The Father'd Son (Solo)

[Jennifer Oakley]

The Father'd Son (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q29YR5-t3gg&feature=related)

1972



Set following Songs About Rain (http://althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=20906&page=4&highlight=songs+rain) & Hen Wlad (http://althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=21178), referencing events their-in as a direct continuation. Lexicon shall be noted at the end of the thread.

Jennifer considered many things abhorrent, but she had not as yet considered why. Tales told in the dark had crafted her view of the world, solicited her concious into places of racism and predicament she did not understand. As the legacy of her people had weighed down heavily on her shoulders, and subsequently, on the hide of her Animus, she had finally snapped beneath the responsibility of being.

The journey from the Tomb Glade of the Autumnal Sprite Bracchia had been a tiring, soul rending pilgrimage from uncertainty. As she had arrived back in the heights of the Rootwalker to discuss her successes and failure with the Fae Ancient Oona, everything seemed as if it were a dream, a feint and forgetful lullaby. She had deceived the very Goddess of creation, yet the implications of her actions could not be felt, could not be seen so soon.

She opened her eyes, dragging herself from her meditative state and stared out through the treeman's branches at the distant glow of the sun. The pagoda, where she had mediated on more trivial matters whilst Sei Orlougne took his council not a fortnight ago was more floral now - the spring air had touched it with graceful drafts and purple and yellow flowers blossomed up it's structure. Each one vibrated slightly in time with the great treeman's footsteps, which rang out through the depths of Concordia like thunder.

Soon, she would stand before Oona once more. Unlike their previous encounter, however, she would do so as a free spirit, unchained to fealty and unhurt by long winters of abandonment. In such a short space of time, Jennifer Oakley had cast aside her ordainment and taken to the true nature of all living things.

Vengeance.

She gritted her teeth and pushed herself upright, taking her staff into her shaking fingers as she completed the movement. With defiant strides she made her way along the moss covered boulevard towards the temple, nodding politely and obviliously to the druids as she passed them in reverant silence.

[Jennifer Oakley]

As she came about the twist in the path, she settled her gaze onto the stone-faced guardians standing besides the temple doors. The audience chamber beyond was a serene and dangerous hollow of subtlety woven traps, which stood in stark contrast to the heavy mauls of the satyrs and their golden armour cast in rust and brazen with bronze etchings; an altogether more obvious warning to those who wished the Thayne harm.

The folds of her dress swished elegantly as she passed between them unhindered, as if she were expected. Part of her wondered just what good they would do if a real threat infiltrated the inner echelons of the forest. What if an Ancient found a human form and waltzed into the den of their greatest enemy with a poisoned dagger and a thousand years of enmity to bring to bare? It did not occur to her that it might very well be her hand one day raised in anger at her progenitor.

She fell into darkness halfway along the corridor, and the air faded from the strong and zesty spring breeze to a stagnant odour infested with stale incense and a peaty density that accompanied rotting fungi and leaves in marshland. The light of Oona's chamber illuminated the tip of her nose and her staff, heralding her arrival with little fanfare.

"It has been many days, child. You return, I can but hope, with good news and tidings of joy concerning the boon placed upon you?" The winged regalia of Y'edda had long since ceased being impressive to the summoner, who simply bowed before her mistress and took several cautious steps into the room.

"I have come with news, although I like not to give it in such times."

The decorum of courtly conversation snapped both speakers into a dreary and slumber-some exchange. Whilst Jennifer had many questions, she had to answer many riddles and dance many discordant steps to even be allowed the thought - to ask the questions themselves would require finesse and deadly gambits with an easily wiled and temper-some creature.

"Speak," Oona said coldly, resting her chin on an elongated finger. Two owl-featured attendants, fae of servitude and service fanned their mistress with golden feathers plucked from their own backs as she glared at the inconsequently troublesome woman before her. All the shreds of connection and history between them had gone, forgotten and ignored as fickle as a doe leaving behind it's injured child to the shrill chill of winter, and the wolf's bite.

[Jennifer Oakley]

"I have done as was asked of me, and the creature is dead."

They both smiled, eager to please.

