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+--- Thread: PRP now i'm a believer (/showthread.php?tid=11323)
now i'm a believer - Calyx - 4/25/2026
RE: now i'm a believer - Aisling - 4/27/2026
She was alive.
So was the world.
Each inhale brought with it the taste of nectar and green - the clean, delectable notes of the earth and its very lifeblood. Spring was in full swing after what had been an unyielding winter and the darkest of days.
So why could she not truly enjoy the patchwork of sunlight that filtered through the evergreens? Even as it gilded her, she watched it dance and dither with a faintly pinched brow. Her thoughts wandered just the same as her paws, but both were out of sync with one another - passing ships in the churning sea of her turmoil.
With the end of days whisked away, her homesickness was keen. Digging into the sensation, she realized Beltane was surely soon - would her family celebrate, even when she wasn't there? Did they search for her, did they even feel her absence? She was not even sure they lived yet, but she could have sworn she heard Foxglove ’s voice as the world took its first gasping breath and shoved back the blanket of winter.
Had she imagined it? In all ways but blood, he was her father; she did not want to think him capable of forgetting about her - but she also did not think her biological father should have been able to discard her so easily, either. His face was hazy in her memories, more a sense of a figure than actual substance, but she could not dispel the sting of his rejection.
The creaking of a branch brought her back to her surroundings, and her forward motion paused as she turned her attention to its direction. From the bough slipped Calyx, melting from his perch to join her on the ground - his name for her on his tongue. Rosa. Truth be told, she didn't know what Rosa meant and, at this point, she was too scared to ask. She had long given up convincing him to call her by her actual name - she had two of them to choose from, though the name given from her father’s culture, Philomena, was one she could live without hearing - and she wondered, not for the first time, if she ought to give him a name in kind.
Two could play at the nickname-giving game.
His question made her aware of the divot between her brows and she attempted to relax her facial muscles, smoothing it from existence and tacking on the world’s flimsiest smile to mask the melancholy she had been carrying around with her.
He was a little strange, but she didn’t think that was such a bad thing. It was… endearing; he marched to the beat of his own drum, even if no one else could hear it. There was a freeheartedness in it that she envied.
It also might be the substances he ingested, but who could ever truly tell?
So was the world.
Each inhale brought with it the taste of nectar and green - the clean, delectable notes of the earth and its very lifeblood. Spring was in full swing after what had been an unyielding winter and the darkest of days.
So why could she not truly enjoy the patchwork of sunlight that filtered through the evergreens? Even as it gilded her, she watched it dance and dither with a faintly pinched brow. Her thoughts wandered just the same as her paws, but both were out of sync with one another - passing ships in the churning sea of her turmoil.
With the end of days whisked away, her homesickness was keen. Digging into the sensation, she realized Beltane was surely soon - would her family celebrate, even when she wasn't there? Did they search for her, did they even feel her absence? She was not even sure they lived yet, but she could have sworn she heard Foxglove ’s voice as the world took its first gasping breath and shoved back the blanket of winter.
Had she imagined it? In all ways but blood, he was her father; she did not want to think him capable of forgetting about her - but she also did not think her biological father should have been able to discard her so easily, either. His face was hazy in her memories, more a sense of a figure than actual substance, but she could not dispel the sting of his rejection.
The creaking of a branch brought her back to her surroundings, and her forward motion paused as she turned her attention to its direction. From the bough slipped Calyx, melting from his perch to join her on the ground - his name for her on his tongue. Rosa. Truth be told, she didn't know what Rosa meant and, at this point, she was too scared to ask. She had long given up convincing him to call her by her actual name - she had two of them to choose from, though the name given from her father’s culture, Philomena, was one she could live without hearing - and she wondered, not for the first time, if she ought to give him a name in kind.
Two could play at the nickname-giving game.
His question made her aware of the divot between her brows and she attempted to relax her facial muscles, smoothing it from existence and tacking on the world’s flimsiest smile to mask the melancholy she had been carrying around with her.
I was just thinkin’ o’ home, Púca ,she offered, deciding that, just like the fae, he always seemed to show up when his guidance - or perhaps just presence - was needed. He mended her twisted paw, led her to safety when the earth threatened to swallow her, and now he was brought to her when her thoughts were laden with heaviness. The thought wove a shred of genuine warmth into her features.
He was a little strange, but she didn’t think that was such a bad thing. It was… endearing; he marched to the beat of his own drum, even if no one else could hear it. There was a freeheartedness in it that she envied.
