[ He's mostly kidding. He can wrangle a boat, if it was an emergency he'd manage but really he simply prefers to have company just in case. The seas look pretty calm today, they'll manage fine.
Pell stands up, offering Julie an hand to climb in without realizing that's a mistake -- he hasn't had any accidental encounters yet. Unfortunately she either forgets as well or is comfortable enough with him to not be on high alert over an event happening. As soon as she touches him, Hadriel is gone.
--
It is the morning of Pell’s Harhune, his inception. He’s woken to be pampered by two attendants, skin oiled and perfumed, his long dark hair brushed til it shines and then done and adorned with flowers, and is dressed in a robe of sombre black linen. Two more arrive, taller figures with seemingly more importance from their attire, green and gold and adorned with jewelry. Julie may recognize the one as Seel, still with the beads and tassels in his multicolored hair, but everyone has the same ambivalent male-female countenance as the Pell that Julie knows. The other, who passes him a goblet with foul murky liquid, seems to have great authority. Pell drinks it down and immediately feels sedated, and needs to be aided as he’s led out of the building he was in.
Saltrock is a small town up in the mountains, everything hand built and rough but it has its charm. And it seems there’s some kind of celebration going on, but Pell is afraid. He lets himself be guided to a carriage adorned with flowers and ribbon, and as they ride towards the Nayati the townspeople sing and call to him joyfully. It would seem whatever’s going on is about Pell, and there’s some pleasure in that, but it’s overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what is to come.
When they arrive at the Nayati he nearly has to be carried, feeling drunk from the philtre and ill from fear. The building seems to be made for ceremony, seats surrounding what may have been an altar, and other hara taking their places. Pell is led towards a chalked pattern on the altar, propped between the two larger figures, and Seel grabs a staff and strikes the ground. The crowd rises and begins to chant. “Harhune! Harhune!” Pell’s fear grows. Seel pushes him onto his knees.
“Today we witness the inception of Pellaz Unhar. He is deemed fit by myself, Seel Griselming and my colleague Orien Farnell. Does the Harhune take place?” He asks the crowd, who respond with a resounding “Aye!”
The two tall hara begin to anoint him, partially disrobing him before the assembly to write symbols on his skin. It’s all beyond Pell’s understanding, except that he has to do this. And it’s only once they’ve finished that two more hara enter, these of even more seeming importance. They are dressed in white and gold; one holds a metal dish and the other a blade.
“Pellaz, be still,” Seel tells him, and Pell’s eyes close as the blade is raised. There’s a shearing sound, and when he opens his eyes again his hair, his one true vanity, still adorned with the flowers his attendants put in, is in the dish. Pell begins to shiver with fear, now.
There is the distinct sense that nothing is over, not even close. One more has yet to enter and does so now, a mighty figure in pure white, his red hair flaming around him. He has an aura of power that even human Pell can feel, and he is terrified. The others gasp and Seel sounds shocked when he utters, “Him? Him?!”
His companion at the start, still at Pell’s side, merely says, “Yes. I know.”
The congregation is now kneeling before this new har, but as he takes his place Seel and the other pull Pell up and lead him over. He introduces himself as Thiede, and orders the pair to disrobe him completely. Pell can only stare at this new figure, who asks him, “Are you here of your own free will?”
“Yes,” Pell hears himself answer, and Thiede orders him drugged again. The world goes black.
Things skip ahead, or so it would seem, as the memory picks up with Pell surging awake, in terrible pain. He screams, a high terrified sound, clutching at his abdomen for the twisting in his gut. The next stab of it makes him spasm so hard he’s flung from the bed to the floor, but Pell can hardly see from the pain. Everything is blurry and spinning, but he starts to crawl, seeking help. Trying to call out for someone to come, but he can’t get enough air.
He seems to hit something, hand slapping a cool smooth surface, and he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. Turning to see what he’s touching, what the movement is, he finds a monster. No… it screams and recoils as he does. He’s looking in a mirror.
Pell’s half-naked scalp gleams damp and white, paler than he used to be. A long matted plume of hair covers half his face -- they’ve only cut the sides -- but that face is bloated and grey, the eyes rimmed with red, the mouth purpled and slack. All that he can see of himself is bruised and discolored, swollen in odd places. His left arm is nearly twice the size it should be. Pell tears his eyes away from the sight and wretches, spitting up blood and mucus. He can’t scream anymore, but someone is coming.
Someone calls out, “Get him back on the bed!” but the voice is unrecognizable.
A softer tone: “It’s started.” And the memory fades out. ]
cw: body horror, and gimmie 3!
