Logs:The Funeral of Huginn

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The Funeral of Huginn
Dramatis Personae

Ashley, Brant, Chris, Deborah, Desmond, Levi, Jill, Nadya, Seraphine, with Jackson as ST and Lorna playing the Pure

11 July, 2016


Jackson performs the Funeral Rite for the Pure known as Huginn. Blackheart explains that his pack and family will be leaving Fallcoast to mourn properly. The Anshega and Urdaga tribes are gathered together for one last time.

Location

FC07, Blackridge Forest


The night of the funeral for Huginn comes. A pyre has been prepared, with a series of logs set up on one another, likely tugged over in Dalu form to create a pyramid about six feet high upon which Huginn's body will lie. The Ritemaster has taken the proper time to look at Huginn's body through the Two World Eyes of the Ithaeur and noted a similarity between them, at least in what Renown they feel is most important. Different as Renown is between the Forsaken and Pure, perhaps he and Huginn weren't entirely different in scope or how he viewed the world. This creates an aura of somber reflection on the part of the ritualist, which is not entirely out of sorts since he learned the strongest of the People's magics.

Some chairs have been placed around the pyre for those who would like to sit. Considering that Blackheart's wife is likely to pop soon with her child, or maybe even had her child already, it'd be better for her to have appropriate seating. Same with some of the other Wolfblooded who want to attend. Once the Pure are there, Jackson shakes hands and ensures Blackheart on his own honor that there will be no violence against them in their time of mourning -- something which he hopes will be true, considering it would mean fighting his own kind to keep that honor. Nonetheless, he has dressed himself in funerary robes and stands in his Dalu form to receive those who want to mourn alongside the Anshega.

Despite Huginn being Pure, he did fight with the Forsaken against the Bale Hounds that were threatening to cause incredible damage to the surrounding area. This location saw some of the worst of the fighting. The body of one of the Bale Hounds was hung in a tree not far from here, and its bones have been stripped of flesh, standing as a grisly reminder of what happens when one fights against the combined forces of the Uratha in Fallcoast. Nadya is also here, considering she's Jackson's mate, though he's mostly left her to spend time with the others around while he waits for the attendees to show up.

Cahaliths DO, and speak of what WAS... so Deborah is a novice at rituals. Even before the pyre was complete, and well before others arrived, she was there, to help reach thr mindset needed for the funeral. Because while it is a rite and calls for an Ithaeur, it is also honoring one's deeds... telling their story. Singing their song.

It takes her an embarassingly long time to settle into the proper mindset. Chalk it up to how it is for an Anshega? Until Jackson begins calling to the spirits, she is sitting on a log over thataway. Near the pyre, but not so close that her attention can be broken by idle chatter.

Dressed in black, Seraphine arrives alone. It's pants, a flowing tank top and hiking boots, considering the journey that she had to take out here. Bone-beads are worked into her hair, and there is a new scar at the hollow of her throat. Perhaps this explains her silence. Solemn, serious, the expression on the Priestess' face. Watchful, those dark, gold-flecked eyes.

Blackheart and Muninn arrive early and they are both in a somber state for the most part. Both are dressed in all black and the Ivory Claws are wearing a white handkerchief in the pocket that has a black raven on it. There are no other Pure in attendance for this event. Not even Blackheart’s wife is here.

Ashley arrives to the designated meeting area by herself. In solo, she is dressed for the somber occasion wearing a little black dress for the summer weather and an expensive pair of black heels. Her white blonde hair is pinned up in a loose french twist and is here to not misbehave this evening. A few nods given to her friends here, and those she knows as well as a light welcoming smile. And then she beelines the chair area to find a seat. The Pure, she does not know. However, there might be a few who remember her on the first battlefield when they fought against one another.

If anyone is looking into the Hisil, the Murder's totem has settled on a nearby tree to watch the funeral, likely due to the presence of half their membership here. Amdulim'Hala seems particularly flush with Essence this evening, and the swirls and whorls of patchwork scarring in its feathers, glyphs signifying death, are gleaming blood red. Considering that the Totem's influences are primarily in death, this would make sense.

Jackson gives a respectful bow of his head to Blackheart and Muninn as they arrive; he doesn't question the lack of Blackheart's wife. Perhaps keeping up the avian theme, the Ithaeur has the image of a crow sewn into his robes at the shoulders, like pauldrons. With the arrival of each person, he gives a slow nod to each, then turns back to look toward Deborah as she prepares her mind. He also checks on Nadya with her staying out of the way. As each person arrives, he reaches into a pocket stitched inside of his robe for a small bag of tobacco leaf and seed, which he sprinkles over the ground as each person arrives.

