2020.04.12 Holiday - The First Day

Holiday - The First Day
Easter Sunday
IC Date	Sunday, April 12, 2020
IC Time	Midnight
Players	Klara, Ghostwalker
Location	Somewhere past a Shallowing on the Northeast corner of Sept lands
Prp/Tp	Holiday
Spheres	Garou
Theme Song	"Holiday" --Green Day

It's a clear evening.

Patrol is thankfully boring. Klara is doing a patrol on the north side of the Sept at the moment. Ghostwalker on the east side. The two are approaching the northeast corner of Pack lands, however, and the scent of the other is on the wind. Out of sight, but certainly not out of sensing range for the two Ragabash of differing tribes.

Nothing to see. Nothing odd. Nothing going on. Just... wait. That tree looks odd. And did it move? And the blades of grass... they seem to be...watching you. In fact, the general glow of the place looks for all the world like you're each now in the penumbra. Yet neither of you sidestepped.

It had been her turn for patrol, and Klara had been nearing the end of her timeslot - another half-loop to take her back to the caern itself, and she'd have been on her way home. So of COURSE that's when things go wrong. Or, at the very least, sideways. She doesn't know the scent of the garou she can smell - but she had heard a new howl of introduction earlier, so wasn't too worried about it. Or hadn't been, until things went sideways. Now, Klara's eyes narrow and her senses rise. "What the actual fuck..." She's spent far too much time with Rian; it's beginning to affect her english.

Ghostwalker was newer to these lands and thus was obligated to patrol. There was little a Cliath could do to refuse such requests. He trembles at the sudden sensation of Umbral emptiness. This sensation was not unknown to him, but it didn't make it any less discomforting to slip out one world and into another. He reaches up to adjust his dedicated glasses, not that they needed much righting, squinting through the Umbral twilight as he clutches his sides.

When things go sideways, this particular garou doesn't fancy being alone. ESPECIALLY in the penumbra, OR the umbra, OR...well, anywhere that isn't the mundane, really. This is above her paygrade, dammit! Klara shifts her path, eyes swinging from side to side as she moves towards the direction the scent indicates the other garou, giving a sharp whistle as she moves in the hopes of catching the attention of whoever it is. Far better for them to find one another than to wander off alone. Pack animals, amirite?

Ghostwalker closes his eyes and listens. The sound of faint music reaches his ears. The Uktena was, like many of his Tribe, too curious of the Umbral and workings. He begins to move towards the sound of the harmonies, trying to keep an ear open in case someone else was nearby. Ghostwalker like many of his tribe felt the instinctive pull to hide and observe before revealing himself. Something or someone was approaching. He takes to the Umbral shadows and wait for them to come closer...

The music sounds like voices lifted up in song - clearly a well-trained chorus singing in at least four part... no make that eight part harmony. And... is that an organ? It sounds like the sort of chorus that humans might hear in a church, and yet it has none of the negative resonances that garou often attribute to such. But it's distant. To the northeast and up, further into the penumbra, and further away from the Sept lands.

~Garou garou garou garou garou garou~ The sound ripples through the grass and off in every direction in spirit speech - the word one that every Garou knows, even those who don't know much of the tongue of Spirits. The little jagglings of grass are /always/ busybodies, telling everyone who is nearby. Oh, they don't tell exact locations... they're BLADES OF GRASS after all. It's not like they are very coherent. But they do like to gossip a bit.

Ghostwalker tries to be stealthy, as does Klara. But both seem to notice the other... or rather Klara seems to notice Ghostwalker is in a general area, and Ghostwalker spots Klara outright, both thanks to the enhancements given to them by their totems. Ghostwalker squints out from Umbral shrubbery. He was one with the ficus... or Joshau Tree... or whatever life filled the Umbral echo of SoCal scrub. He watches the stranger appear from his hiding spot, echoing whispered settler legends of his own ancestors. He denotes the careful step of the Garou woman, whomst he suspected as much for the tattletale grass spirits. Were he an Elder, perhaps he would have had the patience to stay hidden for longer. He steps out of hiding, lifting a gloved finger to his lips and offering the stranger his most friendly wink. "Do you hear that?" Even his whispers sounded genial.