"Then you have done a great disservice to the angered forest, and a mighty boon upon you for your success."

A silence formed between them, whilst Jennifer struggled to find the words to wield against the Thayne. She swooned and swaggered under the perfume of the chamber, and struggled to stay crystal clear beneath the wave of serenity oozing from the Thayne in heated circles and blasts of kindness.

"I would ask of you for a sense of purpose in this act, why, when, how - simple questions to satisfy a simple mind?"

"You are to know no more than you do already, for to explain is to burden you with trifles you are not to be concerned with."

Jennifer frowned.

"I know more, if you allow me the comeuppance, than you should think."

"You are a summoner, one bound to the woods through service, not nature. How can you know of the Ancient Ways?"

It did not occur to Jennifer that Oona's change was part and parcel of the turning of the seasons. Summer had faded to spring in the time she had been absent, and like Dumlaught and Bracchia, Oona too had many forms and many faces. Which face is this? She wondered.

"I am an Ancient, although one many decades younger than even the simplest of servants."

The Thayne leant forwards in her throne, and the vines which formed it wove and moulded to her movements to support her. Of all the wooden artefacts, carvings and knotted stools in the court room, the throne was the only part that still had life in it. Jennifer had discovered the room's purpose at long last, and smiled vivaciously with amusement at the irony.

They were standing in the Rootwalker's Heart, and the throne was the muscle that kept the creature, the forest and the spirit of her people alive. How fitting a tyrant to be seated upon the will of her subjects?

"You are not!" The Thayne said, after a moment of scrutiny, she keened her eyes and furrowed her brow as if to peel away Jennifer's soul.

"My dearest Queen, my loyal tyrant, I am as Ancient as you - as wise, and infinitely more angered. Do you not recognise yourself?"

[Jennifer Oakley]

The speed with which the Thayne moved blurred Jennifer's senses. With a snap of her bejewelled hand, she commanded the veins of the throne to surge forwards and ensnare the petulant child without mercy. The tight, horned strands of the heart pulled her forwards, and straining against her bonds, she found herself an inch from her mistresses' face.

"Outrage! You should be torn apart and scattered to the seeds of tomorrow for such insolence!"

"But -" Jennifer spluttered beneath the tense bindings, and choked as the lashes of the thorns brokered her neck and spine. "Look! I have your heart, I have - your mind," a bright light glimmered beneath the cage of green that wrapped around her chest.

"I am your daughter!"

Y'edda snapped her fingers, and the vines let her go, their possession of intellect rescinded and returned to simple duties of support. They whipped back beneath her, and settled still.

Silence reigned once more, and finally, Y'edda saw the same spark in Jennifer as she did in her own body. Memories came flooding back of a satyr, bound in love and adoration and guilty transgressions.

"You...there is no...way."

"I am her!" Jennifer snapped, picking herself up from the floor in distress. Her eyes flooded with tears and her tongue whipped with anger. "You gave your heart to the beast of the woods and I am the result!"

The tension in the air come full circle and washed over Jennifer. Bright paeans of melody ruptured from her mouth and she arced backwards as if hit by a bolt loosed from a hunter's bow. The light that had given her hope and the strength to shatter the decorum of diplomacy burst from her chest and bounced around the chamber like a will-o'-wisp, setting fire to the council with metaphorical flames of colour.

It landed besides the summoner, and from the melee, Faustus, the Winter King emerged with all the fury of a lover scorned and a father'd son.

[Jennifer Oakley]

The memory came flooding back to Y'edda like the melt waters of the glacial peaks of Salvar. Little streams formed at first, before the pictures in her mind surged and ruptured their own denied banks and overwhelmed her. Not three weeks ago, she had been in her Summer form, resplendent, decadent, ignorant and hateful. As Spring, and ultimately Winter had turned the Thayne's heart from the future and to the past, the moment of weakness in which she had sired a lover and given birth to a child was reborn.

Faustus had once been hers, they had ruled for three summers and a handful of winters in a merry, twisted bliss. How could she have forgotten, how could she have cast the feelings away? The satyr's fur was whiter, almost golden in colour than the first time they had met, and his horns more gnarled and curved than she remembered, but beneath the braying mettle and the unsheathing of The Blade of Aeons, it was unmistakably him.

