Catori Thirle | Stand-In Chief | Mentions:

Koa (Dir.) Ivan, Elders (Indir.)

Catori’s eyes lit up at the reply, peering from over the lip of her cup, her grin persisted. Only briefly vanishing from her lips as she swiftly swallowed the remaining liquid in her glass. That would be all for tonight, she had business to handle tonight and tomorrow. Any more indulgent activities would mean her mind would not be in the right space to perform adequately. She would not let the Elders down in her current role, she would ensure that Ivan would be a strong leader. Her arm swung out to place the empty cup down on the table before she returned her grinning face to Koa’s. She allowed him to lead them, she had done enough leading others recently. She never enforced her warriors to change how they addressed her, it was natural, after all she was never to take over as chief. Her current role was simply to ensure the tribe survived to the time that Ivan was eligible to take over.

The initiation of the dual dance was not too surprising. Many of the tribe’s traditional dances were performed in pairs or groups, it was more enjoyable that way and much prettier to watch from the sidelines. Catori’s hands slipped up to take their positions at his shoulders, certain not to wander too close to his neck. They did not remain there long, the music was picking up rather quickly. Who had taken over the tempo? Her eyes tried to catch a glimpse of the culprit but during her spinning flings, she could not make them out clearly. Catori had little paint on her body, simply the remnants from painting Syllivanna. A few brushes of blue here and there, nothing intentional. Apart from a small strike of silver under her collarbone, courtesy of Syllivanna returning the painting gesture. The light of the fire caught on the metallic element and gave a small flash with each twirl that Koa sent her into.

Although they were not far apart in age, Catori beating him there ever so slightly, she never grew to the size that he managed to attain. With her mother being rather tall, many expected her to follow in that genetic lane, alas she remained shorter than the rest of her cohort. She had watched Koa grow into a fine warrior, eventually taking over as lieutenant and enriching his skills further. The pair had been on fine terms on the announcement of her new role when she was younger, other older warriors had been a little ticked off that she had been chosen. Some of those still voiced that opinion today.

Her own lungs began to strive for air a little harder, the tempo was almost too quick for them to catch up with. “I think,” She paused as she was flung away, continuing once she returned close to him. “Your cardio needs some work.” Catori teased, her face pulled into a bright smile, her canines poking out.

The woman almost staggered over as the music came to an abrupt stop, her foot scuffling the flattened earth as she flicked back to Koa for the last time. Managing to maintain her balance by tightening her grip on Koa’s bicep, almost a little too tight. She hoped that it didn't hurt him. Her dark eyes snapped towards the slightly elevated rock that the Elders were situated on. Her pupils narrowed significantly, ears ever so slightly tilted back. She should have anticipated that, the stars were high, it was time for formalities. Catori’s attention was brought back to Koa as he spoke, watching as he smeared some of the paint on his face, the act drawing a small laugh from her. “You’re welcome.” She trailed after him to the table. “But seriously, we need to work on that cardio.” Catori poked a slender finger into his arm with the teasing remark. In reality, she was also a little out of breath.

Once at the table, she remained by his side, keeping her spine straight as she turned her eyes to the Elders. Carefully listening to them, she knew they would decide how she would train Ivan tonight, what they had decided on she was unsure. Tentatively, she waited. Then they began with something new, something she had not heard of yet. She took a small inhale, sharp and quick. Unsurprisingly cryptic. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of the words. Marked…what marked. A soft breeze flicked her hair from her face, her head tilting slightly as she tried to think. Had the Elders interpreted this prophecy? She must inquire later as to how she should approach this. They declared a challenge, a test of their abilities. Catori hoped that whatever it was would not bring more harm to the tribe and especially the apprentices, if they were the ones that must face this challenge, she prayed to their ancestors that they were strong enough to persevere.

Her attention was drawn carefully from the Elder’s by Koa, she shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on the Elders as she spoke. “I am unsure.” Catori’s words were soft, almost whispered to the male beside her, not desiring to interrupt the speakers. However, when the moment she had been waiting for came, she had little time to react to the progression of her role. Koa choked beside her, rather dramatically. Her pupils slammed shut into slits and her head whipped around to stare at him, catching the end of the liquid flying from his mouth. Thankful that he had managed to not direct it to splash over her in his surprise. Admittedly, she had expected a senior warrior to be appointed temporarily to lieutenant so that Ivan may have an experienced mentor as well as herself and the Elders. Yet, the Elders surprised her again. She was to be the sole mentor outside of the three women. That thought was a little terrifying. Her blood pumped harsh in her ears, the responsibility was massive. Behemoth even. Anxiety pricked at her skin, for the briefest moment she thought she would begin to hyperventilate. But that was when Koa had choked, breaking her out of her stupor.

Catori watched as Koa fought to get control of his lungs again, coughing into a cloth from the table. A smile was brought to her lips instead of the shiver of panic, a small laugh coming from her throat. “That was quite a reaction, Koa. I think the whole tribe would have heard that.” She grinned wider, using the opportunity to laugh and tease to distract her from the underlying dread she felt at the announcement.

As Aelion stood slightly apart from the crowd, he noticed the way the masses shifted, bodies parting like water as two familiar figures wove their way toward him. Baiyen and Merrick moved with a mix of ease and determination, Merrick pulling Baiyen along with his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. It was a sight Aelion had grown used to, the boldness of Merrick balanced by Baiyen’s quieter presence.

