[DROP] dance of the naiad

Samuel Tell me little dear if you've only lived here, have you ever really lived at all? Sam watched interested as the Naiad stepped onto the water, impressed by her grace. He felt he was watching something sacred, special; maybe something that he should not be seeing. But there he was, and as everyone rushed into the water he slowly approached too. But he was not presumptuous enough to think he deserved to be in the water with the Fae. This was not his celebration, and he was rarely comfortable with being in the centre of attention anyway. Sitting on a rock a little ways from most of the Fae, Sam removed his shoes and socks and sat with his feet in the water, watching the goings on.

He was alone in the crowd, as he was always meant to be, until he was not. Warmth welled up in his chest as a familiar and beloved feline shape alit at his side, joining him in his show of respect for the celebrants and their ways and finishing the work Jyoti had begun to chase away the lingering shadows in his heart. As the litter passed by he straightened and bumped his shoulder into Amalia ‘s side, a moment’s lean of gratitude and affection even as Isuma eeled around her companion’s legs to wend between her big sister’s paws in joyful greeting.

Then they were once more caught, entranced, as the ceremony continued and the young woman – Noble? Priestess? Sacrifice? – descended to the sands. Jigano froze, though Isuma only looked curiously between fox and leopard, too small to understand what was happening. Not that Jigano understood, but he found himself tensing as silence fell over the crowd, a hushed sense of waiting, though for what he did not know.

Into the water the young woman went, into the song and the power of a river that had taunted and rewarded him once before. She danced with joy and wild abandon, grace and strength, and Jigano’s ears perked forward, nose quivering with delight and a professional interest in the dance. He nosed Isuma to remain on the bank, where her feathers would stay dry, but lolled a canine grin at Amalia and gave a foxy wink before bounding into the waters on delicate paws to dance to the rhythms set by the Naiad and the Stonesong, splashing playfully in the shallows as he joined the party.

MELITA

One day, temptation, impulsiveness, and far too much curiosity will do her in, condemn her, swallow her, consume her whole – but the way her eyes caught on the throng, on the melee, on the dancing, nimble columns of fey spirits was reverent. Melita admired the way they twisted and glided along the water, wild, untamed, but not entirely savage or sinister; minstrels of magic and song. The cheers and tunes were mesmerizing things, eclipsing over her senses, until she found herself inching closer and closer to the embankment, caught in the siren swell, watching as the Stonesong became one with their halos and motions. Could she ever do the same? Could she ever be so elegant, so strong, so capable? She was a child of angles and edges, of haunting melancholy and dutiful anguish, torn apart by loss and damnation, without anyone to help her sew the pieces back together – on her own, alone and howling. It is doubtful she’d ever encompass the world these people do – but she was willing to try. You are nothing the realms and kingdoms would say, and she’d whisper back but one day I will be something.

Her hands skimmed over the top of Fangorn’s head, and he hissed a warning, an obvious don’t grumbling through his growls; but she was tethered to the probabilities and possibilities, to the air and ether, to the glory of harmony and pirouettes. There was no thought to anything else; not the foreboding laced in Fangorn’s sentiments, not the trials and tribulations, not the lesson she’d learned all those years ago. Naught but the water, calling, calling, calling, and within an instant, she’d dove for the river, the chill racing against her skin, the water combing around her fiery hair in waves and curls.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

AMALIA

It is a beautiful thing, the celebration of days come and gone. The Naiad is resplendent on her litter, and as she steps upon the water Amalia catches her breath, awed by the rising rhythm of dance, the melody of the Stonesong its only beat. As she did with the starwhale passage, so too does the girl now know that she is in the presence of something magical, an experience and rite sacred and unique.

She only wishes she knew its meaning- but perhaps there is one who can reply. Shifting into human skin as Jigano moves to join the merriment, Amalia slips back to where Ianto stands. "What does it mean?" the baker whispers, watching with rapt and hungry eyes as the Fae begin to celebrate, rushing into the water and joining the dance. Even Jyoti does not hesitate: the calf trills merrily, diving down beneath the water, only to emerge a moment later, a cloud of starlit river in her wake. "Are we meant to join them?" The question is clearly less a should we than a can we, her eager desire to join the dance written clearly upon her face. Indeed, even before he gives assent she steps toward the water, leopard toes dipping within, a broad grin flashed toward the fox as she joins, feline, in the fray.

You are flesh and blood
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The expectation of what would come next made him hold his breath, eyes narrowed, suspicions heightened, uncertain of anything and everything in those strangled moments – would there be fire? Would there be bloodshed? Would there be something else? It was answered amidst the Fae stepping down, along the water’s edge, light surging, Stonesong imploring, and the river called, siren, as they danced. He didn’t know what any of it meant, neither Fae or Natural, Outlander and Abandoned, forsaken and desolate, but still curious and drawn, inexplicable, without explanation, except the current, the rapids, coiling against his mind. Come, they said, in some familiar strokes and hymns, and he swallowed it down, retorted in silence. What if it was a trick, a ruse? What if it was meant to entangle and brutalize them, more sacrifices meant to batter against the rocks, ichor and lifeforce staining the rapids? Or what if it was celebration, and they were simply incapable of comprehending it, too human, too mortal, too absorbed in other things, away from the ethereal, from the ether, from the air and elements? Before he could stop himself, he was on the edge of the embankment, stopped only because he had the slightest hesitation, because he was unworthy, because he didn’t want to be tangled into one more seething trap, one more imploring snare. His eyes found Jyoti though, watched, as the starwhale slid amongst its brethren. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Having straightened up from his bow, grinning broadly at the sight of Remi showing perfect raccoon-deference, Ronin arched an eyebrow at the beautiful - and unexpected - dance that unveiled itself before them. He breathed out a 'whoa' as he took it all in, and the Fae were already in the water by the time Ronin realised what was happening. His feet had taken him to the shore before he knew it, the hunter kicking off his shoes. He smiled down at Remi. "Well, in for a penny," he murmured, stepping into the river to paddle with his furry friend still gathered up in his arms. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.

