Second Summer Solstice

[David Silver]

The Temple stands empty at the begining of the solstice. The announcement had made mention of a funeral attire, which the temple itself seemed to emphasize. The floors were bereft of everything, stark stone with patches of dust. In the center of the temple are three objects:
The first is a silver platter with the remnants of blood and dust.
The second is a large basin, holding a sword, a glove, a bow, and a ring. Each has a covering of dust.
The final is a metal bowl, filled with the remains of fruit.

Kneeling in front of the triple offerings is David. He wears a brown robe that is torn, with ashes in his hair. He kneels before the offerings, his forehead pressed low to the ground. Tonight is not a night for posturing and for talking with guests. Tonight is a night for Her, and to delay in any way on this night of nights, is to invite certain death.

[Swift]

Tonight was a night of mourning, and it was expected that participants dress appropriately to that theme. Dr. Swift had briefly entertained the idea of trying to find some traditional Native American funerary garb. However, though it was appropriate to his field of study, and to the events that led him to join the Circle, the truth was that it did not resonate for him with mourning. At least not yet. Perhaps in years to come he would find such things more appropriate. For tonight, however, he went with traditional black. Though he was no longer a follower or believer in a Christian God, it was how he had been raised, and childhood traditions often run deepest. That, and it somehow felt right.

As such Dr. Swift arrives attired in a traditional black suit with a sports jacket. The one concession he makes to the Requiem is the substitution of a black shirt and a long, dark, crimson tie for the more traditional white shirt and black tie. This combination is still well within the normally accepted Western view of funeral attire, of course, but the difference is important to Swift. His typical duster, fedora, cane, and satchel are all absent tonight leaving him somehow much more formal in appearance. He does carry one accessory: a small bouquet of Easter Lilies. The white flowers paint a stark contrast against Swift's black and red attire.

Swift enters the temple in a contemplative silence. His face is composed and his head slightly bowed. He briefly catches Jackie's eye and nods to her somberly. Then he silently makes his way toward the center of the room. He does not interrupt the Hierophant's grieving, but approaches quietly from the side, laying the bouquet on the floor as an offering, but at a distance where they are not immediately associated with those already laid out - like flowers left at an altar or casket, rather than an actual ritual object displayed therein. Though the flowers still appear healthy and vibrant, their stalks clearly visible at the base, cut with no water or device to keep them hydrated. Within the hour they will wilt and their brightness fade. Much like the recently deceased or a Kindred slowly starving, they appear healthy now, but time will show that they are already dead.

Dr. Swift then takes three quiet steps back from the offerings and stand with his hand clasped in front of him, head bowed. He goes perfectly still. No vitae gives color to his flesh, no breath fills his lungs, no rhythm speeds his heart. He might as well be a statue, and in that moment, he too reveals his true nature. Swift remains motionless and silent, prepared to watch in silent vigil for the entire night if that is Her wish.

[Chris Wooding]

While some choose to be as pale and dead as Kindred are, Chris made blood flow through his body. It makes it possibly to be sad. And the Vala is sad when he steps through the entrance. Earlier tonight he could only think about specific living things, his parents, the dog they used to have. But also the East Coast, the sun, all that is lost. It had been so hard to be the dead tourist that never returned home, it could still depress him to think about it. His parents must have been broken. Now the Vala appears to be broken.

Like Method Acting but then real...

Still he does not really cry or sniff, he can be completely silent as tears seem to well up in his eyes. He wears a long old leather jacket and nearly torn pants. It almost symbolizes that everything comes to an end. He felt nothing for formal funeral clothes. A black suit and tie belong to the Western Culture, the Goddess doesn't have a lot to do with that culture.

Upon entering the Vala opens his jacket to let something crawl out. Micky the Homunculus. The little humanlike creature is completely covered in black and brown clothes that he wears as a mantle. Only his red shining eyes pierce through the shadows from his cap. Chris walks to the appropriate place in the temple with the homunculus following in his footsteps. It drags a leather bag with him and stops behind its masters legs.

Together they wait to see what the night brings them.

Chris

[James Calloway]

It was a time of mourning at the Crone Temple... and so James wore what he had worn to the funeral of several Kindred friends, gone long before their time ought to have been up.

The garb had been given to him, partially as a gift and partially as a reminder of where his line came from. The oral histories of the Taifa spanned back hundreds of years, back to the desert cities of North Africa, to the time of al-Meghrebi, the legendary founder of their line. And Harper, the man who had truly shown him what it was to be Civilized, had ensured James knew exactly where he had come from. He was a Moor, like all Taifa. And it was customary to honour that tradition.

