"What interesting wisdom you seek, little one."

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Beneath glimmering veins of amethyst.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. The cavernous floor comes to an enclosed space here as it narrows towards a delicate veil of shadows. Dim light filters in from outside, barely piercing the shadows that cling to the cavern walls. Dark stones covers the walls, and the walls are lined with veins of shimmering amethyst. The violet gems wind along the walls in circuitous patterns, reflecting what little light there is in the area. Billowing like a cloth in a gentle breeze, a veil of shadows covers a wall of the cavern here. Wyrden Haruspex Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield an atramentous athame of the blackthorn in their left hand.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, and through a delicate veil of shadows.

Esei leans close to you and gently lays a kiss upon your forehead.

You tilt your head curiously at Esei.

Voice containing glacial tones, Wyrden Haruspex Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk whispers, "He waits, i'cha. Do be respectful, yes?"

You nod.
In a melodic quaver, you say, "Of course, Mentor."

Voice containing glacial tones, Wyrden Haruspex Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk whispers, "I must go, for now. Be well."

Skeletal white blossoms flower along the flesh of Esei as their body splits apart into a blizzard of blackthorn petals that leave to the northeast.

You reach out and gently brush your hand against a delicate veil of shadows. Your senses suddenly dull as you feel yourself pulled into the entrancing darkness. As your senses return, you find yourself beneath a beautiful night sky.

The Fulcrux of Nocht.
The image of a beautiful nighttime sky has been stretched across the fulcrux. Dim stars struggle futilely to compete with the terrifying beauty of Mother Night. The ethereal image wavers on occasion, the sky rippling like water in a pond. A lonely hill covered in tall grass leads up to a single shrine. Behind the shrine stands a large blackthorn tree. The tree is taller than most of its kind, extending upwards rather than outwards. Delicate blossoms shower down from its branches, creating a flurry of white petals and filling the air with the pungent scent of wyrden foliage. A complex series of stones orbit around a stygian orb here. A rippling image of a beautiful night sky has been magically wrapped around the fulcrux here. Reverently laid before the shrine in a sheath of starlight and shadow, the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris emanates Divine power here.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

---> look Master Shrine

The lower half of this altar is a slender pillar of smooth black crystal. Detailed depictions of vines have been carefully etched into the crystalline piece, curving all the way to a flat top. Hovering mere inches over the flat surface of the pillar is an orb of churning black shadows, darker than Mother Night herself. Several, bright, white stones circle the stygian orb in complex orbits. Each smooth stone is adorned with divine script, and they glow with a latent power.
It weighs about 375 pounds.
It has the following aliases: shrine.

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

You have emoted: Takhre glances back at the rippling image of Night, before looking around the Fulcrux with curious eyes. They bow deeply to the master shrine of Nocht and gently place a black crow's feather on the ground before the pillar. "Greetings, Lord Silent. I have little skill in the various crafts that my Mentor Esei has mastered, but I wished to bring You something nonetheless."
The image of the night sky ripples as the body of Kaliolean suddenly emerges from its grasp.
You drop a black crow's feather.

Kaliolean inclines their head politely to you.

You incline your head politely to Kaliolean.

Accentuated with gentle warbles, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean says, "Interesting place, this."

A gust of wind disturbs the blackthorn, showering the new arrivals in a snowstorm of bone-white petals.

You think to yourself: It is so quiet in here, like Mentor Esei. I almost feel like I am at home.

You have emoted: Takhre shoots Kaliolean a suspicious squint.
You tilt your head curiously.

Kaliolean clears their throat.

You have emoted: Takhre catches one of the petals as it drifts from above, turning it over in their taloned fingers.

Accentuated with gentle warbles, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean whispers, "I have never been to a fulcrux."

Almost scolding, you murmur to Kaliolean, "Just be polite and reverent."

A hollow, empty voice fills the fulcrux with its whispering tones, "Then I welcome you to Mine, little one."

You have emoted: Takhre's oil-slick feathers floof up as the voice rings out in the Fulcrux, the trill looking perhaps ridiculously poofy as they look around in shock.

Kaliolean gasps slightly, taken aback by the sudden intonation. "Lord Nocht." they say respectfully, their head bowing slightly to send the veil of iridescent colors over his features momentarily. "I bid you are good waking. How are You?"

You have emoted: Takhre smoothes down their arms and chest, bowing their head respectfully in tandem with Kaliolean.

Dim, alien stars dance in the magicked image that surrounds the fulcrux, tracing strange orbits through the pitch black night as the voice whispers, "Well enough.... Especially to see new blood within Our forest. What brings you to My fulcrux?"

