Whispers on the Wind's quest:

Village of the West Wind

I know, I know, you hated all the music. We've stopped RPing it so as not to irritate other GarouMUSHers (ain't peer pressure great?), but there was an incredible bit of background behind it, and here it is.

Dylan lowers his eyes briefly with a touch of apology. "I'm sorry. Looks like I said something wrong. I'm Dylan, by the way."
Joseph's gaze trails after the girl, marking exactly where she goes. Standing from the crouch if necessary.
The younger children, as many children are wont, aren't bothered by the older boy's discomfort. "Weren't your fault," one of them adds to Dylan, crowing at the boy at the same time. He glares back at the child, sulkily. The girl takes this opportunity on her reeds again, sending a spiralling series of notes out like a query.
Wayfinder drops to her belly in the bushes, waiting for her packmates to finish with introductions, while keeping an eye on happening in and outside of the village.
Paul doesn't offer his name, just continues sitting quietly with his staff across his knees. And his eyes on where the young girl ran off to, for the most part.
Paul's fingers move quietly for a moment, pale against the dark wood.
Sepdet holds her question for the moment, content to watch and listen. She glances between Dylan and the girl, eyes darting briefly to Paul's hands.
Pack> Wayfinder will just pretend to be a dog, if she is noticed. Or you can whistle for her. She pretends to be 'rover' quite well. :)
Dylan glances back at Sepdet, Paul, and Joseph, then lifts the flute again. A high, sweet lift of notes, like a wing catching the wind, and then a soft downward rush. Over the wood and his moving fingers, he watches the girl with the flute quite steadily.
From afar, Paul signs carefully, "Rhya, I am thinking we should ask the kids about the mountaintop? Perhaps the area? They may answer more readily than their parents."

Pack> Sepdet likes having one of us hidden and out of sight, just for the nonce. _Just_ in case.
Pack> Paul is happy with it too. And DAMN glad I can talk to Sepdet without opening my fat lips.

The older girl gets that same perplexed look on her face as if she does not understand. She tries a different series of notes. The boy, close to her age, picks up his instrument and also starts to stalk off towards the village after his sister.
Sepdet nods and grins lopsidedly to Paul. "Exactly what I was gonna say," she whispers, and turns back towards the children. Addressing one of the younger ones quietly, so as not to disturb the music, she murmurs, "We are going up to the mountaintop. Have you ever been up there?"
Dylan mimicks the series of notes questioningly, though for a moment his eyes follow the departing boy.

Pack> Paul figures Sepdet, being a nice small person, and a lady, you're maybe not so threatening as some of us. :)
Pack> Dylan says "But she's in glabro!"
Pack> Sepdet frets about Sepdet's choice to stay looking elfish. But this is the deep umbra. There's no _way_ that the rules of the world are the same here.
Pack> Sepdet thinks that's why she's doing it, but it still worries me. :)

The girl laughs and shakes her head sadly at Dylan. To Sepdet she sends out a stream of shrill notes that can only mean no, that she has not. "Aren't allowed," one of the younger boys says. "Not yet, anyway," another adds. Having judged the newcomers not a threat, the very youngest of the children run off to continue playing. Common sense roots a few of the others in place a while longer. From the playing children come songs; even much of their talking is really singing. A few take out hand-carved musical instruments and play on them as part of their games.
Pack> Wayfinder has to resist the urge to bring out Mom's tin whistle.
Paul cocks his head a little, listening to the musical antics of the children, and apparently wondering if this too is 'speech'. Like the speech of spirits, or of birds.
Selene wings her way above the small hamlet, casting about below her as she glides.
Sepdet looks back at her pack, raising an eyebrow in question...stay for the adults, or leave, now?
Dylan's eyes rest on the girl who only plays. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I missed it, didn't I? Can you help me understand? Or to understand what we will find, if we go to the top?"
Joseph's thumb wanders over the turtle shell in his hand and he looks up again, thoughtfully. Putting the rattle away again, he glances toward the village.
Paul says quietly to Sepdet, "Polite if we chat with the folks, I think. Perhaps we should find them, though. They might not actually come out to meet us."
The girl regards Dylan thoughtfully for a moment. She plays one single, positive note, a note that can only mean yes.

