Mama Just Killed a Man [Nevada]

[Dusty Forgotten]

The roots reach out before her, arching up from the eroded crest she climbs, probably the only thing left holding this hill together. Would have eroded into the desert under the breeze, without Nevada here to hold it together. The timeline hasn't cemented in her head, but Ashtaroth knows the demoted Judge birthed Thetis, and left the valley, certainly in that order. Maybe the same happened to her family; they were blown apart by the hilltop wind without the caretaker to hold them together.

Thetis is selfish; Nevada, anything but. Maybe Ashtar doesn't have to turn out like her mother.

"Red Baishun?" the pup calls, positioning herself until the tree blocks the afternoon sun, and she can almost see into the den. "Excuse me, miss. May I ask you something?"

When permitted, she ducks inside, dips her head to the woman wherever she is found, and seats herself with prestige, tail around her paws. She hates Gigantea too much to emulate the woman, but some of Anamelech has crept in: a falsified accent adopted from the goddess, an unshakable instinct towards vanity. The grace, however, she has picked up from her younger sister. Here, Ashtaroth was supposed to be the good influence.

She sits, quietly, inspecting the interior until a command or lasting look prompts her to speak. After all, Ana believes that children are to be seen, not heard. An ear swivels back briefly, a final chance to keep her mouth shut. She's afraid what the words will bring. She's afraid of what the thought will do inside of her. "Red Baishun, how did you know to follow Chinesis?"

[Nevada]

N E V A D A

Someone was out there, in the heat of the desert summer. Nevada heard the moving, the tumbling of earth as it shifted under a body. Light. Young. The scent came later, nearly stripped away by the wind - just barely there. It was a familiar scent, one that the Baishun had to think about to place. Familiar, and recent.. A scent she'd smelled on her son, clinging to by proximity but not intimacy... probably. She knew that they were at about the age where they would begin trying AA - Anytime, Anywhere - in earnest, so on any day he smelled a bit heavier of any of her daughter's 'adopted' children, she determined that it was simply play. He never returned with heavy wounds, so she knew that he was not being fought seriously by any of them.

So, when the little one's silhouette came to the entrance of the den, Nevada was not surprised, nor was she worried that it was some vengeful youth looking to destroy one of the few good things in her life currently.

    "Red Baishun? Excuse me, miss. May I ask you something?"

She lifted her head and looked at the girl, recalling her from the day she'd taught the children. "Of course," she said, shifting to a sitting position and moving further into the den, making adequate space for the youth to come in and sit to talk. "Come in, have a seat." she indicated to the space she'd opened up. "How may I help you?" The child's heritage was known to Nevada - she was born of Ezekiel and Hanna. The older wolf recalled a few instances where she'd interacted with the father, but not so many where she had interacted with the mother. Ezekiel... That was Manticore and Canaan's brother. The boy whose tongue had been ripped from his skull, who had been enslaved or captured or otherwise taken by the pirate pack. The reason she had gone on her first outing into the wilderness - wherein Thetis had been conceived. So many things were linked in this spider web of the Valley. Nevada hoped that this child, whose eyes stared back like mountains, would grow well and strong. Would not be spoiled by her daughter's touch.

She waited patiently for the girl to speak her mind.

    "Red Baishun, how did you know to follow Chinesis?"

Nevada considered the question carefully, mulling it over and thinking back to her past, to the moments in which she was not yet sure of mind, and then the moments where she was. It would be a lie to say that doubt was absent from her heart and mind, but she knew that of the three, the Red was the one to be. "When I was born, there was no Red Rose present. The Chinensis," her correction of pronunciation was subtle but present. She'd had the same difficulty early on, that damn 'n'. "had vanished to look for his daughter. In a vacuum, chaos prevails, especially when the thing that is missing is what's meant to hold the pack together and keep the sides from tearing each other apart." she looked past the child to the outside, wondering if anyone would be spying on her. Nothing that she said was heresy - but a Yellow or White follower might think so. "When I looked at the White and the Yellow, I did not see myself. In their followers, I saw reckless violence, stubborn aggression. No insult intended, but no intelligence, no peace. It was chaos and it made no sense. In the few followers of the Red that I could find, I saw a quiet strength - we were present, keeping the two other sects from destroying each other and themselves. Even without a figurehead, we were strong." She had been a Red long before Canaan had entered the picture.

