Welcome to Gaia! ::

Thorn knew now that it was his turn to step up and take his place in the adult community. He didn't dare to shake and smooth himself; there was no time for that. Trepidation was as absent from him as was fear; he was ready for this. No longer was he a child; now, he would be taken seriously. He grasped his charm with his Will for a brief moment, the touch of the metal giving him the warm, exciting feeling he would never truly be used to. After fiddling it to give it the greatest visibility he could, he strutted forward on the platform, proudly accepting the warm looks of his clan, until he was within respectful distance of the Warden. "Sir," he said clearly and loudly, "I wish to join the ranks of the Crafters as my friend did, working primarily with metals to fulfill whatever needs the clan has." Breathing a bit heavier than usual, he waited to hear the Warden's next words.

"Oh ho! So many talented young Sentinels, your Teachers must be so proud," he proclaims loudly, nodding to Thorn and Novastrike in turn. The Warden pauses for a moment of silent reflection while the official interchange between the Watchers and himself is completed, and then he lifts his gaze to the higher platforms. "Those up there, you see them? Builders and Crafters made them, long before your parents were a gleam in their parents' eyes. Many Builders, many Crafters, working together for the clan, can raise miracles." And then he nods once, twice. Thorn and Novastrike are now Crafters for the clan.

The first graduate stepping up, a hunter, grabs Fernfeather's attention. The female is eager to step up and that's a good thing, but Fern also notes the subtle feather dye. The colour choice is a sensible one for a hunter, but since the female is a ghost she doesn't really need the added camouflage. Vanity perhaps? A flash of green as the female turns around reveals an eyecolour that might be a bit too bright to be inherited. She frowns disapprovingly, but is still going to ask around about this girl. Feather dye or not, it wouldn't be right to overlook a possible addition to the team on those grounds only.

Breeze lifted her head with a curt diagonal movement. Crafters, the both of them. “Beautiful trinkets”… really! That slim constitution, those graceful wings! She had looked so promising, a born scout (also suited for other professions of course!) but her innate qualities would be wasted creating… “beautiful trinkets”. And the male, she thought sighing heavily, she dared not think of his potential. It was not that she disregarded the whole Crafter profession, on the contrary. She had the utmost respect for the Sentinels who had helped her create her teaching grounds in the deep woods. Most of them were far more interested in wood, though. Metal, she remembered eyeing the young male deep woods with slight contempt, had also been a small part of the project but it was usually associated with shiny jewelry that so many fools liked to parade themselves with. For a second, she considered leaving. But her hopeful eyes locked on the next female and the teacher listened to her words with anticipation as if the young one’s choice could make up for the decisions of the previous two. “Adornments”. Another crafter, lovely. Noctus, save us all.

Jester excitedly bobs back and forth on his perch listening to the older Sentinels speak. Having never been to a graduation ceremony aside from his own, he was very excited for the little ones. He didn't remember to much about his own ceremony, only that when he was called, he burst into song. The same one that threatened to bubble from his throat in glee at that exact moment.

Now hopping back and forth on the branch, he struggles to keep the song at bay.

In his hopping Jester takes notices a familiar set of blue eyes. "Twilla!" he squawks out a bit louder then he intended.

Hmmm, anouther crafter came up with Thorn. Ah well, he didn't seem to mind and he could probably use to blow to his ego! Lore grinned and nodded back at Thorn as he passed her to sit with Liam. Lore decided not to join them, they could use some time alone. Liam wouldn't be raising Thorn anymore, and they probably wanted to spend a few moments getting used to the change.

She was an adult too, Lore realised. What to do, what to do? Name her martes, that was for sure! Lore turned to look at the little guy. He was sitting slightly behind her and peering around to look at the crowd around him. At least he was behaving himself. Lore remembered little Hazel and snickered gleefully. "Hey, little guy!" Lore whispered. The martes turned to look at her immediatly. "You want a name?" she asked him quietly. He nodded, "Name! Then food!" Lore rolled her eyes. "I'll get you food after this is over. How about a name? Any suggestions?" The little silver martes shook his head. "Alright, fine, make it difficult. Er... Um... how about Bone? Would that work?" She asked. The martes nodded enthusiastically. That was easy! Bone it was then! Lore turned back around, confident Bone would continue following her. Oh wait, maybe she should have named him Pewter. Or Dart? Ah well, it was too late now.

Now that the crowd was no longer focused on her, Lore decided to move. Lore wasn't very good friends with any of the other graduates and wanted someone to talk to during the long ceremony. How about Raine and Hazel? Bone should meet the other martes, and Raine was nice, or at least had been at the theater. Lore ducked, and quickly flew over to sit with her, Bone hopping over branches behind her to get where she landed. Lore realised she couldn't travel half as fast as she used to with Bone traveling behind and her silver ordament weighing her down. She didn't think she could lift Bone, either, or at least not for very long. "Hya Raine!" Lore whispered cheerfully anyway and she landed beside her. "Big graduation, huh? But guess what I got!" she finished as Bone hopped up beside her and blinked at the other martes in confusion.

Char rarely took such advantage of his coloring. Mottled gray and off-brown, terrible colors for the usually gaudy bardic bird...it was his curse to be as shabby a sentinel as was ever hatched. Or, on occasion, it was his blessing.

Such as now, when he watched with baleful old-gold eyes the proceedings of the graduation. No bards, no bards at all...and so many crafters? This did not bode well, when the youth had no interest in learning history, or in making it.

The old bird hunkered down a bit more, looking like nothing so much as a fat, half-moulted chunk of dead moss and wondered if ever there was a time when youth was more wasted on the young.





Penna wore nervously at the branch under her feet, imagining fifty ways her dyes could be stolen before she got back to her home. She was here as an obligation...to mister Char, whom she respected. She glanced around like a nervous mus, uncertain of where he'd gone to. For someone so obvious to the eyes while flying, he had a trick of hearing but never being seen that was uncanny. Phinna shredded a little more of her perch under nervous toes and forced herself to watch the fledglings' choices.




Stalwartly, Kraus cheered raucously after every fledgling declared his or her choice. "Tha's the stuff, keep 'em coming! Good job, you, excellent work! Welcome to the rest of your life!"

She continued in a fashion that was as jubilant as it was nonsensical...and certainly annoying, though cheerfully so. Kraus was clearly enjkoying herself...or at least trying to mask her boredom with a rather loud show of amusement.