When the faun tempered his anger, and realised that he had been summoned to talk, not to kill, he returned the elven blade to it's sheath and tentatively nuzzled Jennifer's neck with a caressing, caring nose. The dampness sent tingles down her spine, and she returned the favour with a ruffle to the creature's neck. It was a loving, fatherly display, and it had taken them too long to realise the irony of their meeting in the forest many years ago - the irony of her having to earn his trust and power, when he would have freely given it when Winter returned.

"My own duality fails me, my own sorrow kills me, my own children are lost to me," Y'edda's voice turned dark and sour, and she slumped back into her throne, lost to the trappings of mortality for the first time in millennia.

[Jennifer Oakley]

"It has been too long, Cryle*."

Jennifer pricked her ears at the mention of the name. It was familiar to her, but lost to ignorance. She realised that Oona, perhaps once, had spoken in simple terms to others, without the pretence of godhood.

"It has indeed, although I am unsure how to respond."

"Do as you wish, I am bereft for words."

Jennifer smiled. Cryle, it had been her name for her pets ever since she was a little girl. She had been an orphan when she had arrived in the temple conclaves of her people, and the name had been her only memory of her family and childhood. She giggled childishly for a second, before suppressing the desire to wallow in her own fortune.

"I am an Ancient, Mother Oona. I am a rightful heir to the knowledge of the War - I wish to know, I long to know, I should know of these things. They are my history, my talent, my burden to bear as much as they are yours!" She spoke earnestly and without malice.

Faustus nodded gruffly, and stood forwards, careful not to tempt fate and bring down the wrath of the Owl Guardians. They watched them both with scorn and deep seated malice, as if their mistress were injured or hurt purposefully.

"If you are truly awakened, and Y'edda is buried in your mind, you should tell your daughter - our child, the secrets of the destiny she is bound to - give her the release she deserves and the answers to the questions she is asking. We cannot hide it from her, or she will only continue to betray you."


* Cryle - Child

[Jennifer Oakley]

"Father!" Jennifer snapped, realising it was too late to stay his tongue but falling for clichés all the same.

"Do not worry, Jennifer, I know you did not kill her."

Eyebrows raised on every face. The tenseness in the chamber faded, as silently and naturally as the sunlight turned to dusk in the far away realm of the forest outside.

"Regardless of my nature, or what season it is and which face of many rears it's ugly head, I can sense all the beings of the forest that have been born under my providence. She rests in you, in spirit, bound to the same tenement as Faustus and she will be a strong Animus in the years to come."

"You could forgive my lies?"

"I need forgive nothing, Jennifer. I will not remember you before long, nor will I recall the times I spent with your father, as the dominance of summer is too strong to override. I shall govern the forests and be indignant to my champions as ever, people will continue to fear my temper, my own servants loathe me enough as it is," she waved her delicate hands to the Owls either side of her.

"What happened to us, Oona?" Her father's words harrowed her, but at the same time, she was glad that her own memories and doubts had finally been relieved of their anguish.

"She did, or at least, the glory of our daughter, turned me ever more dutiful to the needs of the forest. I had to protect her, and becoming a deity worthy of the Ancients, a creature strong enough to fight the dissidents in the War. I could not protect you here, so I sent you both away to save you the hurt and pain of an ill perceived threat."

[Jennifer Oakley]

Twenty nine years ago, a reed basket drifted along the Sinke river, a small tributary deep in the heart of Concordia that stretched the length of the forest from the North to the South, and onto the Port of Jadet. In it, wrapped in silk blankets of a jade green and mouse brown clucked a small bundle of joy, called Suilthen Nuada Cylde. In common tongue, it meant 'Daughter of the Gods,' a poignant, yet simple name for a child cast away out of desperation.

The Druids of the Nina found the basket near their temples, and took her in as an orphan, her fae skin and aura foreseen as an omen that could not be ignored. They worshipped her as one of their Summoners, powerful priestesses who could command the creatures of the Concordia depths with the strength of their heart and the power of their will. She had grown up as a human, and forgotten the ancestral memories passed to her from her parents in no more than a decade.

