nexus_crossings | Age Old Advice (Seasonal Post)

Age Old Advice (Seasonal Post)

A mist has settled over the Nexus this morning.

The fog billows and wisps, keeping destinations hidden from view. Muffling the noise of the plaza, stifling everything into a feeling of bleak isolation. Those who persevere will find a warm orange glow drawing them near. At either end of the Plaza--one near the sprawling parks close to the Wilds and the other closer to the beginnings of the urban sprawl--are two oasis from the creeping cold and mists. Hazel has taken the flame from the bonfire she lit at the Equinox that has burned steadily ever since and spread it out among several torches making up the perimeter of these areas now. The bonfire is long gone, but these two areas remain. When she came into the season she was a roaring blaze. So much to prove. With her place cemented here, she has gotten down to her actual work.

The Autumn spirit is seated on a bench in one of the torch lit circles holding a conversation with a person that's difficult to make out. IN fact, when someone approaches, they will find it's a spirit she is cavorting with. After only a few seconds the figure dissolves into the selfsame mist people have sought out these places to escape from. Hazel turns to her new audience.

"If you could talk to a lost loved one just once more, who would you want to see? What advice would you ask from a loved one deigning to cross the veil to see you?"

((Anyone who chooses to participate may choose to either speak to Hazel in general about the question she's posing or if the player is so inclined Hazel will conjure up the spirit of a lost loved one to speak to your character. Please DM me in DW or discord if you choose to have a loved one appear so we can hash out what you want to do. Curses and Blessings are still available as well. Happy Day of the Dead, folks ;) ))

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She smiles softly, She seems a bit more settled in herself since last she saw her. Good. She thinks approvingly. As she waits her turn respectfully. The tension in her shoulders eases a mite. Though her hairs are still slightly up and on edge. There are similar sorts of places in other realms. Where most civilizations build alters or marker stones of one sort or another. Perhaps if they can find a door or stable portal to one this year. She and Dor will find or build a spot more akin to home to honor her kin and his.

She nods with a soft smile but it doesn't quite reach her eyes which are soft and slightly saddened. "Aye..tis true." She murmurs softly. And glances about for some free spot to perhaps sit. She did enjoy chatting with folks by a fire, heath or candlelight. True modern lighting was good for some things..But the other kind called and soothed something..perhaps longing and something more primal, older in her soul.

She slightly tilts her head, some sort of protective aura, perhaps. She half mused noticing the mists respects the lights. Her ancestors on her mother's side had a love and respect for fire. Heck most of their 'heroes' we're flame-haired.

Her face softens a bit more. "Aye..my brother Connor especially." She replies softly. It seemed the time of year to share such things when the veil was thin. She softly rubs her left side, if she and Dor were ever blessed with a son she knew what at least what perhaps his middle name would be. Her hand curls a little into a fist the knuckles going slightly white. The Ogre Wars had dealt heavily on most folks back in the EnchantedForest over the years. Though the last bit of news they'd gotten about home was they had the latest attempted invasion by the brutest creatures under control. But they were tenacious sorts.

Is it pride, respect for the barrier between worlds, or fear that stops the question from manifesting? Hazel takes a step back and makes a sweeping gesture with her hand toward the bench she had been seated at only moments before when she was speaking with another spirit. There is no bonfire here, but the torches do at least keep the worst from the misty chill from seeping into this place.

With her guest seated the Autumn spirit takes several moments to stand in the center of her sequestered circle and stare out at the swirling mists that surround them on all sides. Some may find this sight to be frightening. Threatening. To Hazel it is life's greatest mystery held so close one could nearly reach out and grasp it.

"What sort of a man was Connor?"

It's definitely a mix of the latter two, and also a cautiousness. As she's slightly unsure as too the other woman's mood/state of mind at the moment. She gives her a small warm smile though and nods as she pads over toward the spot. "Thank ya kindly." She replies softly and slightly clears her throat.

She eases a bit more into the seat still a little on edge, but least Hazel seems..calm-ish at the moment so she takes that as a good sign. Least till..her ears go back a little uncertain but she's dealt with all sorts of fogs and such before. Least there not..nightmare inducing..she doesn't think so at least. They have another sort of vibe. She tilts her head and watches, waiting patiently. Though she shivers a little at a sudden on rush of goosebumps.

Her eyes soften at that, "He, was.. full of life, loved a good joke..and company..though he was rather..restless.in some ways. I think. He was always eager to prove himself..wanted to do his duty..and be a hero." She murmurs and glances down at her hands. That was likely part of why she lost him. She'd thought things over ad nauseum for years trying to find reasons and rhymes to things.