He caught their approach in his peripheral vision, but didn't immediately move. When they reached him, Merrick slung an arm casually around Aelion’s shoulders. Aelion tensed for a moment, feeling the weight of his friend's gesture before he let himself relax. The contact was grounding in a way, something familiar in the chaos of the evening, though Aelion’s posture remained rigid. A half-smile ghosted over his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It’s been... something," he said, his voice even and controlled. He wasn’t ready to dive into the thoughts swirling in his head—the prophecy, Sarolta, the trials, and everything that lay ahead.

Turning toward Baiyen, Aelion gave him a nod in greeting. "You made it through the crowd," he remarked, his tone just as steady as before. "Night’s only getting more crowded as it goes on." His eyes flickered between Merrick and Baiyen, catching the quiet tension in Baiyen’s gaze, something that mirrored the unease he was feeling himself. "And you?" he asked, his voice carrying a bit more weight now. "How’s the night treating both of you?"

He let his gaze linger on Baiyen a moment longer, reading the unease that reflected his own. "How do we feel about the trials?" The question hung in the air, but before anyone could answer, the music that had been thrumming in the background abruptly halted.

The elders were speaking.

Aelion’s attention snapped toward them, his breath catching slightly as Valae began to speak, her voice weaving through the crowd like an unsettling wind. His eyes drifted to his grandmother, Ula, who stood beside Valae with an expression as impenetrable as ever. The words of the prophecy sent a chill down Aelion's spine, and he found himself gripping the fabric of his shirt a little tighter. He had heard the elders speak in riddles before, but this one felt different. It felt personal—like the trials weren’t just about proving their worth, but about facing something far darker, something none of them were prepared for.

At the mention of the shaman, Aelion’s gaze instinctively shot toward Elariel, his uncle, who looked visibly upset. His eyes followed Elariel’s stare, landing on Althaea, his aunt. He knew how much Althaea coveted the title of shaman. Hearing Ravae offered the position struck a chord with Aelion. He could feel the tension radiating from his family, the mere sight of it giving him unease.

As if the night wasn't stressful enough already.

Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions:

Alvaerelle (Dir.) Ivan, Akith’ki, Sarolta, Catori, Elders (Indir.)

Cyrus kept his form still, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he had not turned into a statue. Pleased with his success in this encounter, he used his fingers that held her jaw lightly to tilt her head back slowly. The music had reached a tempo no one could possibly keep up with, his eyes narrowed in the shadow his body cast over himself and Alvaerelle. Cyrus had seen the poignant kiss plastered onto her hand by Ivan as she came whirling back to his arms. He could do better than that. He had merely used his hands so far and Cyrus had already achieved more affection from the fiery woman than Ivan ever had.

He lowered his head to close the distance between them, their lips barely grazing, a feathering touch. The music halted abruptly. Cyrus’s shoulders tensed under her hold, eyes flicking up for a moment at the interruption.

“It appears we will have to continue this later, Alvaerlle dear.” His voice low, meant only to be heard by her ears. Carefully, he slipped his hand from her jaw, instead using it to lift the woman back to a comfortable standing position. He did not cease contact with her, keeping one hand placed intentionally at the small of her back. A long glance over his shoulder landed his eyes on Ivan as the cryptic voices of elders began to drift around the now almost silent clearing. The heir was paying them no attention, he had walked away. A small stuttering of a growl drew from his vocal cords, barely making it out between his lips, reverberating inside his throat instead.

The prophecy meant little to the man, he held no faith in their ancestors. To him, they knew nothing about how to organise this tribe. They had allowed the three most important members to all die within a relatively short period of time. Now they had some scrawny young woman playing leader. The thought made his jaw clench, the hand of Alvaerelle’s back shifting ever so slightly. He kept his lips sealed, he did not want to ruin whatever progress he had made, but the simmering anger in him was only growing stronger.

At the reveal of Ivan taking Catori’s position, his lips curled back into a snarl. He had no doubt that he would never be considered for the role, but there were far better options. Even objectively. Outside of his opinions of the softness of the other warriors, any of the older warriors would have been the superior choice. Elariel in particular. Cyrus dared a glance towards his old friend, he could feel the pang of sadness from the dark-haired man emitting like waves, Cyrus did not blame him.

Completely caught up in the revelation that Ivan would not only be lieutenant but that he would be trained and guided by the incompetency of Catori and the elders, Cyrus’s lips remained drawn back in distaste as he stared towards the speakers. The only benefit he could ascertain was that Ivan would be easier to knock off of his podium, bringing up his lack of skills, his inexperience. That could very well lead to a change of leadership, be it himself or his son. Gods, even Sarolta, would be better than that poor excuse of an heir.

It was when Ravae’s name was spoken that Cyrus could not help himself any longer. A frustrated snarl ripped from his throat, his head snapped sideways, hand lifting from the woman beside him. He walked a few paces away before rounding to walk back towards Alvaerelle once more, his head shaking, a growl underlying his voice.

“Her? Do they know nothing?” He spat, not directing his words at anyone in particular as he began to circle Alvaerelle. “I have never seen that woman do anything that would even suggest she could take over her role.” His eyes began to prickle with a sensation he was certainly not fond of, to disturb it from coming to fruition, Cyrus whipped his head around again. Aiming his glaring amber eyes up towards the elders, none of them knew what they were doing. The very suggestion that someone like Ravae could replace his love was an insult, the fact they had proclaimed it a message from the ancestors was an outright challenge.