Topic: stories - Brighde

[Brighde]

This is Brighde's story that got cut off at some point.  She asked us to update her posts with the story so far.  This will mean that some comments may not make sense, but please bear with me as I get it all in place.  Posts by myself will NOT be my content but rather Brighde's.

Sky Grunthor

Splintered Reality

By Julie Whitefeather

@ Julie Whitefeather

All game content copyright CCP

 

 

The players so far:

 

William “will” Littlefoot – executive officer of The Hornet

“Frank” – retired chief petty officer from the Caladari Navy.  Chief Mechanic on The Hornet

Samantha ‘Sam’ McPherson, otherwise known as ‘Gunny’ – Best friend of Brighde. Gunner on  The hornet. Former pirate

 

Harry Blackwolf – Minimatar (Lakota) by Heritage.  An Amarri priest. Brighde’s grandfather who, along with her grandmother, raised her.  He has dark skin and white hair

 

Brighde Blackwolf : Strawberry Blonde hair, Dark Skin.  French on mothers side (Gallante

heritage going back to Tau Ceti) and Lakota (Minmatar) on her father’s side.

 

Edelia Blackwolf:  Brighde’s mother. Now deceased.  Of Gallante Heritage. She was French and retired from the Caladari navy.

 

Richard “Rick” Sirrelli - He was not famous, though he desire to be. He was not a “rock star” – in fact he wasn’t even popular.  Quite the opposite in fact.  He was not looked on with awe, respect and certainly not fear.   This last outlook most people shared of him, however, was due mostly to something Rick Sirrelli had in abundance – conniving.  As a result, few people know the real side of Rick.  If they did, they certainly would have feared him.  For in addition to conniving, he was ruthless and mean as a snake.

 

Charlie Dau’fin, was known as “The Dolphin”.  This was  not so much for his long bottle like nose (although his detractors would tell you this was the case) as much as for the speed and grace with this his ship moved – much like the ancient earth creature for which he was nick named.  Champion of the Great Circuit Race at New Rome (a race  that is 100 years old).

[Brighde]

The Story…

Brighde sat across from her grandfather. A warm fire crackled in the background as a cool evening breeze blew across the barren, rubble strewn remnants of what had been one of the largest battlefields of the Caldari-Gellante War. On a distant rise, an aged Caldari shuttle was silhouetted against one of the twin moons of Caldari Prime.

A strand of Brighde’s strawberry blonde hair blew across her cheek, its color a strong contrast to her dark skin. The color of her hair was, in itself, telling of her French heritage on her mother’s side – going all the way back to the human settlement on Tau Ceti, before they became known as the Gallante. Her dark skin on the other hand, that told her of her fathers heritage every time she looked in the mirror. It was a heritage that traced itself across the centuries, long before the human ever came to the place they called “New
Eden” The name itself seemed ludicrous to her – New Eden. Some Eden, she thought to herself. After the collapse of the worm hole that brought them here centuries of war and blight flew across the galaxy; racing the progress of the remnants of humanity to what seemed would be their ultimate extinction.

Across from her the fire played a rhythm of light and shadow on her grandfathers wrinkled face. The crevices of his dark skin, reminded her the cracks in the dry plain on which they now sat. Her grandfather’s white hair told of an age that belied the sharpness of his mind. Her grandfather was the keeper of the oral traditions and the history of her father’s people. Her grandfather carried with him the history of thousands of years, stretching all the way back to the Oglala Sioux of the original Earth.

Grandfather and granddaughter stared into the fire for some time. The younger of the two broke the silence first…

“I miss coming to visit grandma”

Without lifting his eyes from the fire, her grandfather spoke to her in an even tone, as he concentrated on the fire.

“Your grandmother still mourns for the loss of her granddaughter. To her you are a stranger who has the memories of her granddaughter. In the time she will understand. You will always have a home here. With that her grandfather pointed to his own heart. Now, he said pausing, What troubles you young one?”

Her grandfather always knew. It was as if her could read her like a book. He always knew when she was agonizing over some fear. He could always tell what it was before she even spoke. It was a bit spooky, really, she thought.

“But granddad, Brighde continued, the angst now more apparent in her voice, I am right here. How can she mourn me if I am not dead?”

“She doesn’t see it that way daughter. To her, her granddaughter died that day her shuttle was blown up as it was preparing to make the warp jump to the Caldari Navel yards.”

Brighde fell into silence. Her grandfather allowed her, her thoughts, waiting for her to continue.

Brighde like it when granddad called her “daughter” . It reminded her of home – of being raised by two Lakota grandparents who still kept the old ways. At least it felt that way…

“Granddad,” Brighde said at last.

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

This time her grandfather looked up from the fire, and stared directly into her eyes. He smiled. Then said quietly…

“You are yourself.”

Brighde smiled at her grandfather. “Trying to seem mysterious again are we? Or just tap dancing around the issue?”

Harold Blackwolf, her grandfather, her counsel and her consoler, just smiled back.

“You know what I mean granddad. Am I really Brighde or just…”

Here Brighde stopped herself, struggling with the word.

“…a clone, her grandfather finished for her. It is an evil word to apply to a human being.”

With one hand her grandfather picked up an antler from a deer. With it, he poked some of the rocks that glowed at the heart of the fire. “The rocks look as if they are ready now. Are you?”

