Taking up the torch from his mother as a priest was a strange thing, it left a buzzing sensation at the back of his mind that he struggled to ignore. However, he'd been asked to spend more time within his sister's pack to teach the latest brood of little godlings about their heritage. Their divinity. Based on how some of them had been brought forth... divinity seemed unquestionable. He couldn't deny the importance of the fae who'd brought them about, a tiny canine whose importance to the pack had previously been questionable to Pontifex. Anyone who made his sister come stomping into the shrine like that wasn't exactly in his good books. Regardless, she was important now, and Modesty had bid him visit their children, so here he was. The violet tinted zealot picked his way through the misty landscape of the moor, searching for a spot to settle. A few furs and hides were slung across his back, some dried meats wrapped safely within them to prevent the mist from getting to them and rendering them inedible.

Long limbs carried the ornamented male towards the standing stones without any awareness of their presence, until they loomed over him against a backdrop of undulating grey skies. Ah, perfect. He let his parcels slip from his narrow frame just outside the circle, knowing better than to settle within their boundaries without further investigation. Once he'd properly assessed their latent energies and any lingering spirits, he might elect to utilize the circle for future lessons. For now, he spread the hides just outside of the standing stones. Turned the furs up so that the children could settle on their plush softness. On the walk over, he'd been pondering the possibilities of what lessons he might teach, and decided he would be best off starting slow. A history lesson, more than a sermon. It was best to root the truth of their bloodline in their hearts before the world could taint their purity with falsehoods. They would know their holiness and the importance of their blood, before all else.

As he looked over the accoutrements of his lesson, his memory drifted to an entirely different perspective of the scene. Wreathed in the fog of time, all of the furs surrounded by pale trunks. His mother's voice. His siblings, his cousins. The time before the Fall. It made his chest ache. Pontifex let out a long breath, centring himself. And then he tipped back his skull to loose a summons for his sister's children, his nieces and nephews. An invitation to learn of their heritage.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "Pollux"

Druids Moor was a beautiful and wonderous place. Sagittarius had often found herself within, becoming a young girl she was more adventerous more than ever. A small smile curving up her lips showing off her canines. She wasn't like her siblings. No, she was different but not in a bad way. She learned that they all had differences and that is what made them much stronger together than alone. The sight of a large brute outlined with the fog made Sagittarius think she was seeing something other than a living being. Ears perked forwards as a shift of her body was given. Her ears constantly going back and forth, the sound of pelts being placed upon the ground caught her attention even more. Coming closer, she'd notice that he was painted like her mother was. A soft voice was offered, giving greeting to the brute. "'Ello." She continued to look at the colors that married his body, just like her mama Modesty. "You look like my mum." She stated, as eyes of golden yellow look to him. Taking a seat upon one of the softer furs that were placed down. Sagittarius Fallen

• Moon Divider •

Cutlass approaches to catch the tail-end of Sagittarius’ comment, and he huffs an amused little laugh. amber eyes peer around at the spread, the man, the fog, the shrine. taking it all in, cataloguing very detail and filing everything away for further inspection. he’ll take it out later, when it’s quiet and he has room to think; he’ll turn it around and over and upside down until understands it all completely. now, he inclines his head to the man and plops down next to his sister, nudging her teasingly with a forepaw. ”name’s Cutlass sir. and this is Sagittarius.”

Pythia would not quite realize it, but she should be glad that the moor is not busy with nature like the ravine was. Out here, in the open, she was free to walk along dirt paths without so much care as she had when traversing the steps of the treehouses. Here, she felt safer, connected, as if something pulled her forward. Perhaps it was the rocks or her destiny, she didn't know which one yet, but when her uncle loosed a call for a lesson, she was not going to miss out.

Like her siblings, she didn't know who the man was that spread out the pelts and awaited those of them who wanted to attend. She couldn't see that he looked like their mother or that he was adorned with intricate markings that would have struck a cord in her heart. Instead, Pythia follows the unknown scent of someone that was similar to family and those of her siblings. Upon approach, she hesitates momentarily at the edge of the furs, paws moving along the softened edges until she steps onto them.

Reaching her nose out to feel for Cutlass' side, Pythia moves forward again until she's sitting down, her shoulder touching his. "Pythia," she states clearly, having heard her brother introduce himself and Sagittarius. She stares straight ahead, milky blue eyes practically unblinking as she tries to find the source of sound that she would soon come to know as her uncle. "What brings you to the moor?" Pythia questions, ears perking up, eager to know what was in store.

"speech"

Lengthening limbs ate up the ground as he made his way from the ravine. As Corsair grew, the creature trying to break out of the round ball of puppy fluff only became more disjointed. Flat faced with a slim muzzle, his long collie fur almost like his mother's but not. The long fur could have been mistaken as coming from his larger mother, small familiar antlers atop his head marked him as one of Modesty's for certain but now he looked upon the stranger that summoned him, he wasn't so sure that hadn't come from her too.