Pack> Wayfinder says "Are they all wind instruments?"
Pack> Joseph thinks Slick had a string instrament in there somewhere.
Pack> Paul wants to learn the gift 'music speech' now.
Pack> Sepdet glances back. "He did, and he says they're not all wind instruments."
Pack> Paul nods.

Dylan smiles slowly, mostly in the eyes. "Please, then."
Paul asks quietly to one of the kids, "You said you weren't allowed yet? When will you be? Allowed to go to the peak, that is."
The child seems about to answer when he is interrupted by a rhythmic though soft drumming. An older woman walks into the clearing, the tattle-tale girl by her side. She carries a tiny drum at her side and taps on it with a delicate stick as she walks. The complexity of the rhythm she is able to produce is astounding on such a simple instrument.
Paul raises his eyebrows and rises quietly to his feet, staff grounded and held loosely in his left hand.
Paul twitches his hand, almost in time with the drum, smile growing a little.
Sepdet sits up--slowly, unthreateningly--and leans back Joseph, whispering, "Rattle?"
Joseph turns at the sound, his eyebrow raising with acute appreciation for the rhythmic sounds and his gaze shifts to take in the woman.
From afar, Paul signs awkwardly,
Dylan stays where he is, but his amusement increases sharply. He murmurs, "I see. I am a child, here. Well, that is appropriate enough."
She is perhaps forty, a bit weathered. Her hands are calloused but she holds the delicate drumstick with ease. She is not threatening or frightening at all, beyond what one might read as a protective streak.
Sepdet nods slightly towards Paul and waits again, dipping her eyes at the woman respectfully.
Paul bows slightly, eyes on the older woman's chin.
Selene circles a bit lower, decidedly unowllike.
Joseph's eyes shift to the drum and then Sepdet's whisper seems to register with him and he again takes out his rattle. He holds it awkwardly, though, in the presence of one who can make a drum talk so.
A few more moments with the drum and the women grows silent. One of the younger children comes over, looking a little frustrated as if this whole scene were disrupting his play time. "She's asking you what it is you want," he tells them, sullenly.
Wayfinder, still hidden, tilts her ears forward, perplexed.
Paul murmurs impulsively, "To live, to grow, to learn wisdom, to earn the favor of the winds, to help my friends and my family."
Dylan smiles at Paul and rises to his feet.
Sepdet sighs shyly at the woman. "We do not speak your language well, yet." She closes her eyes and hums a short snatch of notes, again a piece of her healer's lullabye, which is as much an introduction as she can give.
Joseph adds in a respectful tone, 'We seek the wind which calls us to the mountain top, and wondered what if anything you could tell us of it."

Pack> Sepdet hehs at Dylan and Joseph. "At least you speak their language a bit."
Pack> Paul says "More than me, the lot of you. I've got a good ear, but Paul's no musician yet. Not even close."
Pack> Joseph dreams one day of being able to handle a drum like that. :)
Pack> Paul says "He can sing decently, I guess."

The woman beats her response in a flurry of rhythm, to each of the Garou that have spoken.
Dylan lifts the flute again, and plays that sweet lift of notes again, this time rising off until it runs out of itself, a curling lick of hope and question.
Paul cocks his head, striving to feel the meaning woven into the drumbeats much as he first strove to understand what *run* meant.
She smiles, at least, in response to Dylan's attempt and gestures towards the village.
Pack> Dylan thinks percussion is what grown-ups do here. :)
Sepdet listens intently, trying to muster some inner sense...perhaps through spirit's tongue, or old memories of sitting at the sea's edge with her old friend Hollytoe singing the sun up.
Joseph's hand lifts the rattle again, though he does not play it. He gives a soft chuckle and a faint shake of his head, not understanding more than rudiments of what is played, but he nods at the offer and moves forward.
Dylan dips his head to the woman.
Sepdet gets to her feet. "We have our own song," she reminds her packmates in a soft voice, but not so soft the strangers cannot hear. "But it would be very strange to them."
The pattern woven into the music is a complex thing; that, at least, becomes apparent when you apply yourself to it. Your attempt seems to earn a look of respect, if nothing else, from the woman. She leads you back to the village, forty or fifty bark huts on the mountainside.
Paul brins his attention back to here and now, and moves to follow Joseph, a whistle coming to his lips. A whistling tune for walking the miles away, travelling with friends.
Not the best of whistling, mind, but Paul's spirit is showing clearly in it at least for now.

