#Brightquill Clan

[goaprose]

.27: Remembrance | SG SW 7.2016

27th: How does your character define family?

"Now, what do you remember me telling you about your great aunt Relynni?"

"Ummmm... She liked birds?"

A chuckle. "No, sweetling. Normally that guess might work with us, but try again."

"Ooh! She was a jeweler!" Dalchirya chirped, picking up a several small glass beads made to looks like precious stones and tiny rings, holding them out in a chubby little palm. The table was covered with silken ribbon and golden cords; beads, feathers, and parchment scraps. An arts and crafts explosion, riddled with actual magic and a quiet sense of ritual.

"Exactly. Go ahead and add that to the ribbon for hers. Aen, how you doing, son?" Iiloridan peered across the work desk, where his smallest son was frowning over a candle, carefully slipping a piece of parchment under the jingling, decorated ribbon around the wax pillar before setting it aside.

"Good job. What name do you have next, kiddo?"

A'enlyndr frowned at his next parchment piece, squinting over the looping calligraphy of his uncle's handwriting. " Uh. Uncle Saaqyn?" The five year old's stare was more questioning than confident, and Iiloridan nodded after a quick glance.

"Yep. And what did he- ah, there you go. Good job!" Iiloridan praised the boy, who had already reached for a little charm of a bird of prey, threading it onto a new ribbon for his falconer cousin. Iiloridan fiddled with his own parchment aimlessly for a moment, displaying the name for his only nephew; the priest glanced around at his own happy, healthy children. The boy had never had the chance to reach even a full year of age.

"...Iirinar? Son?"

"I got 'em, Ann'da," the soft-spoken boy replied, gently adding another decorated candle to his crate, already filled with over a dozen be-ribboned wax pillars. His eldest son positively glowed when he received a pleased nod at his work, before Iiloridan glanced around, seeking his eldest.

"Bella?"

"Loading mine up now," Bella replied, the tough little girl proudly lifting the heavy crate and taking it out to their carriage.

By dusk, they had several crates worth of candles. The nearest 'gravesite' is just at the end of the road, but Brightquill didn't bury their dead. Ashes from funeral pyres are given back to the sun and sky. But a few nights a year, honoring their memory earned just a glimpse in return.

"Here, let Kaly put Aruenna's candle up at the front-

"Why does Grand Minna Aruenna have the same name as your sister, Ann'da?" Chirya asked, oblivious to her father's slight flinch.

"Well because my minn'da named my sister after her, of course."

"Wasn't it confusing?"

Iiloridan chuckled, palm patting red curls. "No, sweetheart. We knew who was who. And, we usually just called my sister Ruen, for short. Now let's finish getting these set up- it's almost sundown." Young faces nodded, and the small family of six slowly laid out over one hundred candles for their lost kin. The semicircle of candles completely filled the area around the memorial site; Kalyanar laid a bouquet of flowers from their own glass gardens to rest at the head of the display.

"Now, doesn't that look nice?"

"That's a lot of candles, Ann'da!" "How we gonna light them all?" the twins chirped.

"Well...Kalyanar?" Iiloridan glanced toward his cousin, offering him the honors. The warlock regretfully shook his head.

"No. I think, in this, your flames are more appropriate." Iiloridan could only nod in agreement.

Welding the Light with the intent of igniting holy flames was not his usual method of operation, but the task was simple enough. Focusing on each wick, the priest raised a brief burst of holy flame over each candle, lighting over one hundred little memorials all at once. The children 'oohed' appreciatively, several pairs of little hands clutching at his robes.

Iiloridan frowned when his cast wasn't perfectly done - only a handful remained unlit, though one sputtered before fading to a whisp of smoke - but setting the kids to the task of the unlit candles with their already burning sparklers set them all to rights quickly enough. Iiloridan carefully avoided looked for any name on the candle that sputtered out.

Once they were all lit, an air of calm expectancy began to build. Even the fidgeting, hyperactive kids stilled as the peaceful glow of the candles illuminated the area. The luminance seemed to brighten beyond what was natural as the sun set on the horizon. The glow around the wicks seemed to sink down into the candles, waxy columns glowing unnaturally bright from within. The children let out nervous little squeals.

