I'd be the voice that urged orpheus, when her body was found

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"