Pack> Wayfinder uhms. What about me?
Dylan turns, and simply holds out his hand to the bushes that conceal his final packmate.
Pack> Dylan says "Er, sorry to be impulsive."
Pack> Sepdet says "Impulsive keeps things going."
Pack> Dylan says "And that's like a year's quota for me."
Pack> Joseph says "its what I was going to suggest :)"

Selene lands on a branch above Wayfinder, looking down with a hooted, *I am sure she would appreciate your song, Finder of ways, if she took the time to listen and not be afraid.*
The village is no different; it shows, if nothing else, a dizzying array of musical instruments and the same silent adults and boisterous children. No attempt is made to show you the path that leads further up the mountain, though.
Wayfinder steps out of the bushes, head dipped shyly, and pads forwards to Dylan.
Selene flips her wings to her back for a brief moment before taking wing again. *Not like you can't do better than my boy does.*
Paul looks over his shoulder, and mutters, "I heard that, this time. I think?"
Sepdet grins faintly at Paul. "She said your shoe's untied," the Strider mutters helpfully. For the moment, Sepdet seems willing to follow the villagers' directions, though her strange eyes flicker often to the mountaintop above.
Pack> Dylan giggles at Sepdet.
Pack> Paul laughs too. "Nice."
Joseph marvels at the designs, both variant and complexly beautiful, that surround him though he dare not touch any. Looking up, hjis gaze is drawn to the mountain as well, and when it is clear there seems to be nothing further to ask or add, he looks to his packmates.
Paul closes his eyes once the group comes to a halt among the buildings, trying to cut off distractions from the swirl of communication around them.
The woman leads you to a hut in the centre of the village. Other adults gather around, curious about the newcomers. A gathering of sorts forms in one of the huts, maybe a half dozen adults and your pack. The sound of their discussions are like a band coming together.
Wayfinder trots next to Dylan, looking for all the world like a miniature wolfhound at heel.
Sepdet holds her palms forward to the elders, and yips queryingly, resorting to wolf-sounds to convey her request for attention.
Dylan's smile fades a little as they come into the village, and his eyes go again to the peak of the mountain.
Selene swoops down, a little awkwardly admittedly, to perch on the top of Paul's staff. And there, to hoot in a curious tone. *What odd people, even for humans. Their dreams must be full of song. I wonder what they're like?*
After a brief moment the elders stop playing and all eyes turn to Sepdet.
Sepdet attempts to put her words to a simple tune, probably that of some other song she already knows. "Travellers from afar, we came at the wind's calling. The wind's called us to this mountain. The wind is singing, and we hear it. We followed it across the wild lands. We followed it into the mountain's roots. We forded a boiling river at its summons. The wind calls us to the high place, the sacred place. We obey its bidding, to learn and understand its music, and to share our own, which is not like yours."
Several of the people nod, in understanding. One or two offer their music to the discussion, a positive sound.
Wayfinder's ears flicker this way and that, and her nose twitches as she scents everything about her, as well as scanning the surroundings with her dark eyes.
Dylan considers, then sings, words fitting slowly and carefully to a melody which seems to suit them, his voice a little thin, but sure and flexible. "The children give warning, the adult's welcome. Is there anything the wind's followers may do for you on their path to the mountain's peak, or on theoir return?"
One of the men looks at the others of his village. He plays a song, a light and simple song, a children's song, full of children's concerns and children's ways. It starts a bit haltingly and choppy but grows in complexity and sophistication until it is a beautiful and wonderful thing when he is done, its tones drifting out and up to the far reaches of the mountain.
The group looks at you expectantly.
Several of the people nod, in understanding. One or two offer their music to the discussion, a positive sound.
Dylan considers, then sings, words fitting slowly and carefully to a melody which seems to suit them, his voice a little thin, but sure and flexible. "The children give warning, the adult's welcome. Is there anything the wind's followers may do for you on their path to the mountain's peak, or on theoir return?"'.