Levi arrives on silent feet, his dress is muted and somber. Deep brown trousers and a black button-up with a splash of crimson in the form of a raven embroidered onto the back of his right shoulder. The Gypsy's usual rings and bangles present as he stalks through those gathered. Weaving around a few chairs he makes his way to Jackson first, placing hands on his shoulders before his brow meets the other mans. It's a quiet chuff of air that leaves him, a solitary sound of solidarity. Leaving his Beta he brushes by Nadya, making contact with her with a gentle brush of his shoulder on his way to Blackheart and Muninn. From Blooded to a Wolf during the war, Levi remains respectful as he greets each Pure in turn with a silent clasp of hands and shoulder. Greetings being done, the Irraka fades to the edges of the space, keeping vibrant green eyes alert as he watches over the gathering, much like the pack's totem.

That shoulder brush from Levi earns a faint smile from Nadya, but she doesn't move from her place. She stays along the edge, hands folded in front of herself, her attention mostly on Jackson, watching as he prepares stuff. She's always respectful of any rituals being done, but is moreso tonight.

Ashley sits upright in her chair but once the scent of tobacco is evident she relaxes her shoulders somewhat. Her posture still not slack, she crosses her legs as she leans forward to look for Nadya at the edge, and then to where Seraphine is. Levi gets a somber wave of a hand in greeting as well and then seriously takes her time to check out the clothing that some of the Murder is wearing. The crimson red certainly is looking sharp and catches her attention. It doesn't last long however, as she draws her gaze next over to Blackheart and Muninn. Her light grey eyes nodding to them with acknowledgement.

Following Levi's entrance - and Death Crow using its Material Vision to look past the skin of Pangaea into the material realm to note the appearance of the Murder's alpha - Jackson finishes sprinkling his tobacco on the ground and makes his way toward the funeral pyre. He picks up a piece of flint and another rock and strikes it hard enough to send a scatter of sparks over four torches set in a circle of stones. He picks up two of them and hands one each to Muninn and Blackheart, hands the third to Deborah, and takes one up himself, with the intention that these should be used to ignite the pyre.

"Thank you all for coming. Tonight we're gathered here to pay homage to the Uratha known as Huginn, warrior of the Anshega." He pauses, holding that torch in his hand and looking over the assembled. "This story is true. Long ago, our forebears fought over the whole of Pangaea, fighting spirits and the worst of spirits, the Maeljin, to prevent them from harming humanity. Our goal was true, that spirits should not harm the Herd. We have done this again, fighting the scions of the Maeljin, the Bale Hounds that have been corrupted by the influence of our mutual enemies. The Uratha of Fallcoast came together, shucking aside ancient embittered rivalry and working alongside one another to put this to rest. Though there is much work ahead of us, closing Wounds and ensuring that the influence of the Maeljin cannot return to this land that all of us," there's a gesture to all of the assembled, "love so dearly, a place where our children will be born and raised to be Uratha or Uragarum. We all have a vested interest in ensuring that our children do not have to fight the same corrupted, vile creatures that ended Huginn's life. He died as any Uratha should hope: as a warrior."

"We were made to fight, and we were made to push back the darkness so that the Herd could live without fear of what lies beyond, within the Hisil. Despite being a shaman of the People, I am still a warrior, and have the warrior's heart, filled with the Rage that drives us to strike down our enemies. As Huginn and I shared a particular interest in the Wisdom of our kind and the precepts of Honor, I salute him - from one warrior to another." He gives a slow nod. "And now his pack should speak of him and share with us."

Levi gives Ashley that return acknowledgment, waggling fingers towards the blonde before he's settled on the edge of the ritual. Slowly he takes in the faces and dress of those gathered, taking stock and count of each in turn. When eyes rest on Seraphine, they linger for a moment, taking in the smallest details before the ghost of a smile appears. It's quick and like an Iminir he's faster to push it away to pokerface. Hands clasp together in front of him as his attention moves to Jackson. The speech is simply nodded towards. These things are true.

Ashley turns away from looking behind and to the sides of her and politely returns her attention up front. The accounting of warriors recognizing one another is nodded to but she also stays quiet as a mouse within her seat at this time. Her hands neatly fold on her lap as she waits for the rest of the pack or friends to speak.

Seraphine echoes, briefly, that ghost of a smile to Levi. And then, the silent blooded returns to watching, listening, observing. It is what Seraphines do, now.

