Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Anyone with an RP-approved fledgling who has been recently-grown is welcome to drop in and play out their graduation! This will be done on a casual opt-in basis. I will respond as the Warden whenever appropriate. Others are welcome to post their adults or non-graduating fledglings as guests of the ceremony.))

The graduation from fledgling to fully-fledged Sentinel is usually a private affair, but this event is a drastic exception to that rule. Many of those who had begun to fledge throughout the winter are finally ready to take on a task and join the rest of the clan, making this the largest graduation in recent memory. In fact, this particular graduation is a large enough affair that the Brigadier himself has chosen to observe, and many others are here to cheer on the newest batch of Sentinels. The Gathering Place is being used for this occasion, the first such group assembly since the Longest Night, and many Sentinels are using this as an excuse to have another community celebration.

Fletcher is here, of course, as she is for every graduation (no matter how insignificant); she is perched above the level of the ceremony, hunkered down to watch from her remote vantage point. No doubt some of her mus are scattered through the crowd. Several other (far more important) Sentinels are here as well, including an impressive muster from the Elites and even a few sub-Wardens. The largest platform in the gathering place has been reserved for the graduating fledglings, their parents or Minders, and the Warden of the East is situated in front of the group. The other platforms are filled with observers, speaking quietly amongst themselves as they wait for the ceremony to begin.

"This is a little unusual, my fellow Sentinels, so I must beg your indulgence," the Warden calls out, his deep voice carrying easily through the still night air. The fledglings shift nervously where they stand, and suddenly fall still when the Warden's gaze falls upon them. "Never in my memory have we celebrated the growth of so many promising young Sentinels at once. So many promising futures lay before me."

He steps forward, rocking back and forth as he scans the group. A small smile creases his old face, with a matching twinkle in his eyes. "Who will be first to step into their new life?"

Breeze stood tall and silent at the edge of the observer’s platform, gazing intently at the Sentinels who were now old enough to stand alone as part of the colony. Occasions like this always made her feel somewhat emotional and this was one of the rare moments when she allowed herself to show a small part of her deeply hidden sentimental nature. Not this time. She didn’t recognize any of the young adults present. These were not “her” fledglings.

Still, she lingered, slightly curious about the profession the young ones had chosen. Some looked very promising indeed, gracefully built and with powerful strong talons. She suddenly recognized two of them, the male and female she’d seen at that silly bard theatre. Ah, yes, they had grown considerably, that well-built deep woods and the elegant mist. Fixed on the two Sentinels, her eyes widened slowly and an expectant smile took over her face.

The briefest of pauses followed her proclamation, wherein the Warden sought the gaze of a Watcher across the stage.. a quick nod, and then his beak gapes in a broad grin. "Oh, very good!" He chortled, leaning forward to offer the young Sentinel a conspiratorial wink. "I did a stint as a hunter myself once upon a time, you know, so nice to see such a fine lass as yourself stepping forward to do her part for the clan. I am certain you will do us all proud."

The Warden nodded benevolently, glancing off-stage and nodding to another attending Watcher. Her choice has been made and accepted by the clan, her name has been entered into the oral tradition. Tama is now a Hunter for the Clan. This silent acceptance and official recognition of her new status is over within moments; one can only imagine what might have happened if the assembled Watchers had deemed her unfit for the task she had chosen!