[ He's mostly kidding. He can wrangle a boat, if it was an emergency he'd manage but really he simply prefers to have company just in case. The seas look pretty calm today, they'll manage fine.
Pell stands up, offering Julie an hand to climb in without realizing that's a mistake -- he hasn't had any accidental encounters yet. Unfortunately she either forgets as well or is comfortable enough with him to not be on high alert over an event happening. As soon as she touches him, Hadriel is gone.
--
It is the morning of Pell’s Harhune, his inception. He’s woken to be pampered by two attendants, skin oiled and perfumed, his long dark hair brushed til it shines and then done and adorned with flowers, and is dressed in a robe of sombre black linen. Two more arrive, taller figures with seemingly more importance from their attire, green and gold and adorned with jewelry. Julie may recognize the one as Seel, still with the beads and tassels in his multicolored hair, but everyone has the same ambivalent male-female countenance as the Pell that Julie knows. The other, who passes him a goblet with foul murky liquid, seems to have great authority. Pell drinks it down and immediately feels sedated, and needs to be aided as he’s led out of the building he was in.
Saltrock is a small town up in the mountains, everything hand built and rough but it has its charm. And it seems there’s some kind of celebration going on, but Pell is afraid. He lets himself be guided to a carriage adorned with flowers and ribbon, and as they ride towards the Nayati the townspeople sing and call to him joyfully. It would seem whatever’s going on is about Pell, and there’s some pleasure in that, but it’s overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what is to come.
When they arrive at the Nayati he nearly has to be carried, feeling drunk from the philtre and ill from fear. The building seems to be made for ceremony, seats surrounding what may have been an altar, and other hara taking their places. Pell is led towards a chalked pattern on the altar, propped between the two larger figures, and Seel grabs a staff and strikes the ground. The crowd rises and begins to chant. “Harhune! Harhune!” Pell’s fear grows. Seel pushes him onto his knees.
“Today we witness the inception of Pellaz Unhar. He is deemed fit by myself, Seel Griselming and my colleague Orien Farnell. Does the Harhune take place?” He asks the crowd, who respond with a resounding “Aye!”
The two tall hara begin to anoint him, partially disrobing him before the assembly to write symbols on his skin. It’s all beyond Pell’s understanding, except that he has to do this. And it’s only once they’ve finished that two more hara enter, these of even more seeming importance. They are dressed in white and gold; one holds a metal dish and the other a blade.
“Pellaz, be still,” Seel tells him, and Pell’s eyes close as the blade is raised. There’s a shearing sound, and when he opens his eyes again his hair, his one true vanity, still adorned with the flowers his attendants put in, is in the dish. Pell begins to shiver with fear, now.
There is the distinct sense that nothing is over, not even close. One more has yet to enter and does so now, a mighty figure in pure white, his red hair flaming around him. He has an aura of power that even human Pell can feel, and he is terrified. The others gasp and Seel sounds shocked when he utters, “Him? Him?!”
His companion at the start, still at Pell’s side, merely says, “Yes. I know.”
The congregation is now kneeling before this new har, but as he takes his place Seel and the other pull Pell up and lead him over. He introduces himself as Thiede, and orders the pair to disrobe him completely. Pell can only stare at this new figure, who asks him, “Are you here of your own free will?”
“Yes,” Pell hears himself answer, and Thiede orders him drugged again. The world goes black.
Things skip ahead, or so it would seem, as the memory picks up with Pell surging awake, in terrible pain. He screams, a high terrified sound, clutching at his abdomen for the twisting in his gut. The next stab of it makes him spasm so hard he’s flung from the bed to the floor, but Pell can hardly see from the pain. Everything is blurry and spinning, but he starts to crawl, seeking help. Trying to call out for someone to come, but he can’t get enough air.
He seems to hit something, hand slapping a cool smooth surface, and he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. Turning to see what he’s touching, what the movement is, he finds a monster. No… it screams and recoils as he does. He’s looking in a mirror.
Pell’s half-naked scalp gleams damp and white, paler than he used to be. A long matted plume
of hair covers half his face -- they’ve only cut the sides -- but that face is bloated and grey, the eyes rimmed with red, the mouth purpled and slack. All that he can see of himself is bruised and discolored, swollen in odd places. His left arm is nearly twice the size it should be. Pell tears his eyes away from the sight and wretches, spitting up blood and mucus. He can’t scream anymore, but someone is coming.
Someone calls out, “Get him back on the bed!” but the voice is unrecognizable.
A softer tone: “It’s started.” And the memory fades out. ]