Her thoughts turned to her brother, now dead or at least vanished. Her memory took her to her youth, when she saw him throw another child into the tar. A murder, and he wasn't even considered a god yet. She remembered Nhu's return, carrying that same fire they were bred to despise. She remembered Manticore's decision that Nhu was touched by the Red Dragon, if she was not the Dragon herself. She remembered how she saw the sense and believed it too, and how it had taken Achilles - the Yellow Seour - to not be so damned afraid of her. Still, a fire to show power was better than a murder for a murder's sake - she was glad that Grendel had gone. "There was a... false Red once." the pause of hesitation was to mask the words she'd meant, "A female by the name of Lazaret. She rose to power and was thrown from the cliffs that very night by the White Seour at the time - Gigantea was not even there. At this time, the White Rose was my brother, his birth name was Grendel." she felt no shame in telling this youth this. "There was a violence that I felt within those of the White and Yellow's orders that I felt no connection to. I don't mean to say that physical violence, be it Anytime-Anywhere or in defense of the valley, is wrong.. but the violence I felt growing was senseless. It was internal, and Chinensis and the Red order was the thing that kept that violence from escalating and eating Oukoku-kai from within." She stopped now, unsure of how to continue.

Had she said too much? She had always been free with her words when speaking of the Red, and somehow it had gotten away from her now. She looked at Ashtar after a moment of looking at the sky beyond her. "Did that help? Do you have any other questions?" She would welcome any and all.

dialogue
ooc ;;

[Dusty Forgotten]

"Chinensis..." the pup repeats quietly, testing the shape of the sounds. Even with it's oft-forgotten letter, the pronunciation is smoother than Gigantea or Foetida. Ashtaroth listens with mouth sewn shut, brown eyes alert, nodding whenever Nevada looks her way. She should seek out a priest, this absorbed in her pack's history, maybe accompany Feizin in her lessons, but... she fears they would hear the same words very differently.

There's a... hesitance, in the Baishun's words, a long stare out over the desert. The Valley is no place of peace, of this, they are certain. This alignment, that of the Red, binds the aggression of Yellow to the deception of White, forges them into the formidable empire none of the three could be alone. There is a balance between the colours, and any lack within them could be disastrous. Red is the order of the intelligent, the forward-thinkers; without this, Oukoku-Kai would be mindless.

Ashtar perks at the mention of Lazaret, a renewed focus from the philosophical to quite tangible. False Rosas? There is such a thing?

Nevada ends her speech quite abruptly, shortly after delving into the topic of her brother, a White Rose. She is god-born as well. But Enix, and Neriminda-- her grandparents-- they were both Rosas, were they not? Is everyone in the Valley so close to divinity?

"Did that help?"

"Yes, miss."

"Do you have any other questions?"

"Yes, miss."

Oh, so many. The speech, on the hillside, it has left her with far more questions than it answered: it introduced her to the possibility of more than she had come to know. Other alignments, the options besides Hanna's legacy. There is far more to this world than Anamelech had taught her-- far more than that which is beautiful and that which is not-- there is good and evil, but so many mixtures thereof. Nothing is simple: that is one lesson in which White did not lie.

"You mentioned a false Red?" Ashtar starts, curiously, in the same dance into the topic as the past Pathos had demonstrated. There are many secrets in Oukoku-Kai, and none of the answers are obvious. "How did you identify the false Rose?" With a short pause, lengthened to leave space for any response, but her mind is so full. "How do I know if I am Red?" Can I know? I want to know.

I want to be.

[Nevada]

N E V A D A

Nevada listened as the child repeated back the word, patiently waiting for her to finish. The girl remained interested as the Baishun spoke, something Nevada was thankful for – so often children would forget themselves while being talked to by an adult and might let their thoughts or eyes wander elsewhere. So often she was guilty of just that, though she tried her best to give full attention. She noticed Ashtar’s ears perk at the mention of Lazaret, but the child didn’t ask any questions until prompted.