Blackheart and Muninn give acknowledgements to everyone that enters. They are being rather quiet tonight and both stand at attention when Jackson speaks. There’s a slight smile from Muninn at the words, but he grows sober after that. When Jackson asks for them to say something, Blackheart steps forward.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out, even if we aren’t on the same sides, we are Uratha and we proved that when we needed to put things aside and work together that we could. It means a lot to us and others.” he states. “Huginn wanted desperately for there to be a peace and we got a little of that before he died, so I’m glad of that.” he smiles. “After the funeral rite, my pack will be leaving Fallcoast entirely. We’ve lost many and I’d like to give them a chance to heal emotionally and physically in another place.” he tells them all. “Thank you again for all that you have done.” he adds with a bow to all.

Nadya moves along the edges of the group until she arrives over to where Levi is standing. Her Alpha is given a faint smile before she lets her attention wander back to the others, head tipping a bit at Blackheart's words. The smellest of frowns mars her features, although she doesn't say anything in response.

"Thank you, Blackheart. I hope that wherever your pack goes, you'll be welcomed and safe." If this comes as a surprise or if he's affected by this in any emotional way, he has a pretty good mastery of his expression. "I'm glad that Huginn got a little bit of peace there at the end as well. I think our sides have warred for far too long, myself," Jackson responds after the Pure Alpha speaks. "If you don't mind, one of our Cahalith wish to speak of his accomplishments." He takes a deep breath and looks toward Deborah, moving to the side of the funeral pyre and slipping the torch into a free spot.

Ashley slides a little further to the edge of her chair in the seating area now. Deborah is about to speak, in her own way, and this she doesn't want to miss. She turns to look her way and offers a faint smile of encouragement.

When the mirror comes and goes, the Gypsy seems oddly relieved. In silence Levi simply shifts so that his arm is touching Nadya's shoulder. That gypsy solidarity thing running deep. As Blackheart speaks, the Irraka's gaze fixates on the Pure wolf for a long while, listening and then smiling just a hint. The fire has started and it seems to reflect in his eyes as his gaze zeroes in on Deborah now, watching patiently as the Cahalith is called to speak.

Deborah waits quietly while Jackson settles the spirits and begins the rite, taking her torch and holding it high. But soon enough, he falls silent for the Pure to speak. And then, they look to her. She closes her eyes to settle her thoughts. "This story is true," she intones, opening her eyes at 'true,' because Symbolism, yo.

"I did not know Huginn well. Anshega and Urdaga rarely get such a chance. But I did meet him just after my return to Fallcoast, at the Blood Communion rite. He was a Tzuumfin... a follower of Hathis-Ur... Silver Wolf. What I have learned of him since then only strengthens my thoughts on him." She pauses. A moment. "The war that sometimes rages between Uratha is often deadly, yet it has been over a decade since another of the people has died at Huginn's hand - a feat that few here could claim themselves, I think." Deborah certainly can't, from that whole Bale Hound thing. The glory brand on her shoulder says as much.

"Bountiful River... a lesser Incarna," translation: rank 6, "threatened to flood Hanging Hills. As in damn near kill everyone there. It was Huginn who discovered it's ban. It was Huginn who performed the rite to make it go dormant." She pauses once more, looking to those gathered. "He was loyal to his pack and to his community. At the Equinox rite, he was the voice foe Bernadette, and after... though the spirit hunt was called, he stayed behind to protect his Alpha's mate."

The fire crackles in the silence of her final pause. "In honor of Hathis-Ur, I will not call him my brother. But I would like to think that, were more Uratha like him, the Anshega and Urdaga would be at each other's throats less, and would remember that we are all one People."

Her words spoken, she looks to the rite leader for confirmation, before putting her torch to the pyre here, there, everywhere. As the flames begin to spread, she adds the torch itself to the pyre before shifting to Urhan. As the flames rise enough to touch the body, she begins the mournful howl, and continues until all have joined her.

It's a fairly beautiful speech, and Jackson tilts his head to the side in his Dalu form, as he listens to the story of Huginn's accomplishements. Though he looked into the Hisil to check the Ivory Claw's brands, he still didn't know quite all of that. He goes about spreading tobacco around the flames and then throws the rest of it into the pyre to purify Huginn's spirit as it's taken beyond this mortal coil to wherever it is that the People go when they die. He chants softly in the First Tongue and circles the flames. When he comes back to front, he shucks his robe off to show the massive scarring along his stomach and tattoos of the various faces of Luna in a half-sleeve on his left arm over his shoulder, along with the tattoo of crow's wings on his right forearm. Shifting up and then down slowly into his Urhan form, the black-furred wolf with yellow eyes lifts his head and joins in the mournful howl, piercing the night with it alongside the stronger voice of the Cahalith.

