SPECIAL EVENT: The Flower Oracle

[polymods]

✖ Meet The Oracle

A low thrumming sound builds in the background noise of the raised village, starting so softly that it would be easy to mistake it for the ever present hummingbirds. It keeps building slowly, somehow managing to be both a sound and to bypass the ear as it hums in the bones. The local Temple Guardians bump heads and brush against each other, quietly affirming their bond as they divide their duties: one staying with the local Temple and the other winding through the paths of the village down to the bud of the Flower Oracle in its place of honor in the city center.

The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.

The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.

Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals.

Notes:
Characters who wish to approach the oracle need to respond to the thread titled ‘Meet the Oracle’. After they get their response, they can post a separate reaction thread to play out some of the consequences of the event.

Responses to the Oracle Thread should include: a short description of their IC reaction/actions, a description of what they bring for a sacrifice, and their question for the ancient. Villagers will have let them know that traditional options include: fish, flowers, art, blood, secrets, or memories. Characters/players may come up with their own sacrifices. Please include a note if the character helped decorate the local temple this month.

WARNING: Contacting the Oracle may result in negative IC results for characters, and there is a degree of randomness in how the mods assign results.

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

Harrowhark Nonagesimus

[necrosaint]

It is not that Harrowhark has not performed similar rituals before. She has. She has often postulated herself before the Anastasian monument, and once or twice to the Locked Tomb herself -- though if she received any answers, it was only to

She has not been brave enough to decorate the Temple, but she has decorated herself all month with a change in her face paint from black and white and stark lines, to white backgrounds with vibrant colors and flower patterns. She has been fitting in her own way, and has maaaaaybe been growing to like the island's insistence on her wearing flowing maxi dresses a little bit. Those are comfortable. The bold pink was not her thing, but she has settled for the purple-blue-white blend that matches her face paint and compromised. No further complaints have been made.

Harrow drops into a kneeling position, every inch of her radiating Religious Propriety, and painted in color and flower wherever skin is visible (her face, and her upper shoulders). Her anticipation was eager, curious as she was about her question but also, also about her simply gaining this audience. As she kneels, she leaves a bone. It is a human frontal bone she has grown from shards of her own bones, carefully extracted from one of her hands: a crucial, important bone, made of her own cells and her own blood and her own necromancy, working her to nosebleeds and eye bleeds and fatigue before she slept it all off. Now she is tired but alive in the presence of the Oracle.

"Will I -- will we," Harrow thinks of Gideon, and thinks of people she has met here, and shows that she has, indeed, learned she has to include at the very least her cavalier in things and that it's okay to lean on people for support really, "be able to figure the secrets of Lyctorhood while amongst the islands?"

Technically, they had a crookedly perfect Lyctorhood between herself and Gideon, they just had to figure out how it worked.

[polymods]

The faith of the Islanders is relatively simple. They live on an island where the divine comes and has conversations and metes out its will in a regular pattern that is predictable and known. Even the existance of the Travelers themselves is proof of their god's power. They come, they ask, they are granted what the Ancient deems fit, and the Oracle plays her role. Most of the Travelers are either forsaken by their faith or never had one to begin with or are so wrapped up in it that the existance of the Ancient leaves them shaken or angry. Indifference is not uncommon. The faith of Harrow feels different.

When Harrow offers her sacrifice, the crystal tendrils of the Flower Oracle reach out to take the bone, and when they come in contact the structure disappears. To be clear: it is not absorbed or consumed or used to decorate the Oracle. The bone structure disappears, and there is a brief moment of surprise in the soft features of the Oracle that is erased by the darkening of her eyes that means she has become a conduit to the Ancient.

"The Isles will give you time to grow," answers the Oracle, her rustling leave voice infused with a stronger presence, "to discover what you need most. The tools will need to be uncovered but can be found."

As intense as Her attention had been, the Ancient's presence evaporates quickly, leaving the Oracle and Harrow with evidence that acts of genuine faith* have impact.


*(Mod note - anybody reading this who ends up with a character who genuinely prays/tries to commune with the Ancient, remember to poke a mod. Sometimes stuff happens.)