Their eyes tracking the orbit of alien stars, you say, "I cannot speak for Disciple Kaliolean, but my Mentor has often spoken of Your knowledge and wisdom. I wished to ask for advice on behavior that constantly escapes me, but I know I must improve to better serve the Wyrd."

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

You tilt your head curiously at Kaliolean.

Kaliolean smiles softly towards you a moment, then turns back towards the fulcrux itself. "Call it curiosity, if You will. I am still learning a great deal, and someone mentioned Your fulcrux. Since I'd not been before, I felt it wise to at least experience the situation that is...this. Yes."

You think to yourself: It is unsettling when they smile at me. How do their lips do that? Ugh.

---> Look me

They are a feathered trill, standing at a proud 5'5, their ebony feathers gleaming with a sleek iridescence. Pomegranate eyes peer out beneath a fringe of smaller, softer feathers, framed by their round, youthful face. Their lips are thin and dark, tinted purple by wyrden berries. Slender shoulders are weighed down by their large wingspan, the appendages tucked neatly at their back when not in use. Their hands are tipped with long, sharpened talons, dutifully attended to in order to maintain a deadly edge. Their chest is bare, covered in a soft coat of shiny feathers that smooth into a rounded form. Wiry and thin, they hold an subtle, constant tension in their limbs that implies great speed at a moment's notice.
They are wearing:
a pair of black trousers bearing silver stars
a preserved miniature rose ring
a willow-frond ring
a thin, dusky dress shirt with slit sleeves tied with the sleeves around their waist
a petrified wooden ring of dark idols
an amaranthine night lotus tucked behind an ear tuft
a silver torc

---> look Kaliolean

They are rather small, standing at a paltry five feet with a light grey complexion interspersed with lavender hues. Their demeanor is brooding and inquisitive, with a set of unnaturally large, seemingly unblinking vermilion eyes marked by vertically beaded pupils, constantly probing their surroundings as they gleam with curiosity and great intent. They are a feathered trill wyrden demigod, with a mane of headfeathers that joins their wings in a beautiful display of iridescent purples, blues, and greens, cascading with a kaleidoscope of color. These same feathers descend from their head, barely grazing their shoulders while gracing their predatorial visage in a gentle veil of shadows. A slender, straight nose rests above thin lips that generally seem to carry a content, if not sardonic, little smile.
They are wearing:
a crackling cobalt ring, glowing gently.
crowfeather bracers
a pouch of clouded sky silk
a dark forestal scabbard, slung low across the small of their back by several braided leather straps.
a suit of pitch-black field plate, custom-fitted to accommodate their wings.

(OOC CLAN): You say, "Oh my god, takhre is slightly taller than kali."


The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "Gasp."
(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "Don't you dare tell them that."
(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "Or do, they wouldn't care but."

(Trasto): Kalliope says, "Honey wake up they cancelled e3."

(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "I didn't know what else to say lol."

(Trasto): You say, "Oh yeah :(."

(OOC CLAN): You say, "It's fine hahaha."
(OOC CLAN): You say, "I think gods are used to being visiting because "ohmygod it's a godmin"."
(OOC CLAN): You say, "At least you have a shirt on."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

"Ah..." the voice intones, crisp air sweeping across the fulcrux with it. "Curiosity is one of My favorite traits of mortalkind. It leads so many to the Wyrd..." The voice falls silent as if waiting for the newly disturbed shower of blackthorn petals to subside before it continues to whisper, "What behaviors do you speak of, little one? What wisdom is it that you seek?"

(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "I have genuinely kinda avoided most godmin. But nocht seems really cool on Discord so I kinda wanna interact :O lol."

You have emoted: Takhre glances askance at Kaliolean and their lips pull thin, expression stoic. "I do not know how to... eh..." They sigh. "The teachings of Mother Night, Great Crow, and the Dark Idols often speak of hiding one's true strength, or bloodthirst. I struggle greatly with this, as most other fate touched seem to be quite unsettled by my presence." Their expression tightens, and their frown borders on disgusted. "I do not know how to smile as others do. Or make myself smaller. But in order to teach others of the beauty and pull of the Wyrd, must I not myself be beautiful and alluring? It vexes me."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

Kaliolean frowns a bit, then opens their mouth as if to speak, but immediately snaps it shut.

"Speak, Kaliolean, if you so wish... What do you think of this young one's dilema?"

You think to yourself: Is not a smile the baring of teeth? The start of a growl? How does one even begin to seem soft?

You have emoted: Takhre's dark eyes flick down to Kaliolean's own, the trill's grimace ever present.