As the pyre begins to burn and the howls join from multiple throats, a distant howl can be heard, coming from further away. Brant echoes the howl as the second bugle would taps at a military funeral. The elodoth mirrors the original howl, fading shortly after it takes breath, picking up moments after it resumes. It is an eerie counterpoint to the harmonic melody of the People.

Seraphine does not break her silence to howl, but then again, she isn't a wolf. She does incline her head briefly, however. Her eyes never look down throughout it.

Ashley looks onward at the burning pyre as the flames dance and the last of the tobacco is sprinkled. The joined howling sends a haunting chill through the air for her as well as it is inspiring that so many have joined here together to emit the sound. Her left hand curls her fingers around her right, tight enough that her knuckles are white for a few seconds before she releases it. In silence, and in pride for her own People gathered here this eve, she offers her support.

Levi listens Deborah as she recounts the tales of the Pure warrior. Some of them are impressive. When Deb throws her head back to howl, the alpha of The Murder drops to all fours and releases a long and mournful cry of his own. The sound is haunting and deep as it joins the harmony of howls.

No sense in disrupting things; Jill had parked some distance out and hiked up to the base of the mountain. In human form, Jill doesn't join the howl that echoes out over the tree tops, carried by the winds miles outward. Given the hour, she's still dressed in uniform when she makes her solemn appearance with a strictly serious expression. The navy blue is somber enough for the mood, but the late-to-arrive Blood Talon takes up a position a distance away from the burning fire that laps at the pyre hungrily. She seems wary, but unafraid of any possible complications of the proceedings. Pulling the hat from her head, Jill brushes back a few stray locks of dark hair and tucks it under her arm while her eyes search out the heart of the blaze.

It's at the howls that Desmond makes his arrival to the area. Ever punctual, today is in stark contrast to his normal. Even his attire is different - a funeral pyre usually calls for little more than jeans, a tee-shirt, and bare feet from the Iminir. Today though, Desmond has on a full black set of dressier clothing, slacks and a button up. He doesn't quite top it off with a tie, but that's more formal than most usually catch Desmond. While the howls continue, he settles in a seat beside Ashley, without greeting or further interruption.

Following the howl, which he needs to start and stop occasionally to catch his breath before howling again, Jackson shifts back into his Hishu form. He says something quietly to Blackheart and Muninn, then turns to look at the body burning on the pyre. He turns back to the group and moves to take up the robes that he was wearing, pulling them back onto his body. He raises his hands, "Thank you all for coming. I will remain here to tend the flames and keep vigil over Huginn as his spirit leaves our world for the next, and tend to the ancestor-spirits that have undoubtedly come to pay their respects. Feel free to stay, if you wish." He pauses. "I have some liquor in the back of the car," he notes, as an incentive. Plus, booze at funeral receptions is customary.

Ashley catches sight of Desmond coming into the area and at once starts to rise from her chair as a sign of respect. Her light grey gaze nods to him with a faint smile, not as warm as usual since this -is- a funeral. This evening she also wears a little black dress and matching black heels. Her white blonde hair spun up into loose french twist. In the firelight, the only jewelry she wears is a pair of diamond earrings. They do catch that prism of golden glint from the flames but it's only seen with the movement she has as she sits down once Desmond takes a seat next to her. She leans over and whispers, "I'm glad you are here, Des." Then her head lifts to Jackson's announcement, and she nods.

Nadya has stood silently next to Levi this whole time, fingers clasped in fornt of herself. As stories are told and howls are made, she glances up toward the sky, then back to the fire as it continues to burn. She knows that Jackson will remain, even before he's said the words. Which means she'll stay in the area, as well, in case she's needed for something.

Levi's howl eventually dies down and when it does, the Gypsy shifts once more back into Hishu form. No he still hasn't gotten anything more dedicated than his boxers. But at least you got that, alright? Clothing is slipped back on and eventually the Irraka is adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. The business concluded he doesn't seem quick to leave, instead he gives each of those that came a nod and a murmured, "Thank you." before finally reaching Blackheart and Muninn to mutter to them quietly for a moment. When that's done, the Gypsy finally reaches into his pockets to pull out one of those expensive exotic cigarettes and his brass lighter. Taking a slow drag he moves to watch over the pyre for a moment while Jackson makes his rounds.

Telepathy from Nadya to ( Jackson ): Nadya says "You did good with this tonight, love. I'm sure Blackheart appreciated it."

Jackson leans in to whisper to Blackheart and Muninn, "My pack will help you move your stuff if you need help with the U-Haul, and we'll run along back as your rear-guard to make sure there isn't anyone who wants to attempt to be terrible cowards, attacking you in mourning."