Sepdet bites her lip. ~My gut says we should go wolf, and sing to them, thus. I _know_ they're human...but that's the only way we can answer them in kind.~
From afar, Paul signs carefully,
Paul moves his hands quietly, shaping them carefully through several positions.
Dylan nods, and tucks his flute away. "It is not the realm. I admit, however, that the thought makes me somewhat uneasy."
Joseph holds the rattle more confidently in his hand, and sets it to its truest purpose as he adds his own song to the general chorus. The rain from the ancient turtle shell wakes, reflecting the Wendigo's hopes for this jounrey. He looks to his packmates, "Its not them we need to communicate with, its ourselves."
Wayfinder tilts back her head and sends out a light, questioning howl.
Dylan turns a smile on Joseph. "Both, perhaps?" But the smile is an agreement enough.
Sepdet sighs wryly at the two philodoxes, whatever they said being a predictable caution. She turns back to the villagers. "We will go," she hums softly, "if you permit. But listen for us. We will make our own song, up there, and perhaps you will find it beautiful."
Paul raises his voice, trying for purity of notes, of sound, to frame his thoughts, halting meaning coming through for those who listen to the spirits. *..Shows the Way.. ..Follow.. ..learn.. ..Fly!.. ..Climb.. ..Seek the wind.. ..Teach.. ..how to listen..*
Joseph's attempt at playing encourages the group, somewhat. They play off of the rhythm he sets up, encouraging and strengthening it.
Joseph lets himself get wrapped in the encouraging music played back to him. He lets the rhythm within the rattle take the lead, growing stronger and moe confident in the complex sound.
Smiles break out all around; or almost all around. One or two of the stodgiest look at Paul as they would a child. But they have no trouble understanding what has been requested. Through gestures, accompanied by music, they discuss things among themselves.
Sepdet smiles and just lets the music go, turning to face the mountain. She tilts back her head and cups her hands to her face, adding a single strange shimmering howl into the music that is midway between a true wolf's song and the keening cry of a bird. It is the same howl she uses to greet the totems in Opening Sky.
Dylan tips his face back to the wind and falls into the silence which comes so naturally, while the songs curl around him.
They seem to come to a concensus and all around. The group are shown to proper lodging, offered food, and generally befriended by at least one of the adults. Or at least those in homid form are. The next day they are encouraged to make their own instruments if they do not already have one and the slow and painstaking process of teaching you how to understand and talk with music begins.
Slick pages to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan: Oops. Wayfinder shifted. Good. all of you are.

Pack> Dylan says "Oh....Wow......oh... /wow/."
Pack> Paul woahs. "Wow indeed. Guess they liked my request among others. Hope time's still funny."
Slick pages: Remind me not to GM somebody's plot again; its too difficult to follow somebody else's plan.
Long distance to Slick: Sepdet oys. :) "But we're really enjoying this...more than the others. Don't tell BR."
Pack> Dylan nods, and is just glad we're getting fed. :)
Pack> Joseph laughs.
From afar, to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan, Slick apologizes for fast forwarding a bit but I don't know how to RP these next few poses with you all. :P Please feel free to summarize your experiences learning and the speed with which you do so.
From afar, to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Slick, Dylan grins, and is so pleased and stunned at the turn of events that she wouldn't object if you hand-waved the next three years. :)
Slick pages to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan: Thank Paul.
Paul pages: This is the whole of what I actually told Slick: From afar, Paul chuckles. "Paul's not so good.. Intent was: "I am shows the way.. We want to follow the winds to where they lead, learn from them and the world, fly to wherever they take us, climb to the heights or the depths. To seek the winds, teach us how to listen, please!"... Followed by the page: From afar, Paul notes: Song and sound were part of how sepdet was teaching paul spirit speech, so while he was trying for purity of meaning in song, that's pretty much impossible for him. Especially when he's trying not to use words, and JUST learned non verbal communication for spirits.