Whether the music was from a music box Kalyanar had brought along- or something else, it was hard to say. But it built up so quietly that when they realized it was there, none of them could tell where it came from. Motes of light bloomed into being in the trees, stringing their way along like party lights. The humble dinner laid out on park tables suddenly gained the air of a party feast; like a friendly crowd was just in the other room, their conversation a muted rumble. Sharing a joyful glance that was suspiciously watery, the elders ushered the children to the table to eat.

For a single night, the six of them were not alone.

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Caravan Court #Brightquill Clan #House Brightquill #Iiloridan Sunshard #Kalyanar Brightquill #Bel'alah Sunshard #Iirinar Sunshard #Dalchirya Sunshard #A'enlyndr Sunshard #dia de los muertos #old writing #feels bomb #a good one

[goaprose]

.11: Fledgling | SG SW 7.2016

11th: What's the best gift your character has ever given—or received?

"Well. A fine mess this is, eh Lori?"

Small, scrawny, and still bearing bandages from several severe injuries, ten year old Iiloridan only flinched at the reminder, curling up further in his seat. Sighing, the tall, red-haired quel'dorei took the open spot next to his great nephew, carding a hand through tangled black hair.

"I know you're still put out about coming along with caravan for this trip. But it's for the best, my lad," his uncle said. Iiloridan sighed wordlessly, glancing out the curtained window as the scenery slowly drifted past. The finely-decorated wagon rolled and rattled as they traveled, bouncing the two along with it.

"Well, no point in putting it off, then. Your Minn'da has you working with me now, kiddo. You're gonna be helping me with the coops and the cleaning for the trip- don't look at me like that," the merchant cut in, when Iiloridan's tired expression went indignant.

"That's not fair-!"

"It's not entirely a punishment. You did a dumbass thing, no doubt about it, but you got punished more than enough by the situation itself. You're gonna feel guilty about that poor friend of yours for a long, long time, no matter how it's not directly your fault." Young ears drooped, but the merchant plowed on despite it. "No, it's something we think should help you out. You've always showed interest in our birds before, right?"

"...Yeah," the boy sniffed.

"Here. We picked you out something to get started with." His uncle reached to his side and offered a small crate that Lori hadn't noticed. He gingerly accepted it. Something shifted inside, making scratchy, scrambling sounds against the straw sticking out from the thin slats. Glancing toward his relative only earned Iiloridan a shooing motion. Get on with it, kid.

He opened the box. A small, fledging corvid blinked up at him, cawing in mild alarm. Gaping at it for a long moment as the bird stared right back, Lori turned toward his uncle.

"She's yours, kid. Provided you can manage to bond with her and all that. Taking care of her should teach you some reasonability, and well... making a new friend couldn't hurt."

Carefully setting the box down, Iiloridan lunged forward, clasping his uncle's waist in a hug. The man laughed, patting Lori's head as the boy hid tears in the home-spun fabric of his shirt.

It took a while, but Iiloridan was eventually able to scoop the bird out of it's box without causing it too much further fright. It's feathers were still pockmarked with blood quills, eyes still clear and blue. But it was a clever thing, and took to wobbly perching on outstretched fingers with only a little coaxing.

"...Hey there, sweetheart." For the first time in nearly two weeks, Iiloridan smiled.

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Iiloridan Sunshard #Brightquill Clan #House Brightquill #Lori's corvids #old writing

[goaprose]

.22: Things We Lost | SG SW 7.2016

22nd: Write a fragment of a story that largely or slightly concerns a popular song that tells a good story. You might consider starting by summarizing the song's narrative in prose in your own words, which you may then integrate or borrow from at will. Don't be afraid to snatch up lyrical turns of phrase, either. Consider including a link to the song that inspired you.

"-milling the tiger lily will create a rich pigment for your ink, but I personally find the Northrend flower poor when it comes to cost-effectiveness-"

"-draft hawkstrider feathers are just as good for quills as the 'fancy' hawkstriders, but those noble bastards will buy anything with a bit of fluff thrown on top, so-"

"-experimented with a new box design for the hive. Schematics on pg. 52. The improved ventilation seems to have helped, so the problem with the-"

"-added a mated pair of snowy owls to the Winter Aviary. The pair integrated well, and as of this writing, they are sitting on cluster of eggs. Their shed feathers make for striking quills-"

Iiloridan idly flipped through book after book. Each was hand-penned in a ink-colors and variety of scripts, and not all expertly done at that. Each, hand-bound, written on any number of subjects; quill-making, ink-milling, weaving, bird husbandry, caravan maintenance, stock and market selling. They all met a certain level of quality and standards, of course, but many different hands had been responsible for their making. Some had only written one volume, as per the Brightquill coming-of-age tradition; others had added to their initial contribution over and over again, creating volumes recalling the most minute details of their craft. Iiloridan knew every name. Kalyanar could probably recall everyone by their handwriting and ink type for how he doted over the library, which primarily fell into his care.