It also might be the substances he ingested, but who could ever truly tell?
I realized it must be nearly Beltane by now, with it bein’ spring an’ all,she elucidated.
We - my family - usually celebrates it.
RE: now i'm a believer - Calyx - 4/28/2026
RE: now i'm a believer - Aisling - 4/28/2026
The glow of his jaws should have been unnerving, and perhaps to someone - many others - it would be. But to Aisling? It evoked no sense of fear or nerves; he was Calyx, and somehow, the latent manifestation of magic suited him. Perhaps his smile was not the thing of radiant sunshine, but it was the fluoresce of the world's secrets and that, in itself, was equally a wonder.
Besides, who was she to judge when her own eyes had taken on a subtle shimmer of light when she was crowded in darkness. Those silver-lilac eyes were trained on Calyx as he approached, her ears cupped to him.
His question earned a faint tilt of her head as the gears within turned. Where was home to her?
Was it the Meadows, where she had lost many fragments of her family but retained some, too? It was a thing of scattered memories both old and new, some more tarnished by the hands of time than others. Her mind, too young to encode much of the unrest in her earlier days, prevented much from reaching her, but the heartache seemed to be bled into the Meadows' soil and propagated from the roots it fed. But her mathair insisted on building their Kingdom there.
If she saw something worth creating there, then that had to mean something.
But that wasn't the only land embedded in her blood. There was another that was bonded to her family, the blood of her ancestors driven into the fabric of it like golden thread.
Was home back in Talamh, on her family's farm and surrounded with so many uncles and aunts - boundless forests and nature to venture through? She had seen so many things she could never have fathomed within its rolling hills of long grass that tickled her fingertips as she traipsed through them with her sisters or younger nieces at her heels. There, magic was alive - she was a part of something greater, something sacred that hummed in her veins and spoke a language she did not need to be fluent in to understand because it transcended words.
But did that make it home?
Beyond a brief visit to Northfall of which she recalled little of the journey, she had been nestled safely into the Meadows' embrace until the Veil snatched her whole family away.
Her ears reversed as she remembered the Meadows may not even exist anymore. The last time she saw the lands where she drew her first breath, a fissure divided her from it. If she and Calyx lingered, she knew in her bones they wouldn't be above ground now.
It did nothing to diminish the stirring sense of guilt - guilt because, while she longed to see them, she was equally afraid of confronting the potential reality of finding her home torn asunder and everyone and everything she knew gone. So although the sun showed its face once again, she found herself making no movement outside of this territory.
Maybe it made her a coward, to shy away from the truth of the matter.
Her train of thought was coaxed from her as Calyx warmed to the idea of a "Beltane." His curiosity was enough to keep her on the trajectory of brighter thoughts.
Okay so maybe it was about more than flowers - something about harvests and asking the gods and fae to bless them with bounties in the coming months as they toiled over fields and worked with the land to feed their communities. But was it so bad to give flowers a little more focus? Without their bright blooms, the bees would pass them by, and if her grandmother was to be believed, that would spell disaster for them all.
It had taken her forever to get the purple pigment out of her pale fur after that, but the blueberries and blackberries had been perfect - how was she to resist them?
But beyond the sweet grasses and berries her family harvested for the festivities, there had been the mushrooms with an... enhanced effect that she had been expressly forbidden by Fable to consume.
Mushrooms that she was fairly certain she had seen in Calyx's belongings. Tipping her chin down so she could look up at him with curiosity as he asked her what she did for Beltane.
There was no one to tell her "no" here, no one to warn her against recklessness. Impulsivity fizzed beneath her skin, a conspiratorial edge setting up shop across her features.
There were no fermented berries to be found, but the mushrooms? They could definitely swing that.
Besides, who was she to judge when her own eyes had taken on a subtle shimmer of light when she was crowded in darkness. Those silver-lilac eyes were trained on Calyx as he approached, her ears cupped to him.
His question earned a faint tilt of her head as the gears within turned. Where was home to her?
Was it the Meadows, where she had lost many fragments of her family but retained some, too? It was a thing of scattered memories both old and new, some more tarnished by the hands of time than others. Her mind, too young to encode much of the unrest in her earlier days, prevented much from reaching her, but the heartache seemed to be bled into the Meadows' soil and propagated from the roots it fed. But her mathair insisted on building their Kingdom there.
