LIKE A HEATHEN CLUNG TO THE HOMILY | body paint & weekly task

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color: black;"]In bowls neatly assembled at her feet rested paint in various shades of blue, gold, and black. She seemed to be staring at the colors thoughtfully, mind alive as she recalled the many times her second had adorned her rosetted pelt with whorls of different hues to symbolize her importance within the group and mark her as an ally. It was tradition to assemble and be painted before battle or war, and this almost recreational practice of something so dear to her felt wrong. Agathe knew that she could have politely requested a different task, but wondered if the Fates themselves had orchestrated this entire thing to see if she had truly fallen so far from the dedicated assassin her grandmother had raised her as.

She'd cast a long glance up at the sky at that thought, golden eyes rolling almost in spite of her innate fear of higher powers. Was she trying to show that they didn't own her? Or something else? Honestly, Agathe didn't know. She was aware of the fact that she couldn't stare at the sky angrily forever and brought her attention back to the ground, searching now for some unlucky Ascendant that she could paint. "Where I come from," The snow leopard would announce unexpectedly, "All witchlings were to be painted by their sisters before battle or war. While we certainly aren't going to be fighting a battle on the same scale that I once did, I'd still like to bring my tradition here... To share with you all."" She paused and then flashed her teeth in some type of crooked grin, "And this might also be my weekly task so... Line up!"