Between her nose, and her own knowledge of stealth and hiding, it isn't too hard for Klara to spot Ghostwalker in his chosen spot. Her grin flashes, bright and quick. She lifts her chin slightly in acknowledgement of the other garou, and moves quickly over to join him. "I do...and I //so// want to know what it is." Her weight shifts slowly from left foot to right, almost as if she's fighting the urge to run off and do precisely that now that she's found the garou she'd smelled earlier. "Almost-Too-Far, Silverfang fostern ragabash, beta of the Broadway Knights pack...and my full Fang intro can wait for another time," she murmurs, eyes darting in the direction the music is coming from, finally taking a step that direction, unable to help herself.

(softly) ~Garou garou garou garou garou g..a..r...o....u g....a....r....o....u~ (trailing off into the distance in all directions)

Ghostwalker 's the corner of his lips twitched just a bit as she gave he introductions, sparing him the string of titles and accolades that with Silver Fang introductions. "Ah-- It's not a moot so we can afford to be informal," he rubs the back of his neck with a gloved palm before introducing himself. "Ghostwalker... of the Uktena. Uktena New Moon. Beckett is fine. Human names are... comfortable. I belong to the pack of the Eternal Spring." He trails after Almost-Too-Far. His own interest in the Umbral symphony didn't need any more elaboration than a nod of agreement and action. On the way towards the source of the song he asks the other Trickster: "The gauntlet is unusually thin... Is it normal?"

"Klara is my homid name, if you prefer," the woman offers. Her accent is distinctly Russian, thick but not overpowering. "I've never heard about that on caern lands, but...I guess it's possible. Can ask when we make it back." Not if, when. At least Klara's confident. Klara is careful with her foot placement, trying to remain quiet and stealthy (if the damn grass will keep its gossiping, tattling ways quiet). "But honestly? I don't like it - with my luck, it's more of the damn snakes that seem to have it out for the Fang in Prospect." she mutters as she leads the way towards where the northeast and...up?

The chorus comes to a triumphant conclusion to the current stanza, loud enough that individual voice parts can be heard, but then fades out again into a quiet interlude between movements of whatever classical piece is being sung. It's... richer than any mortal composition, for suddenly it breaks into 32 part harmony. That's not a harmony one would ever hear in the mortal world. It's beautiful. It's triumphant... And it's to the up-northeast. The opposite direction as the Caern. It teases at the senses of the two garou introducing themselves to each other.

Ghostwalker says, ""Snakes?" He asks curiously. He doesn't say much but his tone emphasizes the fact that he wants to know more. The music's call was so seductive though and he continues to move towards it. "I," he remarks of the song, "wouldn't mind listening to this more on the regular.""

Klara HAS to know where that music is coming from. WHO it is coming from. Her pace has picked up, slightly, though she's still moving carefully. "Tribal thing...but yeah, sometime," Klara answers the unasked question, apparently picking up on it instinctively. "Yeah...I wanna know who it is, but the fact that it is so...hypnotic is kind of...worrying." Ah, there's the Felicity influence. Rian for cursing, Felicity for sense. Got it.

The music is beautiful, calling to the very soul. As the pair moves towards the music - what one would call northeast and up - the path seems to wind up above the trees, paths of moonlight beneath their feet as they move towards low-hanging clouds. The trees are still on either side - for this doesn't seem to be /far/ from the material plane, and yet the path continues - a broad path with the music getting louder with each step.

The trip could have taken a minute - or an eternity - as, after all, how DOES one mark off time in the penumbra? Oh there are ways, but neither of these two are theurges - nor experienced Umbral travelers.

But before long, the two round a corner of cloud - the tops of trees popping up out of the clouds as if they were only shrubberies on the 'ground' that is the cloudtops. And there, before the pair is what appears like an earthly church - but with no religious symbol on it, the music clearly coming from within. It continues to grow in beauty, breaking into 64-part harmony, and yet no new voices have been added. It's almost hypnotically beautiful in tone. And yet the two don't feel like their senses are dulled. Just that the music is hauntingly perfect - exultant - celebratory. If anything, it raises their spirits, and makes them stronger!