It was a graduation ceremony, the process traditional that nothing was every new aside from those who attended and after a while, there was a set stock of those who came each year. Sly hardly could place himself on that list. His attendance to these events where scarce, as where most gatherings that didn’t serve any real necessity in purpose. So why would the Shadow bother himself with a few bobble-headed fledglings who had recently ripened to maturity and now where making their goals know? Well, he certainly wasn’t here for them. No. His full impression was to the Elites and the Brigadier himself. Whenever he heard of such a group collecting, even for sentimental values, he made a point to attend. Even if it was gossip, he usually worked his way to some location that was rumored to collect the group, unless it was strictly enforced for it to be for high officials only. In that case, he made it a point to stay clear and not upset anyone.
In this case, he willed himself to be attentive, awake, and fight off that growing desire to make mumbling wisecracks. Biting down on his tongue, he took a spot on a branch right on the outskirts of the main observation platform, which was surprisingly full with parents, officials, and Minders. A few he let his eyes pass, other’s he tried not to make direct eye contact, (these being the Elites as he found himself not in high enough regards to have the luxury of direct eye contact), and a few he curled his features at the ones he disliked, which was most.
As the Warren spoke, Sly turned his attention to the stage, where a mass of nerves and ruffled feathers where hugged into a ball next to Warren, who spoke with a proud, bellowing tone to the group that without strain, his voice carried.
It came as a surprise that his devoted focus on the Warren, which often hypnotized his attention, was unable to anticipate the sway of the branch beneath him as a new weight was added. Startled, Sly regained his balance by opening his wings before his eyes turned to look at a rather gaudy painted Sentinel male.
“Hello Sly. I did not expect you to attend.” Sequoia said, the male making himself comfortable at his new perch as he looked over with a merry twinkle in his eyes. He spoke in whispers, despite it not being necessary. Being further off, higher above, and with the noise of anxious onlookers, their voices where drown out.
Sly cringed, bringing his feathers back to their place as he stepped away down the branch a few paces to get to what he deemed as a comfortable distance. He would have flown away but with the graduation underway, it would be seen as rude and he did not want to show that side of himself to a company of officers.
“ I did not expect to attend, but I thought it best that even I show up to wish so many fledglings luck.” he said, lying through his beak.
Sequoia would have loved to take Sly’s word, but he knew far better. “ Still double-tongued I see.” Sequoia said, looking out to the young adult that had proclaimed how she wished to be a hunter. It seemed to perk Sly’s attention as the female stated that profession and Sequoia noted it. “ She seemed certain about her future. Remind you of anyone?” Sly’s eyes narrowed, but he did not tear his eyes to the painted male.
“ You talk too much. Shouldn’t you be singing sonnets to the insane?” He bite back.
Sequoia cringed, not liking how he hinted about his friends, but he let it go easily. He long since learned Sly’s methods.
“ I may talk too much, but at least all my words are truthful and matter. You could talk as much as I, as I’ve seen you do, and when weighted to how many words are spoken to what you mean, you’d have barely uttered a sentence.” Sequoia said.
“ ….luckily it’s my actions that matter and not my speech. ” Sly retorted, quick to rebuttal. Sequoia continue to smile at this. Sly might have been rude, but he was quick witted, something that like sharpening his dull wit with Sly’s sharp, sharpened his in turn.
“ Yes, you where and are quick to action. I believe you where one of the first that declared your profession during Graduation, where you not?”
Sly’s features went somber as his brow creased in thought. “ You make poor conversation. Be silent and show some respect to the graduates.” He said. Sequoia looked at Sly for a few moments, knowing the male had found his excuse not to reminisce as he had no real respect for the ceremony. Deciding not to prod until after the ceremony, Sequoia turned to watch the Sentinels.

Sly himself felt relief in Sequoia’s silence. The aggravating Sentinel tended to pull his strings at times. As Sly watched the scene of the Hunter being accepted for her task, his mind couldn’t help but feel itself pulling out from Sequoia’s mental tweaking and return to his own graduation.