If she saw something worth creating there, then that had to mean something.
But that wasn't the only land embedded in her blood. There was another that was bonded to her family, the blood of her ancestors driven into the fabric of it like golden thread.
Was home back in Talamh, on her family's farm and surrounded with so many uncles and aunts - boundless forests and nature to venture through? She had seen so many things she could never have fathomed within its rolling hills of long grass that tickled her fingertips as she traipsed through them with her sisters or younger nieces at her heels. There, magic was alive - she was a part of something greater, something sacred that hummed in her veins and spoke a language she did not need to be fluent in to understand because it transcended words.
But did that make it home?
The meadows with pink grass when th' snow is gone,she offered, the words rolling from her tongue before she even realized it. The family who remained there were more important than all the magic in the universe, she decided; though Talamh connected to a part of her that craved something it was long denied, the pull was not enough.
Well... I think it still has pink grass - th' snow has been there for so long. I've never left it - until now.
Beyond a brief visit to Northfall of which she recalled little of the journey, she had been nestled safely into the Meadows' embrace until the Veil snatched her whole family away.
Her ears reversed as she remembered the Meadows may not even exist anymore. The last time she saw the lands where she drew her first breath, a fissure divided her from it. If she and Calyx lingered, she knew in her bones they wouldn't be above ground now.
It did nothing to diminish the stirring sense of guilt - guilt because, while she longed to see them, she was equally afraid of confronting the potential reality of finding her home torn asunder and everyone and everything she knew gone. So although the sun showed its face once again, she found herself making no movement outside of this territory.
Maybe it made her a coward, to shy away from the truth of the matter.
Her train of thought was coaxed from her as Calyx warmed to the idea of a "Beltane." His curiosity was enough to keep her on the trajectory of brighter thoughts.
Ye would love Beltane, then,she decided, her smile widening as she minimized more of the space between them. As she passed through patches darkened by the tree limbs overhead, the faint glow of her eyes surfaced until she stepped into sunlight once more.
It's one big party t' celebrate spring an' th' flowers.
Okay so maybe it was about more than flowers - something about harvests and asking the gods and fae to bless them with bounties in the coming months as they toiled over fields and worked with the land to feed their communities. But was it so bad to give flowers a little more focus? Without their bright blooms, the bees would pass them by, and if her grandmother was to be believed, that would spell disaster for them all.
Sometimes, it is th' same, but every group is different, too,she expanded, her expression softening into thoughtfulness as she glanced across all the tidbits her family had offered her about the festival. She had seen only two in her time - one as a wolf and another as a human. They were both very different, but shared some common cores - the one in Talamh was far more enjoyable, given her uncle and the strangers from Avon's Beltane weren't around to tease her for eating all the berries.
It had taken her forever to get the purple pigment out of her pale fur after that, but the blueberries and blackberries had been perfect - how was she to resist them?
But beyond the sweet grasses and berries her family harvested for the festivities, there had been the mushrooms with an... enhanced effect that she had been expressly forbidden by Fable to consume.
Mushrooms that she was fairly certain she had seen in Calyx's belongings. Tipping her chin down so she could look up at him with curiosity as he asked her what she did for Beltane.
There was no one to tell her "no" here, no one to warn her against recklessness. Impulsivity fizzed beneath her skin, a conspiratorial edge setting up shop across her features.
Th' dancing is fun,she held the last word a little longer than necessary, carrying the syllable into a ponderous curl. Aisling was pretty sure he wouldn't deny her access to his stash, but her heart hammered against her ribs with the exhilaration of doing something she was certain would likely earn her a stern look from her mother.
But we also... loosen up with some mushrooms an' fermented berries.
There were no fermented berries to be found, but the mushrooms? They could definitely swing that.
Sooooo... What d'ye think o' a Beltane party, Púca?she prompted, eyes glittering hopefully. If she was going to have her own Beltane party, she was gonna need his help.
RE: now i'm a believer - Calyx - 5/3/2026
RE: now i'm a believer - Aisling - 5/11/2026
His focus did not feel overwhelming or ominous; some might have found it so, given the new glow emanating from him, but not Aisling. It took more than that to unnerve her. He was still Calyx - Púca, even if he was little more illuminated than usual.
A genuine smile pressed across her lips at his words. They offered an effervescent levity she had been unable to reach on her own, a point of view she had perhaps failed to see. Even if the Meadows had been torn asunder and were no more, those memories remained; she would always hold the Ice Rose from Fox close to her heart and all the snow fae she crafted during winter's hold.