The teaching is typically done individually, allowing the Garou to learn at their own pace. Some, those more musically inclined, pick up the basics more quickly than the others. The girl from the clearing, the one with the reed instrument, hovers around Dylan and practices with him.
Paul seems to be at first unable to decide what form suits him best. Eventually, percussion and voice seem to grow together under the musicians' tutelage, and sticks on wood, with humming or wordless song, become as natural as sign, or speech, or running through the woods. Not so fast as a musician, perhaps, but something in his soul seems to soak the learning in like a sponge.
Days pass, turning into weeks, and more. In this time should you attempt to find the path to the summit, you are firmly though politely turned back. The children never go there, though the adults sometimes do.
Dylan moves from flute to stringed instruments to the drum, and back again, his old trio of instruments. He learns all of them, but it is the flute he always returns to.
Sepdet's musical talent isn't particularly impressive, but she has a good ear for listening to the sense of things, even if she has a bad habit of lapsing into sign or dance to try to communicate back. Still, she has her lullabyes and chants, snatches of old Egyptian songs, and the melodies of White Veils and Hollytoe, which she gradually adapts enough to bridge the gulf. Her whispered humming is often heard from the treetops or roofs of the village huts.
Wayfinder contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Wayfinder shifts into Homid form.
Joseph's great love of the drum manifests itself in an immersion of precussion in every way shape and form. The Wendigo picks up the complex rhythms with increasing delight and enthusiasm.
Progress is slow, though, and impatience burns in some of you. It isn't so much musical talent that is built, but a feel for the meaning behind the music; you come to recognize it as a langage in and of itself with its own nuances and feelings.

Long distance to Slick: Sepdet smiles. "Come full circle. Remember Fire-Drums and Sepdet playing, when they were cubs?"

Weeks burn into months; you begin to wonder if its really worth the effort of continuing to struggle with such a difficult subject.
Siobhan's learning is fairly measured, as she learns in fits and starts, suddenly making connections and breakthroughs. Although competant with a drum, she excels rapidly with her own tiny, dented, tin whistle.
Dylan applies himself with a near-inhuman patience, but there are evenings when he falls silent and his eyes go to the peak of the mountain. The passing time etches the lines deeper into his face, and the veins darker on his hands. He begins speaking less and less in any way except with the music.
Pack> Dylan says "Eeep! months! :}"
Sepdet worries about the caern, but she is curiously detatched from the place which has bound her feet for so long. It is more Dylan that she watches carefully, as time passes. Yet when she speaks to her packmates, her feelings for what they are doing is quite certain: these humans have lived with the wind, and they know its language. Sepdet believes the way they teach is the path towards the summit.

Pack> Paul sees Dylan getting old on us, but happy with pure sound. Woof.
Pack> Paul says "Tough trade."
Pack> Dylan grins. Dylan's content with it.
Pack> Sepdet figured he would be. But still.
Pack> Dylan nods.