Her horns and oaken armour appeared only in times of trouble, and her providence with nature was veiled in the priesthood - her talents and origins part of her cloak and veil, protected from scrutiny by religious reverence. She had encountered her father, a dishevelled and tormented creature in the depths of the temple crypts one day, at the age of twenty one.

He had succumbed to the Ancient Madness, when love was given and taken. All Fae creatures possessed two souls, one angry and tormented, the essence of summer or winter personified, depending on the flower, beast or terrain they had come to embody. At the turn of the season, all the pent up emotion of summer rang out and the Ancient stampeded through the forest in The Wild Hunt. In the depths of winter, as the first sprinkling of snow landed on the diamond shaped leaves of the dense forest, the Ancients sat by blazing fires of magical flame and revelled in stories of old and relationships debauch and gaudy.

When Oona forgot him, he fell into Winter and the cycle of sorrow that came with it, and his fur faded from gold to brown and his horns rotted and his blade dulled. He forgot his own name, his own face, his own purpose. Jennifer had struck a bargain with his feverish ramblings, drove her staff into his chest and drained his soul into her own in the Ritual of Binding with such ease the Priests of the Nina had proclaimed her a High Priestess there and then - but she was fortunate, and she was blinded by her own idolisation of nature to see that it been nothing more than coincidence.

Now she saw the truth, and forgave herself all the anger in her life.

[Jennifer Oakley]

They stood in silence for what seemed like forever, each buried in their own thoughts and speeches. Faustus's golden mane, Oona's shimmering feathers and her sparkling dress all illuminated a brief reunion, that would shine for as long as a dying star before peeling out into nothingness once more. When at last the silence broke, they all sighed in relief and eased their tense backs and muscles with a slouch.

"I forgive you for being dutiful, and for hurting the few to save the many."

"My love for you is too strong to hate," Faustus added, shaking his head at his own troubles.

The throne fluctuated and roiled, and the Thayne smiled at her lover and daughter. "I am sorry that this cannot be a longer, more pleasant discussion. Whilst my memories have returned, and I pray I can talk longer soon, I have matters to attend to - my hero is amongst the people, my omens foul, my deeds must continue. Know that my heart will always be with you, Jennifer, and that my heart and it's light will shine no matter the season." She bowed humbly, the first time a Thayne measured herself to human kindness and standards.

"Begone, before I cast you out for that devilish smile once more," one might almost have forgiven themselves for painstakingly thinking Y'edda winked at Faustus, before waving them away indignantly.

Jennifer and her father turned on their heels and walked slowly out of the chamber, briefly fearing the darkness before emerging out into the cool and gentle evening air; back amongst the people that scorned and loathed them, loved and adored them, feared and respected them. For a long while, they stood on the end of the platform and looked down at the ground through the branches as it passed under the feet of the Rootwalker, trampled underfoot yet restored by his aura of radiance.

They shared thoughts through the bond that chained them together in soul and heart, and collected their last memories of their happier times before burning them to the echoes of time. Like summer into spring, spring into autumn, autumn to winter, they let their splendour fade and their meaning fall away until such a time came for them to be rekindled, for them to be born anew and give them strength once more.

[Jennifer Oakley]

"Do you think we will remember this meeting, when the sun rises on the morrow?" Jennifer asked, finally plucking up the courage to break the ambling and awkward silence between them. She pushed emotion into her words, hoping her father would understand the truth in her question. She was asking if he would remember her when they both transformed.

"We are bound to the ways of the Fae, as much as Oona. Who can tell what will remain of us, when we fall into Summer's splendour my daughter? Perhaps we will remain as effervescent and proud as ever, or perhaps, just perhaps, we will both become more human in turn."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, no more appeased and left with a thousand other questions. She had come to understand the nature of living, and knew that she too would transform as the seasons did. She did not know, however, what she would become, and if she would become more human, or more fae, throwing her heritage to the stars in a genetic folly.

"I guess we should embrace it."

"Yes, we should, now that I remember my name, who I am, where we are going, and who, most importantly, you are...whatever new shape becomes us, we are as complete as ever."