The hands that had written the hundreds and hundreds of books had long since burned on the pyres of Silvermoon's ruin. Their caravan trains, their vast stocks, the imports from all across the Eastern Kingdoms- long since turned to dust and ash. The list of things they had left short. Their library, the total sum of everything every Brightquill had ever learned for their crafts- was more precious than gold. It was knowledge and memory and future in one small room. It was no wonder that his cousin refused Esme access, possible family or no. His thoughts drifted back to a little lacquered box he kept hidden in his room, filled with dozens of tiny satchels; what jewelry he had been able to salvage from the dead, before personally adding them to the mass burial pyres. If Kalyanar could recall names by penmanship from their books, Iiloridan could recall faces by a single signature pearl earring or filigreed arm band.

Their family had come from nothing. A small group of four people had created a vast family line and wide-spanning merchant business. In terms of people, manpower, they had all but nothing left. His children would never know the same life.

It could never be the same-

Iiloridan sighed, and shoved the last book firmly back into place. It was never good for him to get this melancholy.

It would never be the same- but dwelling on it never did any good. They would build again. Someday, Iiloridan's children would be grown. And if four people could do it- six could certainly manage it all over again.

Depressing song for depressing writes

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Caravan Court #Brightquill Clan #House Brightquill #Iiloridan Sunshard #Kalyanar Brightquill #old writing

[goaprose]

.20: Mourning | SG SW 7.2016

20th: What cultural, ethnic, religious, academic or other kinds of rites of passage has your character gone through in their life? How meaningful were they to them? To their family? Why?

Their lady was dead, and her second consort with her.

Funerals were few and far between, given their long, blessed Quel'dorei lives. At just over fifteen years of age, this was the first funeral that Iiloridan could ever remember attending. It was not something he wanted to experience again any time soon.

The grief was overwhelming; the Brightquill had lost their founding lady and matriarch, and the entire family was floundering, choking on their grief. The death had been sudden, and completely unexpected; even at over three thousand years old, the matriarch and her husband had not yet been close to natural death. An 'accident' on the trade routes had ended two lives prematurely, and the living were left to cope.

Even with the investigation into the tragedy, the time for grief came first. The entire family had gathered, arriving swiftly from all over the kingdom and even further afield via hastily procured portals, to pay their respects to the dead. Great Minna was wailing, collapsed in the arms of Matriarch Aruenna's first consort. The huge bear of a quel'dorei was eerily silent, tears rolling down his face; the normally boisterous, genial grandfather gone sobre over the loss of his first love. Iiloridan hunched closer to his own mother as the cries hit painful notes, uncaring of the fact that he was 'too old' to be clutching at his mother's skirts. He'd never been as close to either of them as he could have been, but they were a constant in the lives of every member of the family.

The fallen pair were laid out for viewing not side by side, but crown to crown. The arrangement left pointed room for their other two in the married quad that were being left behind, momentos decorating the vacant places. Candles and glowing phoenix willow flowers, whole branches of them, were draped around the fallen pair; the managlow from the pink and purple flowers matched that of the setting sun. They were dressed in their finest, favored garb, gold earrings and traditional jewelry liberally applied to both the man and woman alike. Each Brightquill that arrived left a small token among the dead and their funeral pyre.

Funerals were held near dusk, when the light of the setting sun could guide the dead onward along with it. After rites had been spoke, the bodies would be returned to the sun.

Iiloridan's cousin Kalyanar stepped forward with three others, visibly nervous and composing himself, despite his own grief. The youngest of the four chosen for this final task, the junior blood mage's fire was just as strong as his elders.

The pallbearers let lose mana and flame, engulfing the bodies. With the fire super-heated with magic directed by four blood mages, the near-white flames made swift and disturbingly beautiful work of the remains. The fire swirled up into a tightly-controlled column, directing ash and embers up toward the setting sun. The grief of the mourners turned into something bittersweet.

