The Annual Pumpkin Festival (closed)

[Alice]

Timestamp: 40th to 50th Day of Autumn, 509 AV People around the whole Konti Isle had prepared to celebrate the end of autumn as well as the food and utilities the gods had graced their land with. The month they were looking back at had been full of harvesting, cropping wheat, cutting herbs, grabbing fruit from the trees or digging out vegetables from the isle’s fertile ground. Naturally fishing and collecting algae, shells and corals had been a part of the process too. Then, while storing the most valuable goods for winter and beginning to use reasonable amounts right away, the Konti turned their attention to the city itself, and the Ukalas above it’s realm – for it was clear that the gods had granted them a successful harvest again, a harvest they needed every year to survive during the raw climate and low temperatures of a winter that wasn’t as hard as in other parts of the world, but still not to be underestimated. And the gods they were praising while decorating their most beautiful city. Laviku was watching them tying colorful ribbons at the bow of their elegant swan boats, creating and wearing clothing that was stitched with elaborate blue and turquoise patterns and proudly showed their shimmering scales. Avalis was gracing them with Her presence while young and old concentrated their extraordinary senses and worked together to match color, shape and artform to make Mura even more beautiful than it already was. Soon sheets were hanging at the walls, gracing the city’s surface with paintings about how the seasons were created and how the gods gave natural goods to their races to live off. Books were published, and countless poems written. Everyone praised their goddess by helping each other using their extraordinary sixth sense, and thus the whole Konti population was coming closer. Rhysol’s gifts, however, were praised in a more subdued way. Members of the Opal Order and Temple were working hard to analyze and categorize the harvested herbs. Instead of celebrations, their heads were full of medicines for incurable illnesses, mixtures of herbs that should ease the life of every citizen. They didn’t decorate – instead they were honoring their goddess by working more diligently and dedicatedly. Last but not least, pumpkins appeared all over the city. Carved, etched, stitched, written, painted … Avalis knew that there were countless ways of depicting a single object in many ways and at many places throughout the whole city. Every year the pumpkin was serving as a symbol for the success of the harvest, but also as a warning sign for negative ideas and thoughts to stay away from the celebrations. Everyone agreed that bad luck wasn’t needed during the ten days of celebration. Thus the pumpkin faces were depicted with scary grimaces as to frighten potential sources of chaos away. Of course, there were numerous events throughout the whole city. Shops had decorated and craftsmen had spent extra hours in their workrooms, creating special goods to inspect and purchase. The harbor provided special sightseeing tours for visitors. And if someone wandered out of the city’s protecting walls, perhaps they would find a god wandering the earth of Mizahar or their spirits and incarnations floating through air or over water. These ten days were special, magical even, that was sure – but every person was left to decide on their own how they would spend them. ooc noteJust a little adventure thread to get to know the residents and provide some opportunities for interaction. I will do branch threads, so everyone who posts here gets enough attention. Have fun!

[Trista]

47 Autumn

Trista and parties had an odd relationship. The Akvatari girl wasn't averse to them, but she also was rarely a full participant. She watched from the sides of the action, listening carefully and keeping her eyes open, but doing nothing to bring attention to herself. Perhaps this was because of her upbringing -- in Abura, there were recitals, and gallery openings, and public recitations, but precious few purely social occasions.

Harvest was something of a difficult concept for Trista as well. Akvatari could survive indefinitely on nothing but kelp and fish, and since those were both plentiful and always in season, they had no large-scale agriculture at all. Indeed, the closest thing Trista had seen to a farm growing up was a school acquaintance who grew flowers in a pot by his window.

But not so for the people of Mura, and Trista could understand their joy at the harvest, even if it wasn't a feeling that was natural to her. And, since she was rather at loose ends, she thought that the festival might not be a bad place to visit, especially given what she'd heard of the display of paintings there.

Of course, Trista thought as she approached a crowded street, there was another difference between her and the general citizenry. These people were Konti, and as such, they had a bond between them, something that could not be touched or seen, but that could be palpably felt. It was a sense of community -- a community to which Trista was an outsider. She was welcome here, but she did not truly belong, not in the sense that the Konti did. The same as in her faith: she could worship Avalis, but she had no gifts, no sight, and no hereditary claim on the goddess.

They were cheerless thoughts, but Trista wasn't known for her buoyant, upbeat nature. The girl put half a smile on her face, and then flipped her wings, setting off in the direction of the paintings.

