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Jeremiah walks slowly over to Firebringer. Making sure his approach is known to the elder wolf before getting too close. As he gets closer Jeremiah tilts his head to the side to show his neck.
"Firebringer would you be willing to hear some questions?" The Ghost Wolf asks quietly and respectfully. This is far more public than his discussion with Stephen and Jeremiah does not want that to happen again.
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Eyes flick to Jeremiah's exposed neck, and for the briefest instant ... that couldn't have been a glint of ... hunger. Could it?
Firebringer lets the silence stretch out just a second too long before speaking. "Ask."
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Jeremiah speaks a moment after when he should. His mind shuffling the look..for a better term, away somewhere he can wonder about it later. He bows his head in thanks.
"I am wondering what it means to be a Hunter." The Ghost Wolf stops talking and after a moment taps over his heart.
"In here, not in here." Then taps on his head. Two very different ways of thinking that Jeremiah thinks about far too much.
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Daniel is nearby, sitting on the ground, reading a worn out thick book. On the cover it says "The chronicles of Amber". After he sees Jeremiah approach Firebringer, he considers approaching with a few questions of his own, but decides that their conversation is a bit too private.
So he continues reading: Corvin is just about to get his memory back.
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Firebringer studies Jeremiah for a moment. "The herd fear the dark, they fear the unknown. They barricade themselves in their houses against the night and its terrors, ward off the darkness with their cocoons of light. And they have good reason to fear, reasons that they've walled away deep within their unconscious in service of the illusion that their world is safe.
Much lurks within darkness, and it has its own order. The Hisil gives weight to every object, every action, every idea. We see to it that that order is maintained, by hunting that which reaches beyond its proper place, and guarding that whose meaning must not fade. You'll find that many among the Meninna embrace the wolf side of our nature.
We plunge into the unknown without fear, but do not seek to tame it. 'Tame' is for the herd. The true balance that we uphold is a far more violent state than they would ever seek. And so, those few with the drive to probe into the darkness, we warn away. Any who refuse to heed ..." he shrugs. "One member of the herd is a small price."
He falls to silence, gauging the Ghost Wolf's reaction.
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Jeremiah's head tilts barely to the side as he thinks over what Firebringer is saying. "I think too much." He says quietly to himself. Before taking a breath to push aside the confused thoughts about humans.
"To put it crudely. Guarding the borders to maintain the balance? Whether that be spirits or humans..."
"Or Wolves?" Jeremiah asks for a moment of thought. Surely some would lose sight of what had to be done. "The Magath in the old turf. That was wrong. When the Hisil was restored, it was amazing. Everything flourishing back to life." He looks into the distance. "That was my first real view of what the Hisil was supposed to be like. What it has to be."
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Firebringer nods. "The borders, yes. But more than that. Let no sacred place in your territory be violated. The locus has a presence now, because we've declared it Tur. Every Meninna learns to recognize and cherish those places that develop weight. You must see to it that those places are not despoiled." A growl threads through his voice, simmering hatred that would never subside.
"The empty Hisil wasn't just wrong, it was dangerous. The resonance of the Shadow Realm touches even the Herd. Cut off from it, they would have eventually withered and died. Perhaps not physically, but certainly emotionally, and that's even disregarding the havoc that spirits can, and most certainly did, play on this side."
He studies Jeremiah for a moment. "How much do you know of Magath?"
Cord having watched the conversation thus far with interest speaks intentionally "How can we as a people continue to hold on to tradition so staunchly when the world around us revolves so quickly around us. I see us as old men holding on to thing no longer relevant and no longer useful to not only our existence, but to our mission." Cord waits for the response knowing he has tread upon a subject that will bring others to anger.
He continues, "I see this journey as an exercise in faith, and an adventure in revolution, my only real question is how do we create a revolution in a world that only cares about its forward momentum, and doesn't care about how it got there." Cord sighs slightly, "How do we maintain the sacred when nothing is sacred any longer?"
Cord watches the other participants as those words sink in expecting anger.
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"Magath are what happens when spirits feed off the wrong spirits. When things get messy." Jeremiah replies to Firebringer as he raises a hand to stall a response to Cord. "They occur when a spirit consumes the wrong type of spirit. A cat can consume a cat or a mouse but a cat consuming a car would eventually lead to a cat-car magath. I don't know if its instantaneous or occurs gradually." Jeremiah lets his hand fall and shifts to be able to address Cord as well.
"We have Luna and the Firstborn. They light the paths that we follow. Yes as a Ghost Wolf that may seem absurd for me to say as I have not sworn an Oath to any Firstborn but that is the way I see it. To hold nothing sacred would imply nihilism. Your average person surely finds something sacred. It depends on what sacred means. If we are talking religious sacred then I would agree that that appears to be eroding. However if we are talking personal sacred that that is entirely up to the individuals involved." Jeremiah's tone is calm and not strained. Content to keep an open mind to this, and to observe any patterns amongst different Tribe members.
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A brief nod to Jeremiah. He wanted to probe deeper, but ... Cord's question was simply dangerous. Narrowed eyes take in the Irraka. "Is there truly nothing you hold dear, that you would fight and die to protect?"
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