There was a screaming cry, like that of a hawk; despite the iron control of the flamebearers, the flaming whirlwind surged near the top, where flame and embers reached far into the sky. For one, shining moment, the flames branched out, painting an explosion high in the sky. Ashy flames collesed into the shape of a vague avian body and splayed wings, beating in freedom and triumph. Another screaming cry, and the firebird arched into the sky like a shooting firework, trailing sparks as it slowly turned to ash, chasing the sun over the sea.

unedited

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Caravan Court #Brightquill Clan #House Brightquill #Iiloridan Sunshard #Kalyanar Brightquill #Aruenna Brightquill #old writing

[goaprose]

.12: Longhaul | SG SW 7.2016

12th: What's the story behind your character's name? Who chose it for them, and why that name?

"Well. No easy way to go about this. I'm-"

"Just a minute, dear, I'm in the middle of a-"

"It can wait. I'm pregnant."

"...I'm sorry- What. I almost thought I heard you say you were-"

"Pregnant. Yes. You heard correctly. ...Are you going to clean that up? I thought you weren't supposed to mix mana dust like that?"

"Shit!"

"Oh. Are the flames supposed to be that color? Burning through the tablecloth and all?"

"No, the flames are not supposed to be that color! Fel-hells, Lyn! When? How?"

"I would think the 'how' should be self explanatory. When, about two months ago. Soooo, the Observatory? Or perhaps that lovely field overlooking the mana-wrack? Or maybe-"

"A-ha. Ahem. Right. That day. It...explains a few things."

"You bet your ass it does."

--

"You know, you're going to have to help me pick out a name eventually."

"Not really, no. We don't even know what it will be yet, so I don't really see the point-"

"It's a boy."

"...Ah. Found out already then?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well then. Disappointed you're not getting another daughter, dear?"

"Only if he turns out like you."

"Ouch. You wound me. Through the heart."

"Really? And just yesterday I thought I heard you tell our daughter you had no heart."

"I have to. Telling her 'no' would be more difficult if she thought I still had one- that isn't that funny. Stop that."

"Ha! If you insist. But really, we already have Neiydrus, after your brother; Aruenna, for my dear Minna. How about a little mix of both this time around?"

"Wasn't exactly expecting 'this time around' to be so damn soon- ouch! Dammit, Lyn!"

"Get used to it, sweetheart."

"I- really have little opinion on a name at this time. The fact that we're having another is still a bit of a shock. I mean, I really don't know how I'll have the time to teach another child."

"Teach him? You just need to father the boy, not teach him runes and the arcane."

"Well, of course I will. He'll be a mage like the others- ow, stop pinching me!"

"Not even out of the womb and you're already planning his future?! - V'liyidan Sunshard, sometimes I wonder about you!"

"Lyn? Shalyndr? Where are you going? ...Dammit."

--

"Iiori."

"Hmm? What about your cousin? ...That is your cousin, right? The one with the bees? You have so many cousins I really can't keep them all straight."

"You're a regular riot. No, Iiori. I want to name the baby after them."

"I thought you wanted a 'mix' of our families this time around?"

"Oh, so you were listening."

"Yes. Even when you drive me mad, dalah'surfal."

"I could name him after you, if I wanted him to suffer."

"Ah. Ha. Ha."

"But I did have a thought. 'Iiloridan', after you both."

"'Longhaul'?"

"It's not an exact match for dear Iiori, but it fits. For you both. What do you think?"

"Interesting proverb choice, to take it from. 'Stay the longhaul'. You'd think you were the one planning his future already."

"Don't get cheeky. I'm not deciding anything. It just- seems like something to aspire to. A positive thing. Whatever he choses."

"Hm. I suppose. Still say he's going to be a mage. He's a Sunshard."

"He's half Brightquill. If he wants to be 'nothing but' a quill-maker, you'll just have to deal with it- don't make that face!"

"Urgh. Hear me, my child, don't settle for 'just' quillmaking. You'll be a fine mage someday-"

"Stop trying to corrupt my child through my gut! You arcane-addled wretch!"

"-Also your mother hits like soft, doughy noblewoman! Ha!"