Familiar violet eyes stared back at him, perhaps without the herding dog intent, but the man had fur like his, less silky and flowing than his mothers. There was no denying the family resemblance between the man before him and Modesty. As he sat, he lifted his chin, forcing the turned over tips of his ears back. It was about the only thing he could do to make himself look more like one of them and less like... whatever dark and twisted monstrosity he was beneath it all.

"speech"

Brimming with confidence, Gilda followed in on Corsair's heels, crystals about her neck clattering as she almost bounded through the fog and straight into her brother's back. She'd heard the others introduce themselves and nipped her big weirdo brother to make room for her. "Don' mind this one," she tipped her head to Corsair who was still doing that strange staring thing some of her siblings did. "This one's Corsair, an' I'm Gilda." She flashed a brilliant smile, her own fangs wiggling with the movement. She too, wondered what he was going to be teaching them, but she was sure enough of her siblings had already answered the question, so she was content to flop down sphynx like and wait to see if more of their siblings would arrive.

"speech"

One by one, little children appeared from the mist of the moors. Each painted in distinct patterns and striking hues, as befitting children of one of God's disciples. Blessed, each and every one. The first to appear was a young girl, who greeted him informally and commented on his resemblance to her mother. It was not long before she settled upon one of the furs he had just laid down, patiently awaiting the sermon. A small smile crossed his dainty features, and he dipped his skull to her in a gentle greeting. "That is because she is my sister, little one." he informed her in soft, lilting vocals. And just like that, there was another one. Bearing similar colouration to the first, and quick to introduce himself and his sister. The willowy priest lightly inclined his head once more in a decidedly formal greeting for a pair of children. "Welcome Cutlass, Sagittarius. I am Pontifex, your uncle." he replied quietly, and then his attention was quickly diverted by the arrival of yet more of his nieces and nephews.

An exceedingly pale child, long legged and light footed in a way that drew his eye. She moved quite slowly, carefully picking her way across the soft, heather strewn terrain. As she drew close, the pale silvery blue of her eyes nearly blended with her alabaster pelage, and when she carefully moved to sit up against Cutlass, the milkiness of her pupils was all he needed for an understanding to form. Initially he was concerned- why had his sister not culled the weakness from the litter, as was their way? Then, the miraculous nature of a portion of these offspring bade him pause. Of course. To cull any of the children that were blessed by God to have been created from the essence of two females.. that would be blasphemy. The girl introduces herself as Pythia, and asks why he has come to the moor. "Well, Pythia," he begins carefully, auds flickering to capture the sounds of another small body approaching. "Your mother would like for you and your siblings to understand the importance of your bloodline, and the power that dwells within each of you, as we had been taught when we were your age. And so, I am here to deliver those teachings." he explained, tone measured and perfectly serene.

Another pale child, this one painted in dove greys and adorned with budding antlers that he recognized immediately. The boy was silent, his stare unyielding. He did not speak, and so neither did the waifish godling. It was a short stare-down, as the keen eyes of the priest delved into the very soul of the odd moon-child. There was something unnatural in those eyes, something unfamiliar. This litter was destined for something, that much was obvious. The circumstances of their birth alone had set them on this path, but the oddities among them would guide their ascent as much as their internal fortitude.

The bounding, carefree approach of a patchwork pup interrupted the soul-searching staring contest. The girl had the oversized fangs that were common of many blessed wolves in this region, though when she grinned up at him they seemed to shift and adjust into a new position. That was.. unique, to say the least. She bade him pay the boy no mind, and introduced him as Corsair. The girl offered up her own name, Gilda. Evocative of the man who had seemed to find myriad ways to break his sister's heart. Interesting choice. "Hello Corsair, Gilda. Please, make yourself comfortable. I think we can begin the lesson now." he said simply, and with a gentle smile for both of the children.

Long limbs pulled him forth, so that he might recline upon his hindquarters in the midst of the group of pups. He spread the small morsels of dried meats across the dew-soaked grasses with a careful forepaw. Free for them to take and chew while they listened. "It is nice to meet you all, and I am glad you've chosen to join me today. My mother might have called this a sermon, but I would rather call it a lesson. By your mother's request, I am going to teach you of your divine origins, so that this knowledge might guide you to greatness in the years to come." he started with the low, reverent intonations that he more commonly utilized for prayer. However, they felt appropriate for the moment. A kind of mellifluous invocation of the divine that he hoped would ensure the attention of his nieces and nephews remained fixed upon him.

"Long before any of us walked the terra, there were many gods that toiled within the heavens. Among these was a great and powerful entity, Abraxas. He ruled over them all, as both a king and a god among gods in his own right. The other divines envied him for his strength and his cunning, which he used to keep them all in line and doing his bidding. Over many countless aeons, the lesser gods found seeds of envy and hatred growing in their hearts, which they nurtured among themselves until they festered. The other gods plotted an uprising against their great and powerful ruler, Abraxas. They wanted his throne and his kingdom for their own." there was a slight furrow in his brow as he spoke, two-toned gaze sweeping over the gathered children to assess how they were taking in the ancient history of their own lineage. "And so they gathered their strength, and as one great force they rose up against the King of Gods, Abraxas. They cast him from the heavenly realm- they stole his great power that they so coveted, and struck him down to the realm of mortals. A great rage welled up within him, so wounded by their betrayal, and it spilled out of his now-mortal body. Through this, the world knew suffering. Pain, hate, sickness, and war."