Jennifer took a long draught of nature's air and loosened the muscles in her shoulders. She already felt the deep seated energies in her fade, as if her immortal self were falling from her like bark from a dying tree. It was a fickle, twisted world, that of the forest, but she did not have the strength to fight it anymore. She did not possess the modicum of bravado required to maintain face amidst the endless menagerie of betrayal and regret, of death and rebirth.

Whatever she was to become in the morning, in the sunlight's caress, she would take to it like a duck to water, like a father'd son to his idol's arms...

She would be herself, and not afraid of her own nature.

Of her own being.

Of the forest and the world and the woe.

"Come," she said, briskly turning on a heel and walking from the platform without so much as a hint of warning. Faustus looked into the branches of the Rootwalker with keen interest as she left, and smiled meekly at the pink butterfly which twitched its wings on a branch overhead. An old sign from the ancient days reared it's head, and the faun understood.

Oona's Blessing touched him, and in turn, touched Jennifer. The Cycle turned and the Wheel kept rolling through time eternal.




The Sister of Seasons: Jennifer has become aware of her true self, her identity, and the nature of the Fae beings of the world. At each level up, each of her summons, as well as her, will fluctuate between forms. Effectively, this locks each into a set profile, not changeable until the next level. This will switch Jennifer from her present fae form into fully human, with appropriate shift in power from magic to skill, Faustus to his more satyr form with less bestial fighting, and Quickalli into the great beast form where he looses his healing and gains strength. This will be chronicled in her update, and run past ROG - the development of her self is to be used to support it at the time.

[Taskmienster]

The Father’d Son :: Full on both, and I’ll try and give as much as I can for both. Just hit me up with questions. As requested, you wanted a judge that had read the other two threads in order to judge the continuation… I went out of my way (for you :p) and actually read the two that you had linked in order to better understand what was going on with this one. Take that. :)



Continuity 6

:: Despite the continuation of other threads, a little bit of background leading up to this as it’s a new thread would be helpful. However, your characters background in post 8 was helpful.

Setting 5

:: Even though this is a continuation of two other threads, it is still necessary to allow the reader to re-immerse themselves in the setting. I gathered a little here and there, in regards to the scents and such that were around you, but the overall setting was for the most part absent.

Pacing 6

:: You tend to write paragraphs that are short, but only created by two or three really long sentences. Sometimes its fine, but at others the sentence could be split into different parts that convey different subjects and ideas. Be careful not to overuse a complex sentence when a more simplistic sentence (yet still complex) could be used in its place.


“Two owl-featured attendants, fae of servitude and service fanned their mistress with golden feathers plucked from their own backs as she glared at the inconsequently troublesome woman before her.” :: An example of what I said above. This sentence is really long, and could have been split easily enough. Also, there is a comma missing. There should be a comma after “service” and you could split this with a period after “their own backs” and started a new sentence about her glaring. The two sentences have different ideas being portrayed, and as such work much better split apart.

Dialogue 8

:: A small “she said” or “the summoner said” would help a lot with clarification of who’s speaking now and then. Otherwise, I see lines of text and have to guess or go back and figure out who’s saying what and in what context it is being said.

Action 7

Persona 9

Technique 7


“The audience chamber beyond was a serene and dangerous hollow of subtlety woven traps,” :: I’m not sure what this is really referring to, or what it means.

Mechanics 8


“The tight, horned strands of the heart pulled her forwards,” :: I think you meant “thorned” not “horned” but not sure… because I’m unsure how a vine has horns, and ‘thorned’ isn’t a word. Lol


“The tension in the air come full circle and washed over Jennifer.” :: ‘came’, not ‘come’

Clarity 6

:: The second paragraph of the second post; you have they and their multiple times. I assume you are referring to the guards, but since it’s a new paragraph the subject of the pronouns should be reestablished for the reader, or the first two paragraphs should be one… as the second is a continuation of the first in subject and more a continuation of a similar thought than a completely new one that needs a new paragraph.

Wild Card 7

Score: 69

Rewards:
Jennifer :: 700 exp | 135 gold
((Spoil rewarded.))

Notes

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Jennifer is now level 1!