Joseph's course of learning takes him on a particular tack; he speaks only with the instraments after a while, keeping his spoken voice as silent as he can, though this takes time.
One day, after what might be years; it is so hard to tell the passage of time in this place, Dylan is taken to the path that leads to the summit and told, through music, that he is free to climb if he will. Others that are with him at the time, Sepdet and Paul, are not.
Paul applies himself to his tasks, trying not to worry about things beyond his control. In time, the messages o/~Wind would not lead us so far from home, to meet its favor, at the cost of the Wheel. I'm sure of it. o/~
From afar, to Joseph, Sepdet, Siobhan, Dylan, and Slick, Paul makes bizarre quotes that don't look quite how he wanted for speech through song.
Dylan smiles and shakes his head. His flute says that they will all go together, when it is time.
Siobhan spends more time playing music with the children than she should, and sometimes just plays for the trees and rocks nearby. Even in music-speech, she is shy around adults.
Though Dylan refuses at the time, the offer is made again to Dylan and Joseph later when even more time has passed.
From afar, to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Dylan, and Slick, Siobhan figures shyness would be communicated through any kind of speech that Wayf was using...
Sepdet gives Dylan a worried half-whine, half-flurry of notes deep in the back of her throat, the day that he is offered passage, but she abides by his wishes, knowing that this place is nourishing to him in one way even as it takes from him in another.
One day, a child comes up to Paul. "Why doesn't your friend accept what he's worked so hard for?" he child asks.
Paul furrows his brown and replies: o/~We are a family. We travel together, and he wishes us with him. o/~
Sadly, it takes him a few tries to get the thought sounded out.
Paul is next to be offered the path to the summit, again with Dylan and Joseph.
Sepdet asks the elders one night of the full moon if her 'family' can slip away to the woods to try something. She has sung little of what they really are, but her music betrays her jackal's side; the Strider's careful mask doesn't fit in a place without silence.
A few white strands begin to show in Dylan's hair. His peace remains untouched, but his silence grows ever deeper. There is no language in him any longer but music.
Paul rests his staff on his legs, the sticks that are now his constant companions explaining to them too that: o/~Elders, we are a family. I think we will only go to our goal when all of us can follow that road. o/~
The response to Sepdet is that they are free to come and go as they wish.
Pack> Paul forsees our homecoming being... very strange. "I hope we still remember how to talk."
Siobhan grows sadder as she sees her tribesmate aging. Still, her whistling 'language' is directed at trees, birds, children, and even packmates, but rarely at adults, although she grows proficient at understanding them 'speak'.
Sepdet wants to hear how the music has changed the wolfsong. She goes out into the forest that night, and howls for the others. But when they arrive, she is in glabro, and at first hums in this new language we are learning, to see how our music is going to work together.
Pack> Dylan says "I suspect it will take Dylan a bit to remember, Paul. :)"
Paul's own hum, along with the tapping of his sticks joins Sepdet's without much prompting.
Dylan brings the flute's voice out of silence.
Sepdet slips into lupus halfway through that evening, dropping back to blended wolf's song, but there is meaning behind her howl even more than any pack's singing now.
Siobhan 's whistle joins in as an affirmative high tone, later turning to a questioning rill.
Joseph falls into place with little effort, matching Sepdet's song with his deeper voice and a complex rhythm of curious notes on the drum.
Long distance to Paul, Joseph, Siobhan, Dylan, and Slick: Sepdet sorries to slow things down for a minute, but I've got a tape of wolves howling right now, and it just makes sense for a garou pack. :)
Dylan's eyes glimmer. He tips his head back, and tries a human wolf-howl, to see what will happen, then drops down to lupus and joins in again, the closest he has come to his old ways of communicating in a long time.
Siobhan drops gratefuly to wolf-form after being away from it for so long. Her tone joins Hope's in a joyous affimation, and eagerness to be moving on.
Paul sets his sticks aside, to join his family in fur and lift his voice in cheerful dissonance with theirs.
Pack> Siobhan basically says in howl-tones: o/~ This is great! Now can we get going to that mountain...?~/o
Sepdet adds patience to Siobhan's eagerness, reminding her that we all know the journey matters as much as how it will end. But mostly her high shimmering cry is content to say nothing; she has moved into the sounds beyond words.