It had been unnatural cooler, but to Sly, being a Shadow tended to make winter a bit more unbearable than most. The day was clear and he felt himself a bundle of nerves and energy that mingled into a unsure cocktail in his veins. Part of him had woken this morning worried he was stricken with fever by how jittery he felt, not helped that he had still felt himself just winding down from The Longest Night that had happened only nights prior.
He remembered he kept thinking, ‘This was it’. Unlike the other members of his huddled group, his fledgmates that where more mates due to age than actual tightly-knit company, had talked often on how they felt time had flew. It was the reverse for Sly, for unlike the rest of them, he had been set on his task since early fledglinghood and worked hard, HARDER, than any of them had. He couldn’t wait to be mature! To be useful. To be part of the group, the collective colony, to leave the nest, and no longer need anyone caring for him. To be independent but most importantly, to start his campaign to bigger and better things. Before, he was repulsed at being cared for as a child. Now he was an adult. He puffed proudly at the idea.
Their group wasn’t big, as an unusual winter had taken it’s toll, but it had not hurt them baldy, just touched their numbers. It usually fluxed, or so the Elders kept reminding them.
As Sly stood, he breathed deep, having repeated his desires over and over. Weeks in advanced he would sit in a tree, alone in solitude, and take the pleasure of saying his speech over and over. “I want to be a Hunter. I want to be a Hunter. I want to be a Hunter.” It had almost become an intoxicating hymn of his, each time sweeter, that he felt giddy afterwards. It was so close to him now that any day now, he would be free of his childhood forever.
When the speech started, he felt parted in attention, part of him hearing his own heart beat in his head as his feathers twitched, nerves making him ruffle while he tried to quell himself to look respectful and not as giddy, as twitchy, as the others. He was different. He wasn’t a child.
As the Warden finished, the man as inspiring in his form as Sly’s own teacher that it only seemed to make him more anxious for his awaking future, Sly heard the speech end and turned to make his way out. He usually wasn’t first, nor did he prefer the direct spotlight, but he wanted to impress. Instead, he heard another fledgling speak and as he was making his way forward, stopped. Damn. He’d have to wait and he felt himself ruined suddenly, more nervous, at having his dreamt up ideal of this day ruined by someone else being first. Things where going wrong.
Breathing deep, he waited for the fledgling to leave, almost urging mentally for them to finish. What he didn’t expect was there to be a second part. A approval. His attention shot wide as they waited and Sly’s mind raced. Approval? Could they be denied their future?! Could he not become a Hunter? The sheer idea shot shivers down his body. What if he was denied? Would they force him to a crafter, a bard, a artisan?!! He felt himself weak in the legs at the idea.
No. He HAD to be a Hunter. He would make them approve.
As the first fledgling left, he approached, his body a shark black against the sea of colored dyed wings and lighter feathers. If it wasn’t for the opening of the sky above, he would have faded in the background. His voice caught, and he breathed deep. I want to be a Hunter. He rehearsed in his brain. Speak eloquent. Proud. Impress.
As he thought this, his eyes looked out, and he spotted the Minders who had spoken behind his back, as they often had. Parents of other graduates, other Sentinels he did not know because he was too young for them to bother talking with him, and then two pair of faces. Shadows. Their faces where excited, but they seemed to be holding their breath now, as if waiting for something.
“I wish to excel in that of protecting our grand colony in the tradition of all our ancestors, and in all ways I can and is capable of my very being, wish to serve as a Hunter. “Sly looked out to the pair of Shadows and even through the darkness, he knew they where disappointed and he was proud of it.

Sly breathed deep at the thought, looking back up to the fledglings. How much guidance had they had? Being raised by Minders? Sly looked out to a pair of Minders he knew and spotted Liam, frowning. Poor unfortunates. Much could be done with raw material. Thinking, Sly looked up at the fledglings. From here Sequoia glanced at Sly and spotted a curling smile and for some reason, he felt his feathers stiffen.

Faintly she could hear the murmurs of other setinels, discussing among themselves, greeting each other, some maybe even talking about her. Their voices however were all faint in her ears, like she was hearing them through a tunnel. Her entire being was focused solely on her dream, she wanted to be a hunter, wanted it more than anything! She knew she could do it, knew she would be good at it. Surely they would see it too wouldn't they?

The brief pause that followed her announcement felt like an eternity, she could feel time dragging, suspended and she willed it to go faster. She could hear nothing beyond the sound of her own heart, which beat so loudly in her ears she feared it might burst. Feelings rolled together in one chatoic jumble, coming to quickly for her to name or register. It took all of the self control she possessed, plus a little to keep from whipping her head around as the Warden's eyes sought the eyes of a Watcher somewhere behind her. Fighting the urge, she managed to stay still, trying her best to look calm and collected, despite what she felt. And then, the Warden's beak broke into a wide grin and a tidal wave of relief washed over her. She had made it! The Watchers had approved! She was now, officially a hunter. As the Warden leaned forward to wink at her, she felt a sudden sense of giddy joy. That was right, he had complimented her. The Warden himself, giving her a compliment!

Thrilled, she finally allowed herself a grin, nodding back to the Warden respectfully, and saying, now in a quieter voice. "Thank you sir, I will." And with that, it was over as quickly as it had come and somehow, in a mere moment, she had been launched from lowly fledgling into a full member of sentinel society. Ears still ringing from her acceptance, she made her way to the side of the stage to make room for the next one who would step forward.

It was a pretty mist, with a matching martes -not something very common for a graduate, so this one must be especially good- step forward and announce her desire to be a crafter. She tried to pay attention, but the only thought she could really think of was that she was a Hunter. A real, honest to goodness hunter. It sent a thrill down her spine and she ruffled her feathers briefly, and then settled back down to watch the other graduates.