The path is easy enough to follow, and the music is enough of a draw to make sure Klara doesn't get bored along the path. "Whatever this is...I like it but I don't like it," the fostern admits with a slight crinkle of her nose. As the 'church' comes into view, Klara's steps faulter and she inhales sharply. "This is bigger than us, but...I...gotta know..." she mutters, her curiousity drawing her to start forward again.

Ghostwalker looks towards the 'Church'. Again the Anruth is unfamiliar to territory of the local Garou. He defer's to Klara to ask: "What's here on the other side of the Gauntlet?" He approaches the house curiously attempting to feel it out with spiritual senses.

Ghostwalker wants to know what's on the other side of the Gauntlet? That's /such/ a good question. What IS on the other side of the Gauntlet. Sky. You are up in the air. This would be a bad place to sidestep unless you had a Gift that let you fly... or perhaps one that lets you bounce when you hit the ground without damage.

The doors of the church are open, and within is a choir of twelve young boys wearing beautiful voluminous technicolor robes. The hauntingly perfect music is coming from them. 64-part harmony... out of... the mouths of... twelve boys. Wait. That isn't possible. Well for a /mortal/ it's not possible. And these are very clearly not mortals. They are too pristine. Too perfect to ever be such. The 'church' has the occasional gaffling in the pew - spirits of all sorts of shapes and sizes listening raptly to the music. At the center of the church is a dias - and on it a throne. In a christian church in the mortal world, this throne would be where the priest sat - but on it sits... a rabbit.

Something is off here, and really, this is not Klara's jam at all. She's the one to put a tack under the butt of a perfectly singing angel-boy just to make him hit a sour note. Klara is NOT the one to figure out what strangeness is going on with spirits, the penumbra, or the umbra. But the music is uplifhting; it makes the Russian woman's shoulders pull back, and helps her stand just a little taller. But this is not her homecourt, and...Klara curls her fingers into the palms of her hands, carefully manicured nails biting into the flesh of her hands and helping to focus the ragabash. Her forward momentum halts, and she exhales slowly. "Time to go...this...is above our rank, and better left to theurges, I think." she mutters to Ghostwalker.

Ghostwalker watches as Klara enters the Church. He focuses for a moment, and then peers through. The sheer height makes him sweat and retract his gaze from the material reality back into the Umbra. THe Uktena was certain he could feel his insides squirm. "I hope whatever caused us to come in so easily doesn't happen again," he warns. The voices of the Choir steel his nerves a little. The beautiful harmony was enough to distract him from thoughts of what might happen to their legs should they slip out again. The scene is alien to his eyes. Churches... priests... they were all very European. He felt like he was in a 'different world' doubly so. "I... never did go to Church as a kid," he mutters before blinking and looking to Klara. "You want to go already?" (fixed)

As the two stand outside, peeking in... they can see chorus crescendo again. The music /is/ uplifting. It warms the spirit, and seems to empower the soul. The garous' spirit selves seem bolstered, more powerful, more solid, as they listen to the music. In fact, it's as if they can accomplish so much more. This is right. This is raw power coming from throats that shouldn't be able to make this music. They are both +1 dice to /all/ rolls as long as they hear the music - for the next 24 hours. They are also -1 dice to /all/ rolls as long as they cannot hear the music - also for the next 24 hours. Because this music is so uplifting that /not/ hearing it would be a serious downer.

The rabbit lifts his paw and the music softens. It doesn't stop... it just is less dramatic. And allows rabbit to speak, well... for those familiar with the tone, it sounds like it's actually Rabbit with a captial R. "Welcome, Ragabash of the Silver Fang and Ragabash of the Uktena. You are welcome to celebrate with us, if you wish. Followers of Weaver, Wyrm, and Wyld are all welcome here - where we celebate the Coming of the Holiday." Well, that is a bit odd. Because as stereotypical as it is in the mortal world for rabbits to be associated with Easter, Rabbit itself doesn't have /anything/ to do with such holidays. And yet... Rabbit seems to be presiding over this celebration. Something is /not/ quite right, and yet, there appears to be nothing negative per se. It just isn't... the way it's supposed to be.