When Levi comes to speak to the Pure, the Ithaeur gives him a shoulder nudge and steps away. Jackson looks over to Nadya and smiles, mouthing the words, 'thank you,' silently to her. He makes his way over to a bag he's left nearby and takes out a handful of summer berries. He goes to each participant in turn and gives them one, like a communion, after a fashion, and murmurs, "Grace of the Goddess upon you," to each of the Forsaken wolfblooded and werewolves in attendance. After making his rounds, he heads over toward the car he's parked nearby, then goes to grab a cooler out of the backseat. Lugging it back over to the pyre, he sits down in a chair near the flames and opens up the cooler. There are a couple bottles of whiskey in there, and a bottle of rum, along with two six packs of tallboys. He reaches into the icy depths and takes out the rum bottle, pouring out a little bit on the ground to appease certain death spirits, then pulls out a tallboy for himself before nudging the cooler off to the center for everyone to grab from with his foot.

Telepathy from Jackson to ( Nadya ): There's a warm, loving feeling that comes from Jackson, which goes along with his whispered thanks. It seems he really hasn't mastered the art of talking back this way, but can certainly send her his emotions.

The howl, once ended, makes Seraphine shiver. The vodoun holds that continued silence, the toying with bone beads in her hair, rubbing them as if they were rosary beads. Sometimes, too, she touches the fresh scar at the hollow of her throat. Desmond, late as he is, is greeted only by the faintest of nods. Thoughtful. She takes the berries when offered, and the withdraws a flask. Sipping, then spitting out rum, for her Loa in offerings.

Once the howl faded and the echo is no more, Brant began a solitary trek toward the pyre. It's several minutes before the silver furred wolf appears at the edge of the light, where he shifts mid stride up into his hishu form. He waits patiently for a chance to approach and offer the Anshega his condolences.


The line forms, and Desmond moves to take his place in it. He touches a hand to Ashley's knee, either in appreciation for her being here or in some small comfort given to the wolfblooded for attending a funeral for the Anshega. Either way, it's quick and done, before he stands up and falls in place after Brant.

There's no confusion over Deborah's appearance as the wolf nears Jill, but the uniformed officer seems somewhat cautionary as the wolf nudges her leg. Still largely at attention, Jill does little to relax, but gestures to Deborah with a casual wave of her hand. "More than a little strange to be here," Jill murmurs to the familial wolf and drops her eyes towards Deborah's. "But the Blood Talons know the Pure to be warriors worthy of respect, so I'm here. Here I am." There's a dry smile that quirks Jill's lips upwards and a nod of her head towards the still-burning pyre. "I didn't know him. Shame."

Once Jackson is seated, Nadya makes her way over to him, leaning in behind him to wrap her arms around his neck and press her cheek to his. She says something quietly, a smile curving her lips as she talks.

Nadya whispers “You know, the whole point to the link is so that we can talk to one another. At some point, you'll have to figure it out.”

Jackson seems a bit surprised at Jill, considering the detective has seen her around the department; he just didn't put two and two together there. He reaches his hands up to brush against Nadya's arms with them wrapped around his neck. He tilts his head toward her and watches the flames and the group approaching the Pure to give their condolences. There's a brief smile given to Brant, and he drops one hand to grab for his beer, taking a drink out of it. He leans back against Nadya and continues to watch the flames.

The heat from the pyre, given that it's a six foot tall funeral pyre, gets a little intense. Thankfully it's been a little chilly lately, but the flames start to rise up toward the body on top of it and engulf it in a near ten-foot pillar of fire that stretches up into the night. One of Jackson's eyes turns black as he draws his vision to split so he can look at the Hisil and the real world at once, glancing up at his Totem, then looking over the funeral pyre to study the spirits attracted to the Rite.

Nadya turns her head to kiss Jackson's cheek before drawing her arms away, "I'm going to go say goodbye to Blackheart and Munnin before they leave and see how his wife is doing." Then she places another kiss to the top of his head before wandering toward the Pure, so that she can speak to them.

Blackheart and Muninn take the condolences of each of the Forsaken wolfblooded and Uratha greet them. They shake hands with each, and Blackheart offers a smile and accepts the condolences of each as the line works its way through them. Finally, once the last person has given their condolences, the Pure start to pack it in, with their Alpha giving another respectful bow, before heading away from the gathering.

Brant is somber as he speaks softly with the Anshega, the retired Marine knowing there is no good condolance for losing a brother in arms, even defeating the cause of his death. He shakes hands and bows to both, before moving to take a post near Jackson by the pyre. He produces his rifle and presents arms to the fallen warrior, joining in the vigil.

