Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2023 1:22:37 GMT
 here i stand in the heart of beautiful debris Clouds had lined the sky all afternoon leading into a cool evening as Gru'e Canna'a sauntered through the trees. The sun was beginning to set over the western border, coloring the skies with hues of purple and orange. A weariness showed upon his light furred face. The remnants of his ears pulled backwards, pulling the wrinkles that lined his forehead back into a smooth expression atop his head. He had announced earlier in the day for the clan to gather outside of the greenhouse they all referred to as their pell'galu for a ceremony for all of the ayou'canna. A small sigh escaped his lips at the thought. Through it all they still had many bodies missing. Typically the canna would douse those emle rumblier in colorful herbs. The paint and dusts would liven up the lifeless forms of those who no longer walked among them. But, at this tragedy that had befallen the clan, there were many still left missing. Gru'e knew he was already unpopular amongst his peers - or subordinates. He also knew this would not help him gain any popularity points among his fellow Ah'mir, but he knew deep down that it was the right thing to do. The clan had to move onward. They had to look towards the future if they were to survive. And that was his number one priority at the moment. Letting out a soft huff, he glanced towards the greenhouse, noting the way the lights reflected from the magnificent building. While he was never a fan of humans, their architecture was sometimes a thing to behold. It was quite clear to the shadowspeaker that it was the gods who had granted them this safe space, this place to call their home. With a low rumble in his throat, the shepherd built up the sound until it emerged in a magnificent bark, calling out towards the gathering place of the clan. He listened fervently for a response that would announce that all of those within the clan had gathered and were awaiting his presence. He had placed this role in the paws of one of his more trusted dogs, Mufara Haeda'how. Though Tatu'elier was a trusted owi, she was small and did not demand the respect of a canna like the cane corso. At her signaled bark, he would make his grand entrance and begin the ceremony. i act | "i speak" | 'i think' |