@MittensTheKitten Oh dang I missed the festival! Would you mind sticking me on the pinglist for events?
I'd also like to register a new closed House-- house Lynx, named after the Lynx constellation, headed by Kaskaa here (when she grows up).
Kaskaa is the daughter of Drisa and Drisa's mate Desmond, as the result of a miracle from the Icewarden. She and her mother are extremely close, and there are whispers that the head of House Leo actually raised her daughter instead of immediately throwing her out in the cold as was proper. Nobody can prove this, of course. Nearly nobody can survive on the mountain long enough to find out.
However they started, the Lynxes seem to be diametrically opposed to the Lions in every conceivable philosophical way. They deal in the small and hidden places, the "impenetrable" fortresses, the silence and darkness. A Lynx's job is considered a failure if anyone knows she's been there, or if her target's remains are ever found. Lynxes don't send messages, they clean up messes, leaving only confusion and eerie unease in their wake.
Very few other Houses know that House Lynx even exists, and fewer still know how to hire them. Their performances, if one is ever privileged enough to catch one, are said to be unforgettable displays of precision and grace. Their performances are done in perfect silence. You will not hear a wingbeat, nor a whisper of silk, nor a single foot hitting the ground. If the performance is in Lynx Hall, the venue is so silent that one becomes acutely aware of the sound of one's own blood flowing through one's own veins.
Lynx Hall itself is a sprawling, beautifully-kept temple complex at odds with the frozen tundra surrounding it, with cobblestone paths and ultra-rich soil that seem to be warm to the touch. The performance hall is underground in the center, but all the buildings surrounding it seem totally empty to casual visitors. Occasionally there is an echo of an echo of laughter, or the crystalline tinkle of a water feature, or the rustle of trees and flowers in the wind, but the complex seems to enforce an air of eerie, mandatory tranquility. As if it considers the sound of your footsteps an intrusion, and is resentfully cleaning up your noise pollution on your behalf. The meticulously-kept bedrooms look empty, the common areas look empty, the practice rooms look empty, but one can't help feeling... watched. For some reason, one can't get away from the smell of wood smoke.
Head Dancer Kaskaa, when she can be reached at all, speaks only in questions, innuendos, and riddles. She is utterly infuriating to try to pin down in conversation, pulling lots of words from her conversation partner but offering nothing of her own mind. Many meetings just involve the client sitting in a silent room, hearing nothing but the tick-tock of the clock on her desk, until they break or leave. Those with a meditative state of mind have an easier time with Kaskaa, but the only ones who seem to be able to read the tea leaves are her two brothers, her mother, and her partner.
I'd also like to register a new closed House-- house Lynx, named after the Lynx constellation, headed by Kaskaa here (when she grows up).
Kaskaa is the daughter of Drisa and Drisa's mate Desmond, as the result of a miracle from the Icewarden. She and her mother are extremely close, and there are whispers that the head of House Leo actually raised her daughter instead of immediately throwing her out in the cold as was proper. Nobody can prove this, of course. Nearly nobody can survive on the mountain long enough to find out.
However they started, the Lynxes seem to be diametrically opposed to the Lions in every conceivable philosophical way. They deal in the small and hidden places, the "impenetrable" fortresses, the silence and darkness. A Lynx's job is considered a failure if anyone knows she's been there, or if her target's remains are ever found. Lynxes don't send messages, they clean up messes, leaving only confusion and eerie unease in their wake.
Very few other Houses know that House Lynx even exists, and fewer still know how to hire them. Their performances, if one is ever privileged enough to catch one, are said to be unforgettable displays of precision and grace. Their performances are done in perfect silence. You will not hear a wingbeat, nor a whisper of silk, nor a single foot hitting the ground. If the performance is in Lynx Hall, the venue is so silent that one becomes acutely aware of the sound of one's own blood flowing through one's own veins.
Lynx Hall itself is a sprawling, beautifully-kept temple complex at odds with the frozen tundra surrounding it, with cobblestone paths and ultra-rich soil that seem to be warm to the touch. The performance hall is underground in the center, but all the buildings surrounding it seem totally empty to casual visitors. Occasionally there is an echo of an echo of laughter, or the crystalline tinkle of a water feature, or the rustle of trees and flowers in the wind, but the complex seems to enforce an air of eerie, mandatory tranquility. As if it considers the sound of your footsteps an intrusion, and is resentfully cleaning up your noise pollution on your behalf. The meticulously-kept bedrooms look empty, the common areas look empty, the practice rooms look empty, but one can't help feeling... watched. For some reason, one can't get away from the smell of wood smoke.
Head Dancer Kaskaa, when she can be reached at all, speaks only in questions, innuendos, and riddles. She is utterly infuriating to try to pin down in conversation, pulling lots of words from her conversation partner but offering nothing of her own mind. Many meetings just involve the client sitting in a silent room, hearing nothing but the tick-tock of the clock on her desk, until they break or leave. Those with a meditative state of mind have an easier time with Kaskaa, but the only ones who seem to be able to read the tea leaves are her two brothers, her mother, and her partner.
