Moonshade of the Wolfriders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
holtfinder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-07-11 01:09 pm
holtfinder) wrote in revivalproject2021-07-11 01:09 pm
[Howl Mingle] Wolves Outside and They Wear Sheeps' Clothing
WHO: Everyone's invited!
WHERE: The grassy area north of the memorial at Green 19
WHAT: A Howl!
WHEN: Under the light of the full moon
WARNINGS: Please put them in TLs if they apply to your story
The area has been cleared of rocks, making it comfortable for people to sit on the grass or some of the larger boulders that were already there. The full moon shines overhead, making it bright enough to see one another. While some people would put a bonfire in the center of the ring, Moonshade is doing this the traditional way; the Wolfriders avoid fire at all costs.
That said, she's gotten someone to cook a portion of the piglet-squirrels she's hunted to share with everyone, skewered and nicely charred, enough to go around. But there's also raw meat available for anyone like her, who prefers to have theirs fresh.
Moonshade directs everyone into a rough sort of circle, standing in the middle as she waits for the late arrivals. She's dressed in her usual leathers, but there's some flowers from the greenhouse tucked into her hair, something small and purple that catches the moonlight. "Thank you all for coming. My people, the Wolfriders, hold howls regularly. We sing to the moon as our wolf-friends did even before we joined them. And we tell stories. This is how we keep our history alive. I know that I don't share a history with any of you, but I could think of no better way to learn who you all are, what Way you live by, than hearing your stories, and sharing one of my own."
Her smile turns a little wry, and she glances at Steadypaw. "But before the stories, we sing." And the wolf moves from lying down to sitting, throws his head back, and lets out a proper howl. Moonshade joins in a moment later, closing her eyes. It's an eerie harmony between them--she can't help but wonder who'll join in. Or, for that matter, who'll share a tale or two.
WHERE: The grassy area north of the memorial at Green 19
WHAT: A Howl!
WHEN: Under the light of the full moon
WARNINGS: Please put them in TLs if they apply to your story
The area has been cleared of rocks, making it comfortable for people to sit on the grass or some of the larger boulders that were already there. The full moon shines overhead, making it bright enough to see one another. While some people would put a bonfire in the center of the ring, Moonshade is doing this the traditional way; the Wolfriders avoid fire at all costs.
That said, she's gotten someone to cook a portion of the piglet-squirrels she's hunted to share with everyone, skewered and nicely charred, enough to go around. But there's also raw meat available for anyone like her, who prefers to have theirs fresh.
Moonshade directs everyone into a rough sort of circle, standing in the middle as she waits for the late arrivals. She's dressed in her usual leathers, but there's some flowers from the greenhouse tucked into her hair, something small and purple that catches the moonlight. "Thank you all for coming. My people, the Wolfriders, hold howls regularly. We sing to the moon as our wolf-friends did even before we joined them. And we tell stories. This is how we keep our history alive. I know that I don't share a history with any of you, but I could think of no better way to learn who you all are, what Way you live by, than hearing your stories, and sharing one of my own."
Her smile turns a little wry, and she glances at Steadypaw. "But before the stories, we sing." And the wolf moves from lying down to sitting, throws his head back, and lets out a proper howl. Moonshade joins in a moment later, closing her eyes. It's an eerie harmony between them--she can't help but wonder who'll join in. Or, for that matter, who'll share a tale or two.
no subject
"ERIN!" Drake jerked forward as if about to run after her, but pulled up short, looking between her retreating form and his fallen friend bleeding on the floor. A split second later, he dove for Gene's dropped gun and covered him, eyes darting between his friend and the chaos surrounding them. "We have to get out of the way! Can you move?"
***
"No!" He suddenly jerked up straight and jumped to his feet, "No, no, no... Ferthing, wake up! Pen-Penelope!" She was already asleep, leaning against a boulder. He felt unsteady on his feet; what was happening? The drowsiness had come on with stealth and pervasiveness, so that it was both hard to notice and hard to fight. Gene was slumped against the DHD when Drake gripped him by the shoulder and gave him a good slap across the face, which did nothing. He grabbed his radio and shouted for Garrett and Parsons, but they didn't answer. "We've got to get out of here, we- we've got to..." In his increasing daze, he tried drunkenly punching in Earth's coordinates one more time, forgetting that he had already disassembled the DHD before finally sinking to his knees as he succumbed to the mysterious attack.
***
There was a dull, resonating boum as Drake took an unexpected tumble out of the UKGC gate and across the floor, rolling and cringing with discomfort as the wormhole disintegrated behind him.
"What-" He squinted at the empty gate. "WHAT...What the hell was that?! Did anyone feel that?" The demands for information kept up even as he was helped to his feet. "Report, someone, I need a report - oh. Ow. Ugh...let me in." With a slight limp, he made his way to a monitor desk and leaned over, wincing as a sharp pain stabbed through his shoulder.
"I don't know, sir," said Davis, "everything was normal up until-"
"Until it wasn't, yes. Thanks for the insight. Move." Drake pushed his way into Davis' chair and called up the most recent logs. Nothing immediately stuck out to him before Air Marshal Marshall approached, visibly anxious.
"Doctor Riley! What's happened?"
"I don't-"
The gate began lighting up with an incoming signal.
"Aperture shut." Said Davis. "Looks normal to me..."
"Thanks for the input." Drake snarled.
"Receiving PIC. It's Lightoller."
Drake leaned forward, clutching the edge of the desk. "Shawn! Shawn, come in, do you read!"
There was a faint crackle and hiss, and then "...Dr. Riley? What happened?"
The question went ignored as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Where's Owens? Is Peterson there, are you all right?"
"Owens isn't there? He went through!"
"I'm sorry, repeat that? You say Owens came through?"
"Yes, sir. Should I - uh... Should I hold my position?"
"Yes! For now, yes, I have to make sure it's safe before anyone else goes through. Davis, get every last bit of data for the last seventy-two hours to Monroe. Tell him-"
But Monroe rushed in at that moment, waving his own tablet. "Drake! What happened to the gate!?"
"God, will people stop asking me that?"
"It shut down mid-transmission-" Davis started.
"I know, I know, I was monitoring that module when it happened!" Monroe pointed at his screen, "Look at this data set right here. What kind of force could possibly have produced this? Look, the transmission just dumps out, like..."
"Like..." Drake took the tablet and expanded the data set. "...it was diverted."
"What just...diverts a wormhole?"
"I - um.....I could probably think of one or two..."