[Eryn]

It was hard to say why exactly that Eryn had chosen to go to Mura, she wasn’t exactly interested in the culture or the beauty of the island. Perhaps it was because of the festivites taking place that had drawn the child ghost. Dead or not, she still enjoyed something fun to do, though whether she’d be welcome would depend on the living’s attitude of death and the life after. Misery wasn’t often welcome in a place of celebration but it wouldn’t be the first time Eryn had arrived somewhere where she wasn’t welcome. The little girl ghost walked through the streets of Mura with a sad smile on her face, her unseen presence causing those she walked by and walked through to feel a chill in the air, though since it was fall, it wasn’t taken as too odd. She liked being unseen but gods how it ached to watch the fun that was happening and know that in all reality, she couldn’t join in the festivities. Ages ago she could have run around with the other child, could have helped put up decorations and eaten the delicious food that was being prepared. But that was then, when her hands didn’t pass through an object and her form remained unseen.

She could manifest herself if she wanted to, if she concentrated she could move things and she could make herself appear as though she was real but that caused her to tire and she wanted to wait for a reason to do all those fun little tricks she had learned in her after-life. Perhaps Eryn could think of a reason she had come to Mura, this was the home of the Konti, seers that could scry and find truth masked in lies. Surely one of them could help the girl find out the truth behind her death, wasn’t that kept her walking this lonely miserable road she had chosen. All she needed to do was find out why, who, and where she could find them, punishment was surely due to the evil soul that would kill a young child that had surely done no wrong.

No matter the events that took place, Eryn couldn’t just let them go for a while and enjoy what was happening around her, death filled her thoughts, her own death and that of the one that she would take vengeance on when she found them. Her stringy black hair brushed over her pale face as she continued to hover over the ground, she liked going through the mortals and seeing them shiver in the sudden cold. Her little black dress clung to her small frame, blood seeping from the stab wound in her back, though thankfully it mixed well with the color of her dress so it wasn’t too noticably when she did choose to blend in with the living.

Where was she to go first? She had her choice of where she wished to go first, the temples were out of course since that meant the possibility of meeting up with a medium and she enjoyed avoiding them really, she didn’t want their version of ‘help’ ever.

She would just walk the streets for the moment, taking in the sights and pondering the various pranks she could play on those around. Perhaps she would find an altar to the god she ‘served’ though it was doubtful, Ionu wasn’t exactly a Konti God as far as she knew. Oh well, one could hope and perhaps if Eryn was lucky, she could find other ghosts that walked the streets of Mura. She did so thirst for a conversation that didn’t involve someone running in fear or summoning someone to deal with her. She was a prankster but she was not a mean or dangerous ghost unless someone angered her, which didn’t happen often.

[Kamalia Timandre]

No lyrics from the bards of Syliras, no story from wide-eyed sailors, not even the nigh incredulous tales of hearty tavern frequenters ever gave justice to the siren beauty and mystique of the konti women and their shining centerpiece, Mura.

Today was another day of bliss and celebration. The usually solemn metropolis of the Konti Isle bustled with activity. Siren songstresses sang to the harmony of harps, flutes and zither and the graceful dancers, all slender and long-limbed, whirled and leaped to the rhythm of small Muran percussions. The lyricists composed poems and songs honoring their holy mother while the thespians and actresses portrayed scenes of the changing of the seasons: the never ending divine comedy of Tivaku, Sivah, Bala and Morwen.

Achingly beautiful, adored by the divine, and unaffected by the aging touch of Tanroa, the daughters of Laviku and Avalis sang thanks and praises to Bala, Goddess of Autumn and Harvest.

Incense coils and decorated pumpkins hung from the lattices of elaborate pergolas and the gazebos of the grander houses. A rather large intricately carved opal basin set in a golden holder stood in one of the patios of an inner circle clan compound. There, whirling and twirling around the opal bowl, danced a score of young konti maidens. Each had long, silvery hair that seemed to capture the tawny glow of the late afternoon sun.

Today, the song and the chant were largely a formality, for it was custom of the konti to presage any significant event that would occur by the end of fall and in the duration of winter. Grandmother Shahal, matriarch of the Timandre family, stepped forward, robed in the white ceremonial vestments of a high priestess of Avalis. She lifted a seer’s lily high as the chant rose to a single keening note. Her voice, dominant enough to match the power of the assembled singers, chanted a low-pitched prayer in an eerie counterpoint to the song. The triplet gnosis marks of the All-Seeing Mother gleamed with eldritch light on Shahal’s forehead and suddenly, the silver waters in the basin swirled and rose up.

The Divination has begun.

Kamalia Timandre watched closely as the Vision Water—with the consistency of gel—rose and danced to the melodious prayer of her grandmother. At the same time, the young seer felt, rather than saw, the presence of a lost soul who wandered about the streets of Mura at this time. She felt no surprise there. Once in a while, something called her forth and it was often wise to answer it.

But for the time being, Kamalia was content to watch the divining waters dance, as Mother Avalis opened a window to the cosmos of the future for her daughters.