He had been on the front lines defending their town, when he got hurt the first time, and been on a quest when the nearly healed wound had reopened and worsed..though by what substances exactly they had never been able to truly pinpoint. It had been a layered problem. As soon as they had dealt with one..another flared up.

"Such an ironic statement. Full of life. And yet too often we see those of us living who may as well already be dead. Souls for whom life has not been kind, who have buckled underneath the weight of their burdens or their shackles."

Hazel lets her eyes slip shut and turns her ear toward every breeze softly turning the dried fallen leaves all around them. Here and there the mist swirls as though there are things lurking in it. Figures that are strange but some that might be familiar.

"Do you think he achieved those dreams? Whether he was able to help a nation or even just one person, it does not take much to be a hero to someone."

She hums softly and nods, "Aye..tis very true. " She murmurs softly, she knew what it was like to live with strain and stress. She'd seen folks pushed to their limits or close to it in various ways. StoryBrooke had oft been akin to a powder keg for the last several years. With various villains trying to take over the town or curse it. Heroes dealing with various internal and external crisis.. and a lot of folks and other situations happening in between. Something had to give.

She slightly tilts her head and watches, her ears perk up.

She softly sighs and thinks for a moment. "I think..perhaps some of them..or at least he tried his best too...I know to me and some in our town he was." She murmurs softly with a slightly lopsided wry smile.

"Concentrate on that feeling. On remembering your brother as the hero he always wanted to be. Let him know that while he no longer walks by your side his passing was not in vain and there are those living who are inspired by him and his sacrifices."

Hazel approaches the bench again. Leans forward and reaches to place her hands on the other's shoulders. There is no magic being done here. Merely a ritual, a prayer to honor the dead.

"Let him know the love his family still holds for him. The respect for the life he lead. Those emotions will reach him. I am sure of it."

She blinks and feels her eyes welling up a little, a bittersweet mix of feelings despite herself. It has been a while since she's been able to share such with someone new. She softly swallows and clears her throat. Looking up at the other woman even if they were hardly on the same sort of power level she still felt a slight kinship with her. In some ways. She knew she had a liking toward her for some reasons. Even if they didn't agree on some methods of doing things.

There's a mix of gratitude, wistful sadness and a few other emotions flickering over her face. Sometimes especially when her more canine side was asserting itself her face was rather expressive. Her shoulders ease just a smidge.

"Aye, " She swallows again, "I certainly hope so.." She slightly trails off for a moment and closes her eyes and tries to find the words. {I'm sorry Con.} She thinks far from the first time, {I miss ya..we all do..} And tries to send warm and emotions she had trouble finding the right words for toward the fog. Like she and the others would do with lanterns and candles in little boats during various times of the year.

Whatever creature Hazel Tasker is and especially is during Autumn, right now she is an emissary of the dead. Their honor is her duty on this day. Hazel is nothing if not a dedicated worker. Human or no, this woman is still feeling the loss of her brother and Hazel wants to make sure he knows he is missed.

"You have a wellspring of emotion. You are doing well."

The torches burn brighter around the two of them, isolated amidst the mists. A warm and homey light, just like the hearths Connor used to tell stories by. His smile can nearly be felt, taking the praise with his usual posture and demeanor.

She smiles slightly at that and opens her mouth and then closes it for a moment. As she tries to find the proper words but they don't seem to come to her just yet. So she nods slightly instead and softly clears her throat as it tightens with the array of emotions.

Her eyebrows go up, her face and eyes soften. At the change in the atmosphere and movement. Her hairs go upon end. The right corner of her lips twitch again, yes it was almost like being home even more so now. If she slightly squints, she could pretend for a few moments at least that she was or a part/slice of it was bleeding through.

"Remember the brother you loved, remember the hero he wanted to be. It will ease his soul."

Hazel's words are heavy, the same thrum that fills the air when priests or monks are chanting their prayers. Though her voice is quiet it carries well.

"You do your family proud."

She softly wipes at an eye with her finger and sniffles softly nodding, "Aye." She manages to get out as she does her best to hold that thought in her mind. "Always." She promises and agrees that Con did.

She half felt a lot of the time that she was the one who was letting someone down or dropping the ball. No matter how hard she tried she wasn't quite quick, smart or strong enough. She hadn't been to save him. Even though she'd pushed herself to the limit.

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Age Old Advice (Seasonal Post)

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