"Beauty isn't about a perfect smile, or symmetrical features. It's a state of being. A weapon, and a tool. It is a skillset, and a sound." Kaliolean states. "The Wyrd flows through you. Naturally. As it should, and that is beauty. The strength you've acquired to feed that bloodthirst, however unquenchable, is beauty. That radiates from you. If they are only worried about what their eyes behold, then perhaps that is their own weakness."

The image above wavers and ripples gently as a cold breeze howls through the fulcrux.

You have emoted: Takhre listens to Kaliolean in contemplation, their gaze unblinking. After a long pause they nod slowly. "I see. But I still feel that those beyond the Wyrd will be weak no matter their opinion of me. Is it not better to weave a more potent snare?" Their talons flick through the space in front of them in a snatching motion, the speed of the motion seeming almost deadly. "I feel the Wyrd and thereby beauty that runs through the both of us, but it is a matter of displaying it that I struggle to find a medium."

(OOC CLAN): You say, "Did takhre just call u pretty? maybe, don't think about it too hard >:)"
(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, ":3."

Kaliolean sits for a quiet, long moment. "Perhaps I'm biased, but I see no problem in your manner of display." they comment, "It was, in the end, the people who drew my curiosity. Tirah, yourself, Selitos, Esei. What you had drew me here, and what I have now keeps me. A sense of belonging and duty."

You blink.

Silence reigns in the shadows, broken only by the sound of the swaying branches above as the empty voice contemplates both your words. Finally, it speaks coiling around the fulcrux like grasping vines, "What interesting wisdom you seek, little one. To ponder on how to better hide a savage nature. Many, many times it has been the opposite. The gentle wondering how to harden their hearts. Some learned, many failed..."

You tilt your head curiously.
Kaliolean tilts their head and listens intently.

(OOC CLAN): Kaliolean says, "Did we just doe-in-headlights nocht lol."

With blatant confusion, you say, "But they must harden to survive. The Basin will tear one's throat out without hesitation. What fool would wish to be gentle?"

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

In a melodic quaver, you say, "To fail seems ridiculous in that aspect. I thought all were simply better at their illusion."

The faintest flash of amusement creeps into the otherwise hollow voice of the Silent Lord as He whispers, "That is a lesson even many of My Cousins have failed to learn, and They knew the horrors of Our war with the Soulless. Many wish to imagine a gentle world is possible still."

With increasing unease, you say, "I see. Strange."

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

You think to yourself: Wanting to be gentle? It is one thing to hide your fangs, but another foolishness to want to truly be weak.
You think to yourself: Though, the Divine are of course in no way weak... and could squash me in an instant. Boggling that they would still want softness.

The image above wavers and ripples gently as a cold breeze howls through the fulcrux.

Accentuated with gentle warbles, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean says, "A gentle world...I find that a fanciful dream."

Bluntly, you say, "I find it insane. Without basis in reality."
You shudder violently as a chill ripples down your spine.

Accentuated with gentle warbles, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean says, "But, I presume, such is the mindset of many who have lived through wars."

"True, there is value in learning to hide aspects of the Wyrd... of yourself behind a veil like My Most Beloved Night. I am curious to see what conclusions you arrive at, little one..." The whispering ceases as you both speak before answering in turn, "Perhaps that is what it is... Minds broken by the violence, some retreat into what they once knew. When they were last safe..."

You crease your brow in a frown.
You nod your head slowly in understanding.

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

The image above wavers and ripples gently as a cold breeze howls through the fulcrux.

Kaliolean grows slightly stoic, moreso than normal. "It's not their fault, alone. Not everyone can embrace the Wyrd, just like not everyone can accept the Taint, or the Light. It takes a certain breed. In my humble opinion".

"My attention is drawn elsewhere. I will be watching, little ones. Your thoughts and questions have been quite interesting..."

Nocht, the Silent has bestowed His divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 3 months.

You blink.
With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.
In a melodic quaver, you say, "Thank You, Lord Nocht."

Accentuated with gentle warbles, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean says, "I thank and appreciate You, Silent Lord."

You glance askance at Kaliolean.
You nod.

You stand before the wavering image of the night sky, your arms spread wide. In an instant, shadowy tendrils shoot out and wrap around as they forcibly drag you into the image. All fades to black before you are suddenly hurled into a dark cavern.

You tug upon the aether strands around you, searching for one that connects to the Master Ravenwood Tree.
You have recovered equilibrium.

Kaliolean tells you, "Are you alright?"

You tell Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Kaliolean, "I am. And I am pensive."