“Yes.”

With that Harry Blackwolf lead Brighde to the edge of the circle of light cast by the fire. There at its edge, was what appeared at first to be a small mound of dirt. It was actually a mound form by branches and covered with old tarps. At the front was a small flap of canvas that formed a doorway.

Quietly, reverently, the elder Blackwolf turned to his granddaughter and spoke.

“This is what your people called an “innipi” – a sweatlodge.”

“My people,” Brighde said softly. Then she repeated herself …

“…MY people. What will I find inside?”

“Perhaps peace. Perhaps nothing. Maybe yourself.’

[spanishleo]

Nice... (Karma)

[ZMaster]

Very nice ... keep it coming

[Brighde]

Brighde found she could only enter the lodge on hands and knees. With humility she crawled inside and felt as if she were entering the planet’s womb. She crawled in and took sat on the hard packed ground around the central pit, where the rocks would be placed.

The light entering from the door cast a smalls hard of light across the pit. The sweet smell of sweet grass lingered in the air inside the lodge. Her grandfather followed after her and handed a of the bucket of water and a dipper. She set those to one side as her grandfather crawled in after her.

Harry Blackwolf took a seat on the opposite side of the pit from his granddaughter, carrying with him two antlers. Reaching out of the tent flap with the antlers, he brought in one of the rocks he had brought from the fire. The rock glowed bright orange against the dull gray of the antler. He moved the rock with the deer antlers. As he did so, he greeted the rock and placed it gently into the central pit. This he repeated several times until the pit held a small pile of rocks. He closed entrance to the small enclosure The canvas doorway closed with a slap against the tarp and a dim red light from the rocks filled the small space inside the lodge. Brighde could barely make out her grandfather’s face on the other side of the circular lodge. Harry Blackwolf rubbed something across each rock which sparked when he did it. A strong sweet smell filled the air.

He asked his granddaughter to greet the Creator and the spirits, introducing herself. When he finished, he took a dipper of water and splashed it on the rocks. Each time he did this a sound like several snakes hissing and plumes of warm steam filled the air. Each time the temperature rose, but not to an uncomfortable level.
Harry began praying, and invited his granddaughter to pray with him. As he did this he splashed water against the rocks. The light grew dimmer and the temperature grew hotter.
“Speak what is in your heart,” her grandfather said to her.
Brighde felt like she was in an Amarr confessional. At first she hesitated. Then she spoke to the air. To no one. To the universe around her. She spoke was in her heart.
When she was done, her grandfather prayed in Caladari, but began singing in the ancient language of Lakota. To her surprise, Brighde understood some of the words. She did not know why. She let herself be carried away by the words of the song. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds…
…of the water hissing every time it hit the glowing rocks
…to her grandfathers soft singing in an ancient language she somehow understood.
…and her mind seemed to drift away, as a vision overcame her.
Brighde saw a woman sitting by a fire with a large tome in her hand. The glare of the evening sun peaked over what was once the forest of her home in the woods. She knew instinctively that the woman was Edelia Blackwolf – her mother. She watched as the sun cast long shadows over the living room floor. The woman dipped her pen an ink well next to her and began writing in the book.

Brighde watched as her mother rubbed her joints as if her reflexes were no longer as fast as they once were; the years having taken their toll. It was as if Brighde could feel what her mother felt.

Taming the far reaches of space, her mother began to realize, was now a game for someone much younger. Brighde felt her mother’s mind wander back to the day she first set foot on her new home world…a rag tag refugee with her child in tow.

There was a time when Edelia looked back on those years in the Caladari Navy, of the adventure, as the “good old days.” Her mind drifted back across the years. Edelia was distracted by a noise that sounded like it was made by the feet of a small heard of ravenous wolves. The noise grew louder behind her. Brighde saw her mother turn around. There was the same beaming face – a face that Brighde, who was seeing the vision – knew was her, only very young.

“Watcha doin’ mommy?”

“Well little one, Edilia answered, I am finishing up that book you asked me to write about my life, and the world your ancestors grew up in.”

“For me?!”

Brighde saw her mother close the cumbersome volume and handed it to her daughter – the young Brighde - with one hand. The book was even more of a burden for one so small, and the child took the book in both arms.

“Thank you sooo much mommy.”

The child set her precious treasure down on a nearby table…ever so gently…as if it would break if she dropped it too hard. No sooner had the book hit the surface of the table then she spun around, laughing gleefully, she ran to her mother and jumped into her arms…confident that she could trust mommy to keep catch her and keep her safe… ‘Just like always…’

The little girl plopped down in Edilia’s lap. She looked up and noticed one small tear slowly making it’s way down her mother’s left cheek.

“Why are you sad mommy?”

“I’m not sad at all little one.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because, little Brighde, these are tears of joy. I have fought many battles, long and hard, for treasure….for honor…and I suddenly realized…that YOU…little one…are the GREATEST treasure of all….my ‘pearl of great price.’ I would give up everything for you.”

“But you don’t have to give up anything for me, mommy,’ said little Brighde, “I’m right here”

“…THAT my little love, is why I am crying…THESE are my ‘good old days.’”

Brighde watched the vision. She watched as mother and child sat there enjoying each others presence, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the mountains.