Right. Yeah. "Definitely leaving," Klara mutters to Ghostwalker as the Rabbit-with-a-capital-R speaks. Yup. LEAVING. She sketches a quick half-bow towards the rabbit on its throne, her hand lifting, two fingers extended, to salute against her forehead. "Uh...thank you," she offers as she straightens, and takes a very definite step backwards. "We will...uh, return to our sept and let them know of your very generous offer. Um...can you tell me what we are celebrating? What holiday?"

Ghostwalker would echo Klara's question. "Which Holiday?" He glances to the choir of boys as the angelic singing softened. He was certain he remembered something about plastic eggs and marshmellows.

Rabbit smiles. Showing quite a few teeth. Which means... this isn't Rabbit, as Rabbit doesn't have teeth like that. Instead of giving a particular answer, it says in a soft warm melodic tone, "We are celebrating Holiday. Passover. Easter. Eostarra. Solstice. The Birth of the Spirit of Spring. Whatever you wish to Celebrate. Stay. Listen to the music. Celebrate with us, if you wish. Go if you must... none are forced to Celebrate, but by Celebrating, you will find yourself stronger and more fulfilled. Feel free to bring your brethren to listen. We are all stronger together. The more who listen, the more we can Celebrate together." And the chorus begin to grow louder again, working towards another crescendo of sweeping music.

Another motion to Ghostwalker. Time to go...time to go! "Right. We'll pass that invitation on. Uh...thank you, again," she offers with another half bow and more backwards steps. Time to get out of the clouds and go talk to a theurge.

Ghostwalker frowns as Klara makes a motion to go, but straightens his face out enough to force a smile back at the horrible facsimile of a rabbit. "Er-- Of course. The baby jesus day! How could I forget!" Fool that he was, it wasn't the Baby Jesus day but the Dead Jesus day. "How long is the Celebration lasting?" He asks, inching towards the exit while trying to make his best impression to their spirit host.

Faux-Rabbit continues that cheshire sharp-toothed grin, looking at the two back up, as the music continues its crescendo into a triumphant pause... a silence that seems almost painful, with all those in the pew stirring... until the music starts again, and a wave of relief rolls over the group. "Time is a material concept. There is no Time here. We will celebrate the Holiday until there are none who wish to Celebrate. My Chorus will sing into eternity if need be. So tell others, come back... fill the pews... we have so much to Celebrate!" Those in the pews are rapt, listening, watching... as if nothing else exists but the music.

In the end, Klara actually reaches with a hand to try and push Ghostwalker more quickly out the door, behind her, keeping herself between him and the not-a-rabbit-Rabbit. They've said their niceties; they've been told they are free to leave, and so that's what Klara's going to make sure they do. No more words, which for this particular Fang is odd.

Ghostwalker feels himself tugged and pulled away, probably for his own good. His Tribe's totem was so hungry for knowledge of oddities. Eventually he seems to come to his sense about leaving. Every following footstep away from the music felt like agony, though. He had to fill the space of drifting must with chatter, speaking alloud the plan that was probably already obvious to both Garou already. "Right... lets go back to where we found each other. We're too high up to go back from here."

It isn't hard to find the way home. There's a path to follow, after all. Down and to the southwest. Past the cloud-hills with treetops sticking through them and looking like shrubs, down below the clouds and back to 'ground' level. To the Shallowing that led the two here... through and out to the ground. Until the Shallowing was reached, the singing of the chorus can be heard, uplifting the two, giving them strength and power... but once back in the real world, the intense quiet sinks in, sinking spirits... at least for the day until the memory of the beauty of the music fades. What the F*CK /WAS/ that? Good thing there are plenty of others to tell of this experience...

"Yeah...and then find a theurge...or eight." Klara mutters as they make their way down the path back towards home. She doesn't run, but she makes a point of getting the FUCK out of there ASAP. The moment they are in the mundane, Klara makes to shift down to lupus - faster to get back to the caern, and the theurge, and the adren and elders. Yup.

Ghostwalker grumps. "I'll be doing a little research of my own. We Uktena are all a little bit Theurge anyway." He doesn't continue on, instead taking on his wolf-skin to follow the other Ragabash more swiftly to return home.