Chris moves quietly to slip next to really the only person he knows here, Ashley. A quiet pressence at the moment as he settles in almost like a shadow.

Nadya has said words to the Pure before they left, so now she turns to watch the pyre, keeping a close eye on the flames to make sure that they don't spread.

Ashley spots Chris moving into the group of people incognito. And then she lifts up a palm to offer him the communion berry everyone received. "Snack?" A playful writ on her grey eyes, even if she has a somber expression for the funeral. Yes, she's trying to be good this evening. Des not too far away, and then she slips an arm around Chris as she leans in his direction. "Better late than never. I'll introduce you to a few people this evening now that you are here. And elated you found this place. Everything ok?"

Deborah returns to hishu... jeans, running shoes, and tanktop on. Not the most formal thing ever, but it's not like this is a human funeral, either. "Super strange, yeah," the blonde agrees. "Met him once. Thought it was weird... not having a Cahalith to speak for him. So I volunteered." She shrugs. She looks back, watching the pure get their condolances and slip away. "Of course, there's still some lines I won't cross," she says of those being all nice to the pack.

"The Pure don't have Cahalith. They aren't blessed by Luna," is Jill's immediate observation as she rolls the berry thoughtfully between her index finger and thumb. "But not to have someone to see to his glory..." Jill trails off and her expression darkens and grows far more dour. "Even the Pure deserve that even if they're stubborn, foolhardy, and a giant pain in the ass." The berry is hefted, popped between Jill's lips, and devoured in the blink of an eye. It's a berry, it isn't much, and Jill has a hungry look about her at the moment. "This won't be the last funeral, not until things are finished. Let's hope it's finished sooner. Fewer funerals that way."

Jackson moves to stand up as Nadya goes to catch Blackheart and talk to him about his wife. He moves over to the place where he was keeping his bag and pulls out some regular street clothes, taking off his robe and moving to pull on his regular clothing. He picks up the rifle that he left there as well. He swings it up over his shoulder and goes to stand by Brant in silence as the flames overtake the body and start to consume it hungrily. He takes a deep breath and glances up at the sky for a moment, noting the moon, then back at the body. Soon, the scent of burning flesh fills the air, but the scent of burning pine and cedar is far stronger. Seeing a wolf he doesn't know, the Ritemaster nods toward Chris.

With the exit of the Pure, Desmond has offered his part. He walks back away from the Pyre, and heads toward the looming far off sight of the mountain. The Iminir doesn't linger to give anyone a goodbye, not even so much as a head nod. He just goes off, back to Alderstone.

Levi blinks over towards Deborah and Jill, his eyes glinting with that cruel streak of the predator. It's innate that his eyes find the weak points first, throat, hidden scars, that hitch in the left side they haven't told anyone about. The Irraka gives a soft chuff. "The Pure are misguided and our stories of them being boogey men are clearly exagerated. They bled and died to keep this place safe as much as we did - if not moreso. They came to us with peace and they still seek to keep it. Things are finished with the Bale Hounds, and if our collective community can swallow a little fucking pride, we might be able to avoid restarting a war we were losing. If they can put a hold to their apparent crusade to end us, then we can afford our cousins the Honor to try." He pulls on his cigarette again and turns his gaze back to the pyre, exhaling slowly.

Deborah nods. "You're right, they don't. If they did, I... probably would not have come. But there was no one else to tell his tale." She shrugs again. "You missed the part where they said their pack is leaving. So if there are more funerals to come, it won't be by their hand. In their own way, they were trying to act like Uratha should. One people, and not against eachother." It doesn't quite sound like she believes it herself, but she's trying. That's something, at least.

Jackson points out as he overhears the conversation: "We were informed that the Bale Hounds were the cause of Urdaga deaths around this area, not the Pure. So, even if they weren't leaving, I highly doubt that they'd wind up killing us anyhow." He gestures toward the corpse on the pyre, "Case in point, the fellow we're honoring here died fighting the Bale Hounds that killed our own people." He looks back to the fire. "There's no Lunar Crusade in Fallcoast. With the Pure leaving, hopefully people will be more interested in fighting the threats from the Hisil. Like the Ridden and Urged. We also should probably dedicate some resources toward figuring out how a whole pack of Bale Hounds managed to chill around here and go unnoticed. There're probably more Wounds out there. It's worth investigating, at least."

Nadya is quiet as she listesn to the conversations. Every once in awhile, a word here or there will have her frowning, although she doesn't say anything. Levi and Jackson say enough about it, really. She tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocks back a bit on her heels as she continues to watch the fire. There's the unpleasant scent of the body burning, but it doesn't seem to bother her too much.