He paused again, looked over the children. It was not a kind tale, nor a particularly honourable origin. It might be difficult for these children to accept, at such a young age. "As the years wore on, Abraxas sired many children. To these children, he was their God as much as he was their father. These children took the name of Abraxas as their own, to spread his glory through the realm. It was Abraxas' hope that as his children spread his name, and their dominion grew and spread across the lands, that his power would return to him. It is not known precisely when he died, but it was upon his death that we came to know him only as God. He is trapped in the infernal realm to this very day, and only through the great deeds of His descendants- you, your mother, and myself, among many others in these lands- might His power be restored. It is our duty to bring greatness to His name, and should we fall in the line of that duty, we can join Him in that realm and be by his side. This is how the children of God ascend to become gods ourselves, so that we might serve Him and eventually retake the heavens from the traitors who cast Him out." as the final syllables were uttered, and the lingering vestiges of his speech turned from echoes in the mist to an empty silence, his gaze drifted upwards. The skies were blocked by that low-lying fog, and the clouds overhead that kept the mist from truly dissipating. It did not matter, the divine tether was never truly broken for the godling.

He allowed the silence to linger, for the lengthy explanation of their origins to settle within the minds of his young nieces and nephews. It was a lot to take in, and he would not fault them for taking the time to turn it over in their minds for a while yet. "I will not ask anything of you in this moment, children." he assured them with soft, calm vocals. Instead, he smoothed a paw over the intricate scars that wound up his foreleg thoughtfully. "Take a moment to consider what this means to you, and in a few moments I will check in with you all. At that time, if you would like to ask anything of me, you are welcome to do so." there was reassurance in his smile then, in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and the curvature of his shoulders as he lowered his skull to try and meet each child's eye, to ensure they knew his sincerity.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "Pollux"

Sagittarius Fallen

Sagittarius watched her siblings gather around soon enough. A smile flashing to each one and a nip playfully given to her brother Cutlass. Ears perked as the brute had spoken out, stating that their mother was his sister. So that would make him her uncle. Excitement soon almost boiling over. Introducing himself as Pontifex, the name seemed to match him, wondering if she could call him uncle instead, the masculine greeted Pythia and the rest of them.

Their bloodlines holding powers? And here their uncle was going to give these lessons they all needed to learn. What was a sermon? She wondered. Did it mean the same thing as a lesson? It had too right? Her tail waved gently behind her as ears twisted forwards listening carefully, studying each word that fell from their uncles lips.

Wasn't she just talking to her sister about greatness just the other day? The young girl listened and watched her uncle. Abraxas was envied? How could someone hate others? And be jealous of what others were. Sagittarius began to not care for this lesson, stamping her paw down into the ground.

"Why would others wish to harm those around them? Why be jealous of another and not just accept?" She closed her eyes, pondering and thinking of different outcomes and ways the others could have solved the problems. But no! They only casted Abraxas out, shamed him in ways. Eyes turning to the grounds. She cursed the gods that cast Abraxas to the mortals. Cursed fairly under her breath so no one could hear.

table coding by bunni ♥

Pythia sits rigid beside Cutlass as her soft toned uncle speaks. Their mother wanted them to know the importance of their bloodline? Her head cants, curious to understand deeper what that meant. Already, before the lesson even begins, Pythia is enraptured and hungry to know more. She ignores the meat set in front of her, unwilling to allow the noises of her chewing to interrupt the vocals of Pontifex. There was something about him, the way he speaks, how he smells, how his body moves through the air that draws her in. Was he a god already before ascending? Something... she couldn't place a paw upon it.

As the rest of the group piles in and introduces themselves, Pythia feels the itchiness of impatience. If the others would just hurry up and get settled, their uncle could begin. Holding herself back as she waits, her breath releases when Pontifex finally starts. Her ears are pressed firmly forward, drinking in every wispy word that he speaks. The story is wonderful and sorrowful in all the right and wrong ways. Pythia's heart wrenches in her chest for Abraxas. Only the weak would do such a thing to their God... Her lips bristle as her teeth clamp together.

Their uncle does warn them to take time to think, to mull, to ponder over what was told to them. What would be the best question to ask first? Her mind lingers on it, filtering through the many things she wishes to speak when her sister, Sagittarius peaks up. Pythia's ear and nose turn toward the huffy nature of Sagittarius with a furrow of her brow. She understands the frustration from her sister for Abraxas' mistreatment, but perhaps her sister doesn't understand the dire evil that jealousy and envy truly was... Would those who could see ever feel such an emotion as she had before?

Instead, Pythia attempts to deter from the question with one of her own. "So it is possible we may rise to godhood and avenge Abraxas?" Pythia poses the question, turning her face back toward Pontifex, not quite looking at him, but close enough that it is clear her words are for the older man.

"speech"