    ”Yes miss. Yes, miss.”

So polite, Nevada couldn’t help but notice it and appreciate it.

    ”You mentioned a false red? How did you identify the false Rose? How do I know if I am Red?”

Two very heavy questions, that Nevada mulled over one after the other. ”I witnessed the rise and fall - the White Seour at the time worked on his own accord to call her false and throw her from the cliffs into the jaws of the Valley. Gigantea was not present at the time, though Foetida was and was passive in the encounter.” She remembered that while she had not heard a word passed among them, the Yellow Rose had made no display of power or decision, instead letting Crow take the lead with his insidious recklessness.

She’d never liked her grandfather.

”Many wolves had loved the past Chinensis and feared for his demise, so to hear that someone was claiming, essentially, that he was dead… many leaped at the chance to deny it in their grief.” She’d seen her own bond, Shakra, leap into the fray, claimed by the mob mentality.

Now, the second question. ”The only way to truly know whether you hold the spirit of a Rosa is for a Rose to tell you it. Nobody else, not a Seour, not a Captian, nobody else can decide that.” There was something dangerous tucked into her words but she did not pause. ”There are likely many wolves in the Valley who can be vessels, but it is up to the Rosas to decide when to claim a Seour. Sometimes Seours don’t become Rosas, like in the case of the previous White seour. Sometimes, the spirit of a Rosa will leave a vessel to find another – such as in the case with Enix, who was once a Rosa.” She felt a bitterness inside her, but pushed it away.

”If you mean, how do you know if you are a Red-follower, then that is wholly up to you. Red is of intelligence and wit – we are strategy and balance. Which Rose you follow has nothing to do with your blood or your parentage, and in fact has nothing to do with what bond might claim you if one does.”

dialogue
ooc ;; hi im using my phone as wifi. 2gb of data. rip.

[Dusty Forgotten]

Politics. That's all it is-- stupid politics, wolves fighting for the right to lead, others enjoying their small aid in the matter with murder dripping from their jaws. Followers of White, shaping the world from the shadows, and Yellow enjoying the carnage, uncaring of the cause. Ashtaroth feels distinctly that Nevada is leading her a very particular direction; shaping her for Chinensis. Does she always do this? Is she so desperate to have some hold in the Yama Council she will take another's child in place of her own?

Anamelech has moulded Ashtar since birth-- before, even-- and she quite dislikes the feeling. A narrowing of her eyes is the only indication she has yet to train away, hiding under Gigantea's all-seeing eyes. It's followed quickly enough by a furrow it may go unnoticed. She begins shaking her head frantically, perfect poise breaking to brace her paws wide for the quickly escalating intensity of the gesture. No, she was in the garden; she tore into Leocor for the Seour's amusement. She's seen where that sort of blasphemy leads a wolf. She has lead the way.

She knows better than to interrupt, only interjecting in Nevada's moment of quiet after the mention of Enix. "No miss, of course not, miss. Far be it from me to challenge divinity." She knows better than to do it aloud, at least.

Ashtaroth nods as the Baishun shifts the topic, pins her paws together, brings her ears back to alertness after the overwhelming fear. She calls it personal choice, and Ashtar finds herself a bit let down. Lot of good that does.

"Red is of intelligence and wit – we are strategy and balance. Which Rose you follow has nothing to do with your blood or your parentage, and in fact has nothing to do with what bond might claim you if one does."

An unnecessary disclaimer; Ashtar will find a Bond. She will make one if she must. She's certainly intelligent, strategic. She'd like to consider herself a more balanced individual than many in the Valley. Does that make her Red? Perhaps she should have asked how she will know; Nevada seems very preoccupied with phrasing. Careful.

She does say something of note: her lineage has nothing to do with it. That makes quite a bit of sense, in fact, as Nevada gave way to Thetis, who follows anything but Red. "You make it sound so simple..." A decision: should I follow Gigantea, Foetida, Chinensis? Often, those decisions are made for you. Thetis, for instance.

Politics.