Odd shifted uncomfortably in the crowd of sentinels. It was rare that he chose to mingle like this and he already found himself missing the safety and quiet of his old oak tree.

Still, he couldn't even bring himself to miss this massive graduating ceremony. It was the largest the medic had ever seen, though he was far back and had trouble differenciating from youngster to youngster. He closed his light hued eyes for a moment and could vision himself at his own graduation.

Small. Silent. Scared.

He huddled amongst those who graduated at the same time as he and all the while he worried that his request to be a medic would be denied. It was the only profession he could think of, other than a bard, that he could excel in. He didn't have much of a singing voice, either, so that was marked out quickly.

He reopened his eyes and shifted uncomfortably on his perch. He couldn't exrpess in word show happy he was that it was long over.

Part of the reason he had decided to come was because of Lore. She, in a way, inspired him to leave his tree and mingle with the others in this surprisingly social event. He was a bit of a hermit, but she had reminded him that there were others than his chirop, Moth, to speak with.

Twilla had arrived somewhat late, yet was early enough to catch the first sentinel move on into her next stage of life.

"A hunter, well I'll be... She'll do well." The gatherer clucked quietly to the surrounding sentinels. She was sure to speak softly enough as to not disturb the graduation. Her pale blue eyes fell on a mysterious looking shadow, like herself, but large. He looked somewhat concerned with something and she felt herself shudder.






Fjord had arrived, too, and took pride in attending ceremonies of all sorts. The lightly hued bard sat with his pica and mus. Feather, oddly enough, was quiet and still. The bard had given him a firm lecture before arriving, but it all came down to bribery. He had promised Feather htat they would find a gatherer and get him some berries immediately after the ceremony, then they would go hunt for shinies.

Crow sat just to the right of the pica and almost up underneath him. The painted mus was close to the strange companion, but behaved in the exact opposite as the youngster they had found all those seasons ago. Before then, she had been a pale white mus, but Fjord had the two painted identically.

A crafter, indeed! Drywood interestedly leaned forward on his perch to get a better look at the young Mist. Maybe she would be interested in constructing some bigger cages for him. It was really a pity that the ceremony did not require the initiates to state their specialty - crafting was really such a large task in and of itself, and Drywood was as always sadly out of the loop with the latest gossip and who was who and so on... Though, the girl had said "trinkets" and that probably meant something along the lines of adornments. Not quite what he needed.

No, on second thought, he would probably prefer to enlist the expertise a more experienced crafter after all. The task at hand did, after all, concern his precious experiments, so the less left to chance, the better, really. He scanned the crowd again, wondering who he could possibly ask (after the ceremony was done, naturally) for a good crafter with experience with weaving and wood. The keepers would probably know, but not all of them seemed to like him all that much. It was a bit of a gamble, but a good plan B in case nothing else popped up.

His keen eyes fixed for a moment on a most peculiar little creature, half hidden away in the crowd far below him. By its color scheme he recognised it as a Deep Woods, but what a horribly ruffled plumage it presented! Drywood fluffed himself up and clacked his beak quietly to himself. Really, couldn't... she - it was a female, too! how shocking! - even have bothered preening before coming to this official gathering? With the Brigadier and his elites present, no less! Honestly, she looked as though she had flown here through the worst storm of the year... Really bad manners. He resumed his scan of the crowd, pointedly ignoring the uncouth creature. Such a slovenly person could not possibly be a crafter - and even if she was, she was certainly not a very good one.


Tousled barely heard Lore's exclamation, as she was still gazing with admiration at the young Ghost who had so bravely stepped up first of all. It must have taken a truly inordinate amount of courage to present herself like that, in front of all these gathered sentinels. At her own graduation, only one of her minders had attended, and three or four watchers, and the Warden had still had to ask her to repeat herself three times before she could manage to wrestle some of her voice back from the iron grip of fear and self-conciousness.

Actually, she still felt her feathers sleek back when she thought about it. She really envied the courage that all these young ones seemed to show - even eagerness! But then again, neither of them seemed to have anything to be embarrassed about: they all looked radiant in their freshly-fledged, carefully preened feathers of various hues, and dreams of the future brightly shining in their eyes. She smiled to herself, imagining them all for a moment like beads on a string, forming a beautiful, multi-colored piece of jewellry to adorn the proud body of the clan. The notion appealed to her, and she started to construct the necklace in her mind while she absently watched Lore being accepted as a crafter.