Visibly, there's little weakness to be found in Jillian's facade. It's a practiced stance; stiff backed, shoulders squared, chin up. The durable fabric of her uniform covers too much skin to find scars, but there's a slight more tension in her frame that necessary to keep her upright. "The Pure are wolves like any other. Mostly. Their biggest fault, to me, is how they view us and what they're willing to do to prove a point." Jill shoots a pointed, somewhat stern glance towards her cousin. "But we'll see. I'm inclined to agree about what we should be focusing on the most." The cap is retrieved from under her arm and placed atop her hair, the dark tail into which her hair is tied is also adjusted.

Seraphine's lips part, and then purse. As if she was considering breaking her silence, and then decided against it. There's one last glance to the Pyre, and then the People, before the vodoun turns. Making her way back, alone and quiet, just as she arrived. Comments added to Ticket 285 by Levi.

Ashley watches Des go as he returns to his mountain. And then she gently walks with Chris closer to where Levi and Jackson are. "This was not an easy task and as hard as it was I think you all handled it well. Not everyone can spin grace out of a long standing hatred. My own feelings aside from the past in the first fight that broke out with the Fimbulvetr, I think you've set the standard for performing and making the impossible happen. Well done." She compliments.

Levi glances up when Seraphine makes her quiet exit, blinking once before returning to his cigarette. The conversation continues around him and he nods once towards each point made in turn. "There's little to see about it, the Pure here have a track record of not hunting us. And at this point they recognize the state of the Hisil and won't be getting in our way while we try to right things. We may even be able to find a true truce given time." Ashley approaches and he turns towards her first, a fond little smile coming for the blonde before his attention snaps onto Chris. That same wheedling, prodding, poking gaze that he turned on Deb and Jill is now focused on the new face. From boots to shoulders and back again he reads Chris like a book before nodding to Ashley, "I am unconvinced at this point, that the wolves Kharn and Kaheya fought were Pure. Or if they were, that they were actually a part of the packs here. And I appreciate you saying as much, Ash, I'd like to see the peace prosper." Turning back to Chris, the Irraka offers his hand, "Levi Grey, Uth'Hala, Alpha of The Murder, the beanpole that led festivities is Jackson Wilkes, Gizulla'Hala, Beta of The Murder. You are?"

"Thank you, Ashley. I appreciate you saying that," Jackson says. "You probably saw the scars. My original pack, the Wardens of Helios, they were all killed by the Pure back in Portland, Oregon. It's no secret that a lot of Pure dislike us, but this one in particular," he nods toward the pyre, "helped us. So hopefully this healed some of the wounds between our respective peoples." He catches Seraphine leaving and calls out, "See you, Sera. Be careful." Likely he noticed the scar, which is largely none of his business. He glances back to Jill. "We do need to figure out how to make sure the Hisil doesn't become more of a problem around here. Bale Hounds kept us unfocused. And the whole Pure thing kept us divided. That's why I said what I did," the Ithaeur concludes.

"Jarod was neither of their pack, nor their tribe," Deborah counters Jill, a tad bluntly. "I love you Coz, but... this is a funeral. If I - and this is /me/ we're talking about - can keep a level head, I expect you to do the same." A pause, before her tone softens, but not her look that means business. "We'll hash it out later. Got some amazing family news you should hear."

There's a small wave given over Seraphine's shoulder to Jackson, acknowledging his call. Glancing over that shoulder, and giving him a look that telegraphs 'always'. It's a smirk-smile. And then the blooded is gone, into the woods, to follow whatever path she made to get here.

There's a flat stare afforded both Levi and Deborah. "I can see that both of you misunderstood what I meant," she says, equally flat as her stare. "I'm not interested in provocation. I don't have any problems with the Pure unless they make them mine. I meant we'll see as in we'll see whether or not the present problems at hand, those not dealing with the Pure, can be ended before there are too many more deaths." Sighing rather heavily, Jill begrudgingly adjusts her jacket and glances back towards the tree line. "Family news? Not here then." There's a glance at her watch, a cheap digital piece that tells the time and nothing more. "My shift isn't over. I'm here to 'investigate' a disturbance." That takes some of the chill from her features.

Levi winces a little and offers a muttered, "Sorry then," before listening and gathering the point of Jill's statements, then a smirk and a nod, "That hope is a slim one. The Hisil here is shattered, corruption and Hosts abound. Be on the look out for rats. The more there are, the more likely the Beshilu are near. Thank you, for clarifying though." He means it and with a respectful nod, the Gypsy returns to his cigarette and watches as the fire snaps and crackles around wood and body. A glance up to the pack's totem that looms in the tree nearby and the Irraka exchanges creepy avian side-eyes with Death Crow...yanno, if you can see him - otherwise he's just giving weird looks to a tree.

