offspring, and her first one would be growing... The thought saddened her. Right now she would be ready to take even that strange chick Citrine is taking care of.... But she quickly restrained her thoughts. I'm not a minder! I am an artisan, and I have to take my job seriously! She finally arrived at the meeting place, ready to listen to Brigadier's story.

...and it was nice. In a sort of tear-bringing way. The date, the story, made Mag feel weird, and strangely vulnerable. She ignored Sol's questioned look, and hid a bit on her branch. She wanted her mood to fix at least a bit, before she would be ready to engage into casual conversation.

Against the snow covered branches even Citrine's dulled feathers looked brilliant. The minder fluffed up to give the fledgling that clung to her side more warmth. Even with his own growing feathers he was sill cold when it came to snow. Citrine had deemed it important for her young charge to participate in the celebration, as much for his own benefit as for the clans. They would have to get used to him, and there was no avoiding that.

"You see Tempest, that is why we must always remember to use the gifts we have been given," She said watching him as he turned his large eyes from where the Brigadier had just been to her. Tempest was unusually quiet for a fledgling, only speaking when spoken to or when he had a question that he couldn't seem to figure the answer to. It worried her.

"Okie, Mama." The voice was quiet, and the tone was much like his hatchling cries, not right for a sentinel.

"That's my boy."

A cheerful-looking male Shadow bobs and weaves through the tree branches, shouting greetings to old friends and new ones as he flies about the festival area. There's so much to see and do!

A performing Bard catches the Minder's attention, and he banks to the right just in time to see poor bird whack himself in the back of his head with his own noisemaker. Ouch! The teacher lands heavily on a branch nearby, squinting at Birch in sympathy. "Alright, there? I can get a medic if you need one!"

Adorable. She was an attractive lady, no question, but he firmly told himself that getting involved with this particular Minder would most likely be a Bad Idea. At least, for the moment. He nodded to the little one, eying him curiously before looking back at Citrine. She'd identified his rank correctly, but just as he wouldn't have known her, she most likely didn't know him.

"Sandriver," he offered, settling down for the conversation. It looked like the poor Bard was getting some help, so at least he didn't have to worry about that. "My Warden informed me of your...very interesting situation. Have you had any trouble, then? I understand the Brigadier has given you- and him- his protection."

"By no means has it been easy for the two of us, but we are making due. It is no more than I had expected when I had requested to raise the fosterling as my own." She was worn, that much one could tell by her appearance, but she had not lost any of her fire or determination.

"Would you care to join us Sandriver? We were about to head down to see if any of the food brought for the occasion was still readily available."

Like any young sentinel, Tempest always perked up at the sound of food being available to eat. He had grown considerably, and in retrospect, Citrine had lost weight. Even though she was now eating more than before, feeding Tempest still came first. "We'd be glad of the company."

Bracken listened attentively to the Brigadier's story, letting himself get swept away in the tale. So well told. He was brought out of his rapture by the sounds of bards singing. Singing! Bracken LOVED singing!

Unfortunately, the whole clan was there, so when Bracken joined in, loud and off-key, everyone nearby was subjected to his attempts. Fortunately, as the gathering was so large, anyone who wanted to could flee to somewhere were the couldn't hear the musically-challenged aberrant. Not that he minded, he continued to sing, happily oblivious to how generally bad he sounded.