If she lingered on the thought, she could feel the press of her sisters' bodies as they all piled into her natal den alongside their mother - and then Beltane's effusive bloom, the bright sprays of flowers, the whirling dances. Even though she had been picked on last time, she had higher hopes for this Beltane celebration for two. The venue had changed, but the ode to memory could go on.
And what better way than to imitate them?
His line of thought seemed to keep stride with her own, suggesting they had everything they needed to curate their own little celebration. Describing the Meadows' grass as "pink fire grass" earned a giggle from her - he had as unique an outlook on the world as she did. She supposed it did look a bit like fire, especially beneath the brushing fingers of the winds.
Her eyes were rounded discs of wonder as he produced the mushrooms she had inquired after. Excitement fizzed throughout her as she peered down first at the offerings and then up to him. Aisling's mother had yet to walk her through safe usage of the state-altering mushrooms, but she had Calyx here - surely that was enough?
Yes, yes it was.
A frisson of rebellious energy strummed through her, knowing that there were no take-backsies now that the hallucinogenic mushrooms were down the hatch. There was no one to stop her from acting on impulses here.
Perhaps it was dangerous, her free will.
Her eyes skirted him to observe their surroundings. Most of the trees were those made rugged by mountain terrain, but she spotted one with some vines constricting it and a few leafy ones dripping from its boughs, some of which dragged the ground - perfect.
A genuine smile pressed across her lips at his words. They offered an effervescent levity she had been unable to reach on her own, a point of view she had perhaps failed to see. Even if the Meadows had been torn asunder and were no more, those memories remained; she would always hold the Ice Rose from Fox close to her heart and all the snow fae she crafted during winter's hold.
If she lingered on the thought, she could feel the press of her sisters' bodies as they all piled into her natal den alongside their mother - and then Beltane's effusive bloom, the bright sprays of flowers, the whirling dances. Even though she had been picked on last time, she had higher hopes for this Beltane celebration for two. The venue had changed, but the ode to memory could go on.
Ye are right,she agreed, a flash of a grin brightening her features.
We must celebrate memories t'keep them.
And what better way than to imitate them?
His line of thought seemed to keep stride with her own, suggesting they had everything they needed to curate their own little celebration. Describing the Meadows' grass as "pink fire grass" earned a giggle from her - he had as unique an outlook on the world as she did. She supposed it did look a bit like fire, especially beneath the brushing fingers of the winds.
I think ye are right,she hummed as she watched him search for his collection of substances. She recognized some of it as actual poison when she had peeked into its contents, but she knew some of it was "safe" for consumption as well. It continued to shock her that his body had not yet succumbed to the effects of the Jimsonweed, but she was grateful he had not - she was not the healer her mother or Fox were.
Her eyes were rounded discs of wonder as he produced the mushrooms she had inquired after. Excitement fizzed throughout her as she peered down first at the offerings and then up to him. Aisling's mother had yet to walk her through safe usage of the state-altering mushrooms, but she had Calyx here - surely that was enough?
Yes, yes it was.
O'course - thank ya,she agreed readily before he could change his mind and take them away. She lowered her muzzle, gingerly plucking the caps into her mouth and chewing them, careful and deliberate. They tasted like dirt, earthy and tinged with an edge of rot from the vessel he carried them in. She made a mental note to find him a new pelt - one that simply didn't smell so acrid would be an improvement.
Tastes... different,Aisling offered as she swallowed the mushrooms.
A frisson of rebellious energy strummed through her, knowing that there were no take-backsies now that the hallucinogenic mushrooms were down the hatch. There was no one to stop her from acting on impulses here.
Perhaps it was dangerous, her free will.
D'ye want me t'show ye th' dance?she asked, eyes bright - visibly with their subtle glow and the gilding of her renewed enthusiasm. Her earlier thoughts were whisked away and long forgotten.
It's simple - we just need a tall tree.
Her eyes skirted him to observe their surroundings. Most of the trees were those made rugged by mountain terrain, but she spotted one with some vines constricting it and a few leafy ones dripping from its boughs, some of which dragged the ground - perfect.
Like that one,she motioned with her muzzle toward the half-bedraggled tree. Its invasive, parasitic vine friend was surely choking the life from it, but it would be the centerpiece of their glib revelry for the day.
RE: now i'm a believer - Calyx - 5/24/2026