ACTING ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR | training program

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

The Vicar had been raised on organization -- he had always preferred organization.  Study, analysis, practice and routine were essential for success, especially for a collaboration of individuals.  Seeing calm settle back over the Pitt since the tremors, Gael decided it was high time to employ that routine.

While they had few Aspirants, the faerie believed the Edus could use regular training -- besides, Gael believed if the whole of the Pitt, regardless of age, participated in what he had in mind, the better the results. 

With a thoughtful glint in his hazel eyes, the vulpine made his way to the center of the marketplace, knowing more would hear him here and the news would spread quickly.  Flicking his ear, the Vicar rose his voice, "Pittians!"

"Starting this week I am implementing a regular training schedule.  I encourage everyone who is able-bodied to participate, but I expect the youth to attend in particular."

"The first session will be hosted in the Strategist Temple -- a game of capture of the flag.  I will be organizing you into two teams, so if you are going to participate, tell me now so we don't waste time the day of."

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby

[j a c k .]

there was an unfamiliar voice, but not a new face. jack had spotted the other retreating from the border a day or so ago, but had decided against approaching in all entirely. the other looked, for the most part: tense at the time. jack were in a better headspace the day of spotting the other fae, and decided to leave the other be, if only for the moment. It was now; calling attention to himself, that jack turned his attention towards the vicar. ice blue eyes steeling as he slowly gathered himself from where he lay and approach.

a training game, by the announcement. the attempt of union, of unity in this place was strong, and it seemed little for naught. kydobi and his traditions, gael and his weekly scheduling. would it all prove for naught, would the land of war call once again for blood to state it's sands? jack felt so eerily like a watcher of the group, of the attempts, and the kodkod saw through them easily: it was only a question of wither they would work or no. for the moment, jack took the opportunity to observe as he approached, taking a pleasure pace before stepping in front of the vicar himself.

"don't believe i've met you yet. you can call me jack." he offered a nod as he sat himself down, looking on evenly, after a moment of silence he added "and would you be joining your own game?"

[aine.]

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I'll come back when you call me

Aine was... More than familiar with her father's routine.  Mostly because it was nice to know.  Comforting.  She wasn't, however, particularly good at following a similar pattern, though she did try.  Everyday, after getting up, she checked on her garden.  Then she checked the herb stocks in the event temple, maybe re-organized.  After that... It varied.

With a broken hindleg, the day became a lot slower.  Very boring.  Listlessness was sinking in when her father's voice suddenly rang across the marketplace.  For a moment she just sat, dumbfounded, hazel hues blinking in confusion.  He sounded so... Commanding.  Like... Well he is Vicar... Her teeth caught the inside of her cheek.  Giving into curiosity, she wobbled to a stand and gradually made her way to the marketplace.

A regular training schedule?  Aine felt her ear twitch, a pit growing in her stomach as she joined Jack.  The first session was a very physical game too... "... Can... Can I help, da?" ... Somehow.  Maybe she could referee.

— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

Thoughtfully, the faerie inclined his head.  A new face to him, Gael studied the kodkod for a moment, taking a moment to familiarize name and face, as well as mannerisms.  "Call me Gael," an old-fashioned phrasing, but one the vulpine was familiar with.

Jack seemed to be observational, which the Vicar approved of -- it was a pleasant note to make in youth.  As for the question, Gael decided to ponder for a moment.  In the end, he preferred to stand in observation himself -- to take advantage of the program to study the strengths of his clanmates.  It may be more difficult to do such while actively participating.

On the other paw, the young often learned by example.  The most respected teachers did not just teach, but engaged.  "Should the teams be uneven, I will participate as well.  Otherwise, I shall referee."

To his daughter, the faerie turned, brows furrowing.  "Yes, Aine, I have a role for you -- on site as a field medic.  If someone else is interested," Piers, perhaps, "I will have them assist you.  Is that okay with you, Lottie?"

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

well there was a unique opportunity for training here too.

Silent himself.

After all, no one knew what he could do and he was vastly larger than the other two - it would only be right to pit two against one in such case no?

Silent did not care either way but the boredom grated as much as the hunger gnawed at his writhing pitch dark insides.

The slow lumbering gait let them know he approached - by design, for he was silence when he was so inclined,

Towering over the three, those maws stretched and clacked

”present” the rumbling cacophony of voices hissed, almost a tad sardonically, to announce their attendance.

/short oof

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TAGS - REF [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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© LEXASPERATED

[DIRT]

cw: decay, parasites, & insects. general squeamishness

---

Like ink in milk, he blooms.

Yellowed teeth bared, lips drawn back, frozen in a smile. His legs, greasy and caked with old blood carry him to the little group that has gathered here, saliva rolling off his tongue and dangling, dripping. His face and body are pockmarked in scars, old and new, from his time as host to many living squirming beasts that he tenderly invites into his flesh. He is a fresh slate now, but flies still buzz. Cockroaches still settle on his brow, tasting rotten flesh. He has experienced a new baptism, his body unmarred for weeks, only to begin again, the process of being infected. Of letting infection and infestation take root.

It is a process and an art, to watch a body decay before your eyes. To understand that it is your body decaying. To watch insects that herald rot occupy your body and mind, to watch your body become a feast to a million little creatures so much smaller and weaker. To incubate and let thrive every little thing that your mother has ever feared. He exists to house corruption, to serve corruption alone, to taste death his whole life and let the process thrill him. To let it enthrall him.

At Gael's call, he is here. He sidles up along Silent, orange eyes burning into the others that had arrived. More alive than ever. The closest he has ever felt.

"I will join this game as well."

There were much worse games to play.

[trojan g.]

Capture the flag was a game that Sweeney had heard of before, but not that she had ever played. It was difficult to play a game when there were so many other members of the group that you disliked, after all, even your own family half the time. Mercede was the only sister she had left at this point that hadn't completely disappeared, and she was always a thorn in Sweeney's side. But she'd found a friend at the very least, even if Atticus wasn't here yet, she knew he would be eventually. Hopefully when he did come they'd be on the same team together.

"I wanna play," Sweeney stated as she came over, sitting down and watching Gael before turning and looking around her. So many she didn't know, all she didn't really care for. They weren't friends, they weren't family, she had no reason to care, so it didn't really matter which team she'd be put on. The brat wouldn't be a team player either way, and most knew it.

SWEENEY CALLAHAN - THE PITT - EDUS - PENNED BY TIKKI