Ashley does notice Levi's gaze moving over Chris and she too lifts her gaze at the newest Wolf now standing beside her. She doesn't want to spoil the introduction so she will wait for Chris to properly introduce himself once ready. In return to the comments from the Alpha and Beta Murder she replies, "The Kar Suthar soon following was a pack of war that wanted vengeance on our fallen brothers. We sincerely thought the Pure were to blame for Kaheya's death. I think with what happened here today it has lessened some of the pain still felt. We know the Truth now. Or at least so far -I- have come to accept some of what Levi has told me. Kharn however, I'm not sure his feelings on things. There is a strong divide still among us on how much we lost." She pauses to look at Jackson. "Your scars on the outside, look very similar to the scars I wear on the inside. I know your pain. I wish I didn't. But I do. If only healing were so easy, but I see your new pack is trying. Thank you, for rending wrongs right."

"Well, the Pure aren't completely gone from the area with Blackheart and his family and pack leaving," Jackson points out. "There are some Predator Kings still wandering around the area, but they've mostly let things lie, as far as I can tell." He pauses. "I'd also watch out for Azlu. Azlu tend to come about when Beshilu make themselves known. Unfortunately you can't usually have one without the other." He frowns at that and considers his own words, looking to Jill. "Jill, I think Sybil said your name was? Anyhow, if you run into issues, check in with Harrison. My partner in general crimes is a Namer. Harrison tends to make sure that our supernatural shit gets swept under the rug. As best he can for being Herd, anyway." He pauses. "But it's best to still not let him know what you are, obviously. If he finds out, he finds out. If not, then all the better for keeping the Oath."

Following Jackson saying that, the logs holding up the top of the pyre crack and the body collapses into the hotter part of the flames, ashes starting to drift up and catch on the wind. The Ithaeur glances back over at it, and then smiles at Ashley. "Ithaeur are meant to hold worlds together or apart, as it were."

"Will do. I'm not fond of the Beshilu, moreso than many of us, but I'm not going to get into that here. As for the Oath--I'm an Elodoth. I don't share what can be absolutely avoided, or at least artfully reworded." There's a toothy smile, but not one with any warmth. "I'm good at sweeping my own messes, but if I need a hand, I'll take your advice. I'm sure it'll be useful some day, but the farther off the better." Inclining her head respectfully to the wolves gathered nearby, Jill turns her attention towards Deborah. "Stay out of trouble. I need to head back and continue my route. I'll call you in a couple of hours or you can call me. I'll be on Ran's Net either way."

Nadya wanders over to the cooler that Jackson had brought, peering inside for something that doesn't containt alcohol. After a moment or two, she simply fishes out a couple of ice cubes so that she can crunch away on them while listening to everyone talk. Her gaze continually moves toward the fire and the ground around it, making sure that embers are flying out where they shouldn't be going and starting any other little fires. Eventualy, she wanders back toward the group, finding Levi so that she can lean lazily against his side while giving him a cheeky smile.

Debs offers her own teeth-showing grin. "Enough trouble finds me, you'd think I was looking for it. Or Irraka," she says with a laugh. "Yeah, I'll swing by, maybe. No sense in using phones if the house-hunting has me close enough to swing by after." House hunting? At this hour?

Levi nods to Ashley with a small smile, "Kharn's search for Glory blinds him to other aspects of our life. But that's not my place or your place to fix. He will have to come to his own conclusions when all of the evidence is staring him in the face. As I said, I'm not convinced at this point that the pack Fimbulvetr fought was Pure, but history now. Thank you for coming out, darling." The cigarette is pulled on slowly again, the smoke leaving his nostrils in a slow billow of smoke. As Nadya moves over to lean on him, the Gypsy gives the other Gypsy an arm around her shoulders to hug her to his side for a moment, a head bonk and then he is quiet again, letting the wash of heat from the collapsing pyre wash over him.

"Thank you, by the way, Deborah, for helping me with that," Jackson says. He looks over at the fire again, then looks back toward the remaining group. He smiles over at Levi and Nadya, and then pats Brant on the shoulder as the flames begin to die down a little as they start to burn themselves out and turn the logs and sticks to ashes and cracked wood. He lowers his rifle to rest the butt on the ground, then lowers his head to speak softly in the First Tongue. It's a prayer for soul's guidance. Not quite a Rite, but something that might be recognized as an appeal to the spirits to give a good send-off. After that, he falls quiet, focusing intently on the fires burning themselves out.