So James bared his pretenses, and offered himself and his history to the Goddess. He wore a black, flowing garb that was robelike in its appearance, tied at the front by a sash around his waist*. It was a sombre, funerary garment in this colour, not the white or bright colours of the normal robe.

In his hands was a small box of about one foot height, width and depth.

James' face is somber, and he finds his way to a position near his coteriemate, trusting that the Goddess (and possibly his friend) would guide his steps from there in this new experience. And all that was on his mind was that dark pit where Jose Matias lay torpid in the hands of terror incarnate. He mourned the loss of his young friend, no matter how foolish the Brazilian had been in his final days before his fall.

Placing the box on the floor next to him, he waited and reflected.

*

This is the idea, except the garment is black. James has lowered the hood.

[David Silver]

"One year has the sun's vigor fallen and rose again, and still the Woven Circle remains here. Many have come to join us, others have left, some few have passed beyond. Unlike the other holy days of the year, when we focus on learning through the Goddess and the strength of piety, the summer solstice remains very similar year to year. The summer sun does not care about our wisdom, it does not care about our faith. It kills. And we die." He motions for everyone to join a circle around the offerings in the center, a circle surrounding the triangle of old offerings, a place where new offerings can be given. He takes the hands of the two next to him, and raises his voice, sadness and grief evident throughout.

"There once was a young woman who waited for the sun to rise. She sat in the predawn hours of her home, her children asleep, watching the eastern sky for the sun to come. It brought life to her farm, life to her children's eyes, life to the river. She did not have to wait long, for it was the summer sun that rose at the 5th hour.
She became an old woman, who waited for the sun to set. She glared at the western edge, waiting for the cursed sun to go. It had burned her crops, drying them into brittle nothingness. It had dried her river, making a dust-caked basin. It had burned her skin, bringing meaningless pain to her. It had revealed her children, and they were found and killed by the villagers. The cursed orb would not set.
5. 6. 7. 8. It was not untill the 9th hour that it finally was gone, and darkness was present. The old woman relaxed into the embrace of the darkness, which would not burn her, which would conceal her pain of lost children, which would give a drop of moisture to her ailing crops.
The Messenger of the Crone came to her that night. She did not bring a message of meaningful suffering to her, as she had done to the pagans of the villages. She did not bring a message of the Crone's voice, as she had to the Hierophants for the city. She did not bring a message of retribution as she had to the heretics that had twisted the visage of the Crone. She brought no words at all.
The Messenger gave the woman the Crone's Blessing, for she understood what hundreds of kindred, wise and aged, did not.
She understood the summer sun."
David bows his head, and then looks at each kindred as he explains.
"The summer sun kills us, both by its own might, and by its mere presence. It burns our flesh to ash, destroying us in an instant. But it also destrys us by famine. Our time to hunt becomes limited, our food more active and observant, our hunger all the stronger. The summer sun kills us without malice. It kills us without vengeance. It kills us without care. It kills us without effort. Some kindred go forth to meet the sun, ignorance is their suffering. Some kindred are dragged and chained to greet the sun, malice is their suffering. Some test themselves against the sun, seeking to demonstrate their mastery over the Crone's Blessing; arrogance is their suffering. No matter what is the cause, we mourn all who suffered, and died, by the might of the accursed summer sun.

We Mourn them All."

how this works

Individual lines, like "We mourn them all." are call and response lines, so you will want to orally repeat those. This will give you time to respond.

[Chris Wooding]

From the moment David starts to speak thousand of thoughts shoot through the emotionally down Mekhet. Many have gone, some passed away while others just left without a note. A year ago the Vala expected to have a true Childer of Morrigan among them, she could have been valkyrja by now. Not to mention Papa Zafai, Daymian, maybe some who he has forgotten already.

It Kills. We Die. Nothing more or less.

Then the story about the woman comes. The Vala believes that if he ever hears someone saying that 'there once was a young woman' he will always be reminded about David. Yet all the Hierophant's stories contain wise words and between the lines he tells more than a story.

'We Mourn them All.'

[James Calloway]

David's words struck close to James' dead heart. Words of a world inverted, words of the sun that he remembered loving so much flipping and becoming anathema to his existence, words of loss and sorrow and grief. He did mourn those lost to him. They might not have been the same as David, or Chris, or Swift, or Jackie... but perhaps some were.

"We mourn them all."

[Swift]

Dr. Swift moves to join the Circle as it forms. He falls immediate still again. As Hierophant Silver speaks his thoughts turn inevitably to Jose. He may not have been lost to the burning rays of the summer sun, but he was still lost to us. Ironic he fell into the clutches of one known as Sunshine...

"We mourn them all."

He bows his head in a sudden if subtle movement, quietly mourning those that are not present tonight.