Joseph lets the drum grow quiet, his form shifting to join the others, his howl risingin complex dissonance as well.
Sepdet's face is flushed and proud, when we finally let the silence come, shift back, and return to the village in the wee hours before dawn. She hums softly to the adults, like a child showing off a picture. Did you hear us? Did you hear?
The following day the path to the summit is laid open, the adults in the village a little awestruck from the previous night's chorus. The entire village is, in fact, abuzz with it.
Dylan pages: Do you accept hugs in two-legs, these days?
You paged Dylan with 'Yep.'.
Dylan notes the village's reaction, smiles, and leans over to give Sepdet a hug. Then he starts climbing toward the peak.
Paul places his sticks in his pockets, drum in his pack, and staff in hand bows deeply to the adults of the village before setting out along the path to the summit with his Pack.
Paul taps out with fingers on wood, o/~Learning is always good, but this gift you've given us is priceless. My thanks to you. o/~
Pack> Dylan has already posed leaving. I think I'll thank them on my way down. :)
Sepdet hums a cheerful thanks to the village, ending it with four sweet notes of her old lullabye which has, during her stay here, become almost her name. Then she turns for the mountain, face to the wind.
The way to the peak after that is not hard, leaving the village far behind. As you approach the summit there is a warm wind blowing on your backs, lifting up in the air. The Aetherial Realm, for those who recognize it, is just above your heads, its clouds floating close to the mountain peaks.
Siobhan contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Siobhan shifts into Lupus form.
Sepdet's eyes brighten. She hums softly to the others that perhaps the wind is taking us to the clouds. We will See when we reach the top.
Wayfinder has reconnected.
Paul howls wordless victory until his voice starts to hoarsen as the wind lifts him into the air, even music-made-speech lost to him for the moment.
Dylan stops, just before the summit and turns back, one long, wild, howling note of freedom and thanks echoing down to the village below. Then he turns back to the goal of this journey.
The wind, you find, is unable to lift you from the peak. It strips away that part of you which is flesh. It strips away Dylan's age until he is as young as the day in which he set foot in the Caern of the Wheel Renewed. It strips away the scars from you bodies, the callouses from your feet, and the clothes from your body. Still you are too heavy.
Selene dances in the surging wind as long as she is able, fighting to stay with her friend, and his friends, though the wind lofts her higher.
Dylan lifts his arms to the wind like a lost child, tears that have nothing to do with grief streaking down his face.
Wayfinder whirls nervously in place, anxious to go, but nervous to leave the ground.
From afar, to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan, Slick is going to end it here, for tonight, if you don't mind. I think all we need is a short session to finish up. I need to get you back to the Caern, first, though, so bear with me for some meta-dream stuff.
This revelation lasts only a moment. Before you have a chance to act upon it, the wind whips mists up from the lower valleys and even the peak upon which you stand is obscured. You will wake, tomorrow, back at the Caern. Dylan finds himself, unfortunately, not as young as he was the day he came to the Wheel Renewed. But also find yourselves, fortunately, with your clothes back.


Pack> Dylan giggles at slick.
From afar, to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Dylan, Slick clarifies that. Dylan finds himself the same age he left, not the age he should be nor, thankfully, does he carry the extra years he gained here. None of you are older because of it. Only a few hours have passed.
Dylan pages to Paul, Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, and Slick: Thank you, thank you, thank you, Slick. It was wunnerful. night, all.
Long distance to Paul, Joseph, Wayfinder, Dylan, and Slick: Sepdet looks vastly relieved, about Dylan. "We would all have felt a wee bit silly if we'd got back to the Wheel and ten years had passed." She grins too.
Paul pages to Joseph, Sepdet, Wayfinder, Dylan, and Slick: Gods yes, it was!
Pack> Sepdet hugs Dylan and crows. :) Slick is God.
Long distance to Paul, Joseph, Wayfinder, and Slick: Sepdet hokays."Go bed, Slick. You earned a GOOD evening."
From afar, to Joseph and Sepdet, Dylan can't seem to stop hugging you. :) Be well, you all you all.
Long distance to Joseph: Sepdet dances up and down.
From afar, Joseph chuckles softly. That was incredible.