"You take that back! Just wait until I can fit in my armor again, you little mana-sniffing- get back here!"

unedited

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Shalyndr Brightquill #V'liyidan Sunshard #Iiloridan Sunshard #Brightquill Clan #Sunshard Mages #old writing

[goaprose]

.07: Coming-of-age | SG SW 7.2016

7th: What is the most memorable meal in your character's life?

He'd looked forward to this night for his entire life, young though he was. Like most communal meals with the Brightquill clan, their shared dinner was what most would more likely call a party- and the party was loud.

It was one of the things he remembered most, afterward. Not just the food - thick strider stew, his grandfather's recipe; with the strider spit-turned and tender, a different grandmother's doing; his aunt's sweet rolls; roast vegetables stewed with spices, from an elder cousin. But eating said meal among the loud hustle and bustle of life, completely at ease surrounded by people and the glowing lights decorating their trade- That he would remember.

Loud and boisterous and so very lively. Meetings of the entire family were only possible between caravan drives, which meant only a few times a year. Dozens of people running around, sharing stories and bragging rights from their own successful trips; or commiseration over the rare failures. Or in Iiloridan's case, announcing achievements.

Iiloridan gulped down his stew, nerves warring with excitement. He paused in his eating only to pass meaty tidbits to the Quel'dorei raven perched on his shoulder. It plucked daintily at the offerings, golden cere and elongated, decorative crines making the creature stand out nicely, even in the evening dark. He'd bred and hatched the bird himself, and had been helping solidify the breed for several years. Despite his rushing, he only managed to get halfway through his meal before he was motioned forward.

Earrings jangling, Iiloridan stepped in front of the fire and the gathered dozen-dozen family members with a cheery grin, despite his nervousness. One of Iiloridan's great-uncles, matching his dark skin with brilliant, copper hair stepped up beside him with a showman's grace.

"As many of you know, young Lori here has been working with us on our little corvid project for some time now. You all saw the results of such this afternoon at the aviary-" More cheering, several people raising their half-eaten bowls with the hurrah. The bird on Iiloridan's shoulder crowed along with all the fuss. "-It has been a good effort, and his contributions cannot be denied."

Iiloridan's own mother, eldest daughter of the eldest daughter, took her place next to him. As red-haired as his uncle, Shalyndr towered a half a head or more over most of their family members, even outside of her spellbreaker armor for the evening.

"Thanks to this contribution, my son has been able to formally submit his journeyman certification for approval."

Cheering and good-natured jeering broke out. Iiloridan's cousin Kalyanar, perched up high on roof his family's caravan, howled the loudest. His own rite of passage had been a mere three months earlier, and Iiloridan had jeered for him just as loudly. Lori gave his best friend a one-fingered salute in return, and got swatted on the ear by his mother for his trouble, to the further amusement of the crowd.

Lori's favorite uncle took his place next to the fire, where the oldest Brightquill matriarchs circled.

"A full and proper book he's brought us," his eldest grandmother started; despite ice-white hair and heavy crow's-feet, the woman was hale, hearty, and lovely, for being over two thousand years old. She passed around the book Iiloridan had to bind himself, filled with what he'd learned through his years of apprenticeship.

"But is it useful?" Someone in the crowd hooted. The elder women raised their white brows, turning to face the burgeoning young quel'dorei as one. Iiloridan couldn't hide his apprensive flinch under the combined power of their thoughtful stares.

Grinning toothily at the sweating boy, the elder mercifully ended the melodramatic wait.

"We... find it quite worthy to be added to the library."

Though the response was fully expected, the family broke into a cheery cry all at once, and Iiloridan still sagged with relief.

"Lori- Iiloridan - is officially a journeyman and a full Brightquill, despite that awful Sunshard name- ow!"

Iiloridan's uncle staggered as Shalyndr slugged him in the side for the slight against her husband. The crowd howled with laughter once again; it wasn't a party until 'Lyn slugged someone apparently. Wincing theatrically, his uncle slapped a congratulatory hand on the shoulder not taken up by a bird, jostling them both. "Congratulations, my boy." The heavy hand pulled him in for a hug, before dragging Iiloridan forward to the mercy of older relatives.

"Now someone get this young man something to drink!" The feasting merchants let out a cheer.

Iiloridan, young and lanky and not a single tuft of hair on his chin, puffed up with pride, and accepted the food and drink pressed onto him.

unedited

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Iiloridan Sunshard #Shalyndr Brightquill #Brightquill Clan #House Brightquill #old writing