Ursa: A Shaman's Ways (Chyril 25th, early TT)

[Niamh Windwalker]

Leaving the strangers to Catherine's attentions, Niamh made her way silently along the hard-packed dirt path that led to the Shaman's tent, her spirit unsettled. Though the young Kanthrop woman refused to let the strangers worry her, the unvoiced fears their presence caused seemed to settle a heavy weight upon her thoughts. Somewhat gloomily, for she still smarted from Xen's abrupt departure, she pondered the dirt at her feet, eyes outlining the paw-prints, the imprints of bare feet, even the occasional suggestion of the long, narrow toes of flying beasts.

The animal spirit again stirred restlessly within her breast, lending her steps an abrupt energy that might be mistaken as purposeful, when in reality it seemed as if the bird-like spirit was trying to clamber forcefully from within her skin, its sharp talons scrabbling along her insides, searching for a weakness that it could take advantage of.

It was one thing to have the Elders describe this in their teaching tales, or share vague recollections of their own experiences, which were far too personal to tarnish by sharing... but this...

Niamh continued to focus on the path at her feet, attempting to force the thoughts of flight, of the seductive whisper of air fondling her feathers, of that freedom... far, far from her mind. Not now, you don't..

Should someone from the campfire wish to follow her, it would be but a few flickers to catch up and follow in her sandaled footsteps.

[Brytan]

It was but a short walk to the shaman's tent, a large and colorful circle amidst a range of smaller yet equally well built tents. Kanthrop did not care much for rank, but their shaman was an important figure in the village, so his status among the tribe was reflected in his home as it was in his clothing.

Inner Animals weren't known for their peaceful resignation when unheard, but Niamh managed to control it well enough. Not like she was going to shift right then and there. The entrance to the hut was covered, smoke coming from the smoke hole in the top of the tent.

Gannas, or someone, was definately in there.

[Niamh Windwalker]

OOC: Inspiration seems to be evading me lately, for Niamh, sorry if I'm a bit slow.

IC: "Hawkeye?" Niamh paused just before the tent-flap, a flicker's courtesy giving the one within notice of her presence. Her sandaled feet rested in the hard-tramped earth before the tent, one hand resting on the entrance. Yet the Kanthrop hesitated, she knew that the Shaman disliked unannounced intrusions. At one point she had spent a whole training session in unarmed sparring with kit constantly poking, prodding and distracting her - after dashing into the Shaman's tent without heed for what was going on within.

"May I enter?" Amazingly enough, she waited for an answer, mind huddling around the thoughts and questions she had to speak. It was not just a need to evade Catherine or the Intruders... Niamh had felt a burning need to learn more about the Cryers, ever since their taunting whisperings during her first shift. There must be some way to strike back...

[Brytan]

"Ofcourse, ofcourse. Enter Niamh."

The voice of Gannas Hawkeye sounded alert and clear through the covered opening of the doorway. Upon entering Niamh found herself in the tell tale surroundings of a shaman's hut. Herbs drying on cords strung throughout the tent. Vials, cups, pouches and totems strewn everywhere, but not disorganised. The shaman himself was dressed in his ritual garb as usual, kneeled beside a stack of animal pelts, upon which the wounded Kiare lay. A fire was burning in the middle of the tent, a small stone pot brothing something inside. A mixture of different smells and aroma's attacked her senses.

Kiare seemed awake aswell, she smiled as Niamh entered. Her legs were wrapped almost entirely in bandages of linen, a smelly goo dripping from in between. Hawkeye was just tieing up the last one as Niamh approached them.

"I was wondering when you might come and see me." Hawkeye said. "Or rather...Kiare ofcourse. How are your own wounds today? Not bothering you too much I hope?"

[Niamh Windwalker]

The earthiness of Hawkeye's hut welcomed her with it's familiarity, the sharp mixture of smoke and life intertwining in a distinctive scent she always associated with his shamanistic ways.

Padding a few steps into the tent, she dropped into an easy crouch beside the fire, the sight of Kiare leaving her to struggle with an odd sense of awkwardness. Yet she smiles, so perhaps all will be well?

"Well, yes, I hadn't heard... and Kaila didn't know..." Niamh's mouth would not spit out the question pressing up behind her eyeballs, those bird-like orbs somewhat entranced by the sight of the extensive bandages and sloppy goo, and yet unable to ask just what they meant. If Kiare's not distressed, though... "You... you seem better, Kia..."

Unknotting her tongue at the Shaman's question, a touch of her impish nature returned as she stretched out her injured arm, flexing it carefully. An over-exuberant gesture left the muscles stinging, though she caught the movement before it actually damaged the stitches piercing her skin.

"Ehn, a bit of a scratch... will I be able to fly, tomorrow at first light, do you ken?" A half-formed idea was wending its way through her mind, one could almost see it's path crossing her piercing features as if she spoke it plainly. There must be some secret on that peak, they should pay for all they've done. There was something vengeful hovering in her eyes, and while Niamh was not cruel, it was rare any would be landing the 'final' prank on her... even in mock, she had been nearly religious in returning any favors dealt her.

Only two had ever had much of a chance at curbing her high spirits, the one was missing, the other the Shaman under who's roof she now crouched, balancing idly on her toes.

[Brytan]

"I feel fine." Kiare responded to Niamh's inquiry. "Hawkeye's taking good care of me, but he says I should take at least a week or so more rest."

"Indeed. And you should take care not to exert yourself too much so soon either. You were lucky, both of you. It could have ended far differently."

The shaman moved back and forth between Kiare and the fire, scooping some of the broth into a wooden cup and handing it to Kiare in the process. He then turned to Niamh again and eyed her up and down for a few flickers.

"At first light you say? Hmm. You're the best judge of your own injury at this point. But if I were you I'd refrain from doing anything...rash." A smile played along his lips. "Since we all know how that can turn out, some people even learn how to fly."

[Niamh Windwalker]

Not particularly abashed, Niamh flashed a grin at the shaman, one hand batting away a shock of hair from her rugged features, even as the knotted strands of muscles began to loosen as Kiare's admission sunk in. She will walk again!

Hawkeye's sober reminder didn't much dint the glimmer in her bird-like gaze. They had lived and none would be crippled, that was enough for her at this moment.

Cocking her head abruptly, she glanced between her peer and the Shaman.

"I'm no use for the hunt, today - and Xen ran off again," a flicker of disgruntlement crossed her gaze. "But Hawkeye... I... heard something... and... thought you might know what it meant? It.. it happened as I shifted, the Cryers whispering in my thoughts..."

[Brytan]

"Yes. I think we all heard it by now. The Cryers can get into our minds it seems. They speak to me in the gravetide aswell. Like spirits in the woodland their words drift in on the wind, speaking of nothing but death. Malevolent beings they are, yet they seem to respect certain bounds for reasons I do not yet understand."

The shaman walked around the tent, moving some bits and bobs around, rummaging through a number of pots and jars until he found a small red one he gave to Niamh. A honey like smell emanated from the pot.

"Take this and rub it on your wounds, it should numb the pain some and help the healing. Before you sleep rub some on your chest aswell so you can inhale the scent. It shall help you dream more peacefully."

OOC: Due to character retirement, locking and archiving this thread. Hope to see you back some day Niamh!

[Morg]

Archived without skilling due to character retirement.

EDIT: Skilled for the returning Niamh.