[Sondra]

"K'Sondra," Veya called in a pitch too high to be genuine, "Where are you?"
The Konti was weaving through crowds and peering into narrow passages. She tip-toed around corners and tried to stretch above the heads of the throng.
"K'Sondra, you're supposed to stay with me!" She implored to a general silvery mass of slender Konti.

Just as visitors were looking near their knees for some errant child, Veya's face lit up and she clasped her hands together.
"There you are!"

K'Sondra frowned at the relieved Veya, who was smiling expectantly at her.
"Oh, K'Sondra, I thought I had lost you."
"One could only hope."
"What's that in your hand, K'Sondra?" Veya made a face and glanced down at the flask, K'Sondra held daintily between her gloved fingers.
"Milk and honey, dear Veya. I'd offer you some, but it would make you unbearably sweet."
"Your Grandmother asked me to watch you, and I know she firmly suggested you to not partake of any strong drink."

Sondra was never fond of Veya. She had a girlish voice and tended to touch you in a comforting manner, as if the world was made of five years olds she had to mollify. Grandmother, however, trusted Veya and sent her about on lapdog errands, including dragging Sondra back to Mura for the harvest celebration. The pretty little waif had lied about Sondra's sister courting Dira to compel Sondra home. Either Veya was cleverer than Sondra thought, or Grandmother had fed her the ruse.

"Grandmother can pound sand," Sondra lightly announced. She sipped her flask to finish the thought.
Veya's voice dropped an octave, turning soothing. "Why must you lash out to veil your true feelings?"
Sondra pressed her lips together and wondered if she could shake that glow out of Veya. The little minx was focusing on reading her.
"Perhaps because I don't want to share them, Veya."
"You are so angry towards your matriarch." The smug look of knowledge was growing on her face. "Your grandmother missed you, K'Sondra, she asked us to bring you home should we see you."

Grandmother had plenty of progeny to keep her occupied. Progeny that was more talented and empathetic than Sondra. Why Grandmother wanted her back seemed more stubborn possessiveness than affection.
"I took the position she encouraged me to take. It ended. Her influence on my life ceased as well."
Sondra often wondered if revered Grandmother foresaw the end of her service, yet sent her regardless.
"K'Sondra, you are being unkind."
"You noticed." Sondra began to turn away, "You may also notice that I want to be left alone."
"Don't leave!"

Veya then did what irritated Sondra most, she reached out and grabbed her hand. Sondra didn't want to see whatever ugliness the lapdog harbored. She shut her eyes and tried to bar the memory sprinting its way into her thoughts. Despite the gloves, fragments leaked through, flashing a nonsensical collage of images, and Veya's guilt bubbled in Sondra's gut. She twisted free, still nauseous with borrowed shame.

"Try that again, Veya," Sondra was inches away her voice low, "And I'll beat you in the middle of the street."
"Try what?" Veya half whispered, though her eyes were wide.
"I know Grandmother taught you a few tricks in dealing with me. Look innocent all you like, I'm the one Konti that's not going to work with."
Sondra's teeth were on edge as she continued.
"You're going to walk away and leave me in peace, Veya."

[Alice]

Trista

Please continue here ...

[Alice]

Eryn

Please post here ...

Kamalia

Your prophecy awaits you here ...

[Gromhir]

Gromhir had never been a fan of crowds. Though he remembered reading that many Kelvics were not. Reading was one of those skills he’d picked up from Kamalia, a good skill he had found. Kamalia had many books and he had taken to reading some while staying out of the way at the Timandre House. The books told of many things, things he could not possibly experience on his own in the world. It was strange to think that so much knowledge could be held in this writing on a page. Is this how these humanoids remembered everything? Would their heads explode if they knew too much? Gromhir couldn’t say but he enjoyed reading none the less.

His bond mate had told him to venture out and explore during the festival. Meeting other people would broaden his horizons apparently. He did not want to leave her side but he felt she was trying to do what was best for him. Without her guiding hand, Gromhir felt lost and confused in the crowds. He stuck to the walls of the white city, now colourful with ribbons and orange fruit like things, carved with grimacing features. The crowds held just as many fearsome faces for Gromhir. Not all were Konti, he knew that much. The air was alive with the smells of far off lands. Lands from back across the water.

Gromhir was lost in sea of strange faces and smells. He once more felt trapped and alone. It occurred to him that even with this many people around him, that was odd to feel alone. When he had been with Kamalia, everything was right and as it should be. The Kelvic decided he’d had just about enough of the crowds and darted inside a shop just to get away. He leant against the nearest wall and closed his eyes, calming his mind as he had taught himself.

[Alice]

Sondra & Gromhir

You will most likely meet here ...