LUCI

---

If Lucas hadn't bent the knee to the box-woman, he certainly wasn't about to follow her into the bloody river. Still, he watched with a sly hint of respect as she managed to dance on the water, tilting his head slowly to the side and watching with glinting green eyes that caught on the reflection of the will-o-wisps.

Eventually, he glanced to Lily and smirked. "Go ahead without me," he said, moving to stand back from the celebrations. He was happy to watch from here, thanks.

Ianto

Ianto was breathtaken by the performance, his cheeks flushed with it as Amalia stepped up to join him. "The Naiad... she's a symbol for the Sea of Branches - that's the settlement back there, on stilts. Since she was born her feet have never touched the ground. I can only imagine this ceremony is to end her duty, and welcome a new Naiad into the role."

Giving her a gentle nudge, he flashed a golden grin to the woman beside him. "I'd say it was rude not to, eh?" He laughed and - together with Amalia - he rushed down the bank towards the babbling waters. At the last moment Ianto shifted into his fox fur, splashing and yipping his way into the celebrations.

Coding base by Sky!

lily from what i’ve tasted of desire i hold with those who favor fire She would have gone in without his permission - but it was cute he thought she’d stay back because of him. They’re dancing, and dancing is one of the things Lily likes best. Offering Lucas a shrug and a brief squeeze of his hand, she darts forward with nimble steps to join those who have either crowded along the bank or immersed themselves in the beautiful world of the Fae. She sees Melita diving in, Amalia and Ianto and Deimos and Remi all partaking, so the redhead wades in up to her hips and begins to literally splash around, throwing water and laughter into the air around her.

WESSEX

While she has no intention of being openly rude (other than her refusal to bend the knee), Wessex isn’t much for giant gestures of gaiety. She notes a few others who do not deign to enter the water, either standing at the banks of the river and watching, or removing themselves almost entirely. Of course it’s mostly the hard-hearted and stone-faced who keep themselves apart, either out of pragmatism or feelings of alienation, she imagines. Which one it is for her, she can’t say, other than that this feels like it has the potential to go very wrong, and she’s not sure for which group it would be - the revelers or the wall flowers.

What she will admit is that it’s beautiful to see, and her curiosity at what will happen next is showing.

No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all

random event

The whole of the Stonesong brims with delight as the Naiad culminates her dance, leaving them free to revel and delight in her beauty, in the power of her station, in the knowledge of one cycle ending and another beginning.

But this is still her night - the new Naiad would have her own celebration - and as she sinks down into the waters among her brethren and strangers alike, the will-o-wisps come to pay their respects too; they settle in her hair and on her clothes, and zip along the water's surface.

One of the wisps goes rogue of its companions, hovering before one of the humans who has come to enjoy the celebration. And perhaps it is because it sees in her the same wildness and vivacity as the Naiad that it pauses, reflects... and offers a gift.

Delicate, fashioned out of shell and stones polished by the river, it presents to Melita a small anklet. It let it plop! into the water before dashing away again - she ought to be quick to pick it up!

---

Congratulations Melita for winning the drop!

She has obtained the following item:

Water Dancer | This delicate anklet, when worn, allows the user to step upon the surface of water as though it was solid as the ground. Can be used once per thread.

Coding base by Sky!

MELITA

Melita expected very little, and still strove very hard, quick, light movements across and along the water, enamored, enraptured, wide-eyed, and amazed. She was the picture of recklessness and rash conjectures, a wild, untamed, unabashed thing, made from fire and embers, made from coal and ashes, once stirred by song and melody. It’s their celebration, it’s their motions, chaotic, savage, and free that pulled and pulsed within her: she wanted to snag vivacity too, ring it down in her temerarious endeavors, piece together broken filaments and become whole along the sacred grounds. These were not her mother’s precious lullabies or her sister’s lovely, intricate hums, they were ether and elements, strands of pearls and opals, watery fixations on streams and hems. She watched, just like the others, her dance within the river, an undulation of chaotic, bedlam upheaval, mere and reverberations of their perfections, seemingly innocuous, nothing.

One of the wisps broke away from its pack, gliding along ripples and currents, and she was delighted to witness its progress and process too – until it stopped before her, a puff of air, a glimmer of grandeur, of opulence, of fey sonnets and stanzas she’d never be able to possess. Her mouth agape, her jaw slackened, her gilded eyes fixated on its sanction, she’d never dreamed of being offered a gift, an extension of nymphs and naiads; stunned, all the more, as it fell before her, and into the water. “For me?” She stammered, the boldness driving a firm frenzy in her heart, and she dove, dove, dove, deep down into the fathoms, hands reaching out for the delicate anklet of shell and stones, desperate to salvage whatever life had to give her, whatever it deigned to throw her way. Her hands grasped, clenched, grabbed it, and she returned to the surface on a steady inhale, on a whimsical, ebullient, enthusiastic smile, unbidden and liberated, released from her impeccable haze. “Thank you!” It was a roar, it was a howl, it was a beating blend of her heart and lungs; for your kindness, the expression not enough to convey the sentiments floating through her - and the celebration curled, coiled around, drums ricocheting off her chest. All was not lost.

{Thank you admin! <3}

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight