Members of the COS shed their armor today as a sign of peace.

Joined with many lesser known faces from within their own valley and friends they had made within the city, toted boxes and buckets filled with small yellow streamers or ribbons. With them eating afternoon sweet cakes, the nameless numbers of orphans left from wars and battles past happy to be out side on such a day and with their own little bucket of thick black markers.

Allegria's normally stern face was one of smiles as she and a few elderly tried set up a bench out of the way of traffic, giving them all something to write on.

Jenai and her girls looked down the winding roads of Rhydin, yellow ribbons danced in the wind as they hung from tree branches, bushes, light poles. Anything they could find to tie them on, a wish, a prayer, danced in hopes of being torn free by the wind.

"But Mommy, aren't these bad for the birdies?" piped up from next to her as Jenai wrote down a name on a ribbon. "No, we made sure, that these are made from very special stuff that will not hurt anyone or anything." "But what if they don't get answered?" questioned the other as she herself drew a picture instead of writing a name. "They will all be answered sweetie, I promise. And maybe, if one does not get answered right away....it just means it has another mission."

Jenai looked at her names and tried not to squeak her voice as she looked to the girls. "Ready?!"

Two nods greeted her as they jumped up from the bench and they headed off to find a branch they could all reach.

"Not too tight now. We need the wind to pick them off the trees when it is the right time." "yeah I know." "yeah we know" "Of course you do." Jenai teasing rolled her eyes which was met with a mirrored set of stuck out tongues. It didn't take them long before they bounced off to go and see their friends or to tease Kerri about something or another.

Jenai took a long last look at her ribbons and the names on them. While she had missed so many people...

"Trixie" "Lauf" "Rae" "Jewell"

She couldn't write the name of her father and mother. She did not know them. But simply wrote, "Mother & Father" like many other orphans of the land had. She figured her case was no more dire than theirs. It simply was the sad state of things, of the world.

"Oh well. I miss you Sisters." she reached up and tied an extra scrap of red by three. She kissed her finger tips and touched Jewell's ribbon

"You don't get extra, you left too early and me alone with your brother, you own me. I didn't know he was so much trouble." It was the only way to not cry, was to laugh and make a joke about it.

She heard her name being called and wandered off to help the others, leaving her wish ribbons to flutter in the wind.

Like the orphans who came with the COS, the fosterlings of Stardreamer Manor came to hang their own yellow ribbons, bearing the names of those the family they had lost. Ebon, Phen and their own children led them there, with Phen bearing baby Olivia while Ebon hung some ribbons himself.

Azure, reading them, looked over at Doran. "Those first two have our names. Why are we up there?"

"They're for the ones after whom we were named," replied her brother, to which the girl nodded with a silent "Oh!"

Azure Doran Elspeth

After hanging those three, Ebon softly whispered. "Sisters of my blood and of my heart. Father of my spirit. I know that you are at peace, and am glad of it. Know that you will always be in my thoughts."

With a light touch on his arm, Phen handed him two more and he smiled as he hung them up.

Hornfel Fayalki

"Be well, my friends. The wonders of this world are ever diminished with your absence."

standing before the tree she slowly wrote the name on the ribbon

greymantle

tied the ribbon to the brach turned and walked off " an attempt to whistle failed ...."

Gabi had heard about the wishing tree even secluded as she was in Maple Grove. A new mother, little could stir her from Beecham House and her boys, but this ....this was something she wanted to do.

Alone, she slipped to the tree in the opening hours of the morning, gently tying two ribbons to the swaying branch she could reach.

Frank Gwen Felicity

One, for a brother lost more than a year before, sacrificing his own life for his twin. One, for a cousin lost to the violence that had taken so many other lives two years ago. And the last, for the mother taken from her too many years before.

Golden head bowed, she murmured her goodbyes once again, leaving a kiss on the names that hung there, and slipped from the tree, returning to her home and the tiny boys who were her future now.

Colleen made her way around to one of the less decorated trees and began to hang ribbons upon it. Some were names of those dearly departed and others had simply gone on their way.

Ribbons for Desti, Cray, Micha, Duncan, and Emerald, along with the names of their children were hung on the tree. Suchevane, a friend long gone was remembered on a ribbon. Wil Amon's ribbon was hung next to his father's.

Colleen search through the basket of ribbon and tied two more to a branch. They were marked Fayalki and Dey. Another pair in fond remembrance of Helix and Brian Girvin.

Five ribbons were tied together and marked with the letters I, E, S, and S. The fifth bore no letter or name. Each of those was gently pressed to her lips; they were to remember lives once held within her.

Names of loves from long ago were remembered with ribbons. The names of her parents, grandparents, and sisters that had long ago left the plane of the living were written on ribbons and allowed to flutter on the breeze. A ribbon marked with a Ogham letter was tied between those of her ancestors and descendants to stand watch as the person it represented had done in her lifetime.

"Cheeks & Tiny, Momma misses you two somethin' fierce. You knuckle heads, saved m'fluffy butt, dig? An momma ain't never gon' forget her lostest boys, ever."

The self proclaimed 'Queen of Mithra Mayhem' kissed the ribbons, and tied them up on a pair of free branches.

"Yggdra Union, boys. We'll never fight alone, ever."

A sniff or two could be hard from the Mithra. "Cursed Allergies."

And away she went, to make room for anyone else.

It was early morning. There was work for her to do, and Jane knew she'd shortly be doing it. She'd be square on her backside, her fingers tangled in papers and phone cords. The fragile plastic shell of her iced coffee cup dimpled in her tightening grip. She was a tourist looking up instead of down. The yellow slips of ribbon fluttered and spun, caught on a delicately damp morning breeze.

"Huh," she voiced around her straw, slurping at her rapidly receding breakfast. "Hey," her chin ticked up and the thick spill of her wavy coffee-ground brown hair bounced back from the healing bruises that shadowed green and yellow on the side of her face. "What the *&^% are those for?" She asked someone writing on one of the slender scraps. Was there a holiday, Jane thought to herself, and she didn't know it' Maybe, her mind continued to turn, there wasn't even work today.

"Wishes for the departed, miss."

Her brow went up. "What the *&^% does that even mean?" Her arms crossed over her chest and the strap of her soft-sided hobo bag slid down toward her bent elbow.

The man shrugged. He was dressed in dirty leathers and faded linen. His shirt was unlaced and he, Jane thought, smelled of vomit"a smell she was entirely too familiar with. The man ran a hand over his bearded face. "Just well wishes, I think, because we miss them." The man's voice tightened with emotion. "Because we miss them," he asserted as his voice continued to thicken. "And I miss my Judith." His hand curled over the ribbon and sniffed. He rubbed a knuckle against the corner of his eye. "Excuse me," he said as he left the makeshift surface he'd been writing on and hung his small banner on a branch.

Jane watched him go. She slurped on her iced coffee until the memory of it whistled through the ice cubes. "Wishes for the departed," she said to herself. Her pulse skipped uncomfortably. The wind fluttered the ribbons above her head. There were so many. Jane rubbed her thumb against the underside of her fingers. Was there anyone that didn't miss someone"

Jane set down her cup and pulled a few ribbons from a bunch of them. She searched in her purse for a pen. Finding one, she wrote carefully across the narrow yellow field"Will. Her eyes stung beneath her aqua colored contacts. On the next, the name Chloe slowly formed. It was riddled with splotches where her pen lingered too long. She looked at the third ribbon. She couldn't bring herself to add her mother's name. Her jaw set. "*&^% that *&^%$.? She tossed the last ribbon back in with the other unused slips.

Cordelia wouldn't get any wishes from her. Not now. Not ever.

The purpose of a tree of memory was not a new one to the young miko that strolled onto the scene. Back home, they were common; a practiced tradition that stemmed from lamentations of dear ones passed on.

Despite not possessing experience, she had already come prepared; stray yellow ribbons strewn between several of her fingers that whipped and snapped in the perpetual wake of her stroll.

She found a branch that was bereft of decoration and commemoration and knotted them up.

Tsuzuki Takuya — Age 7, rolemodel, brother. Sagisawa Yohko, mother-figure, kind-hearted. Sophia Matthews, friend, warrior of light.

The names were few. For that, she could be eternally grateful. But the ones that had been lost to her weighed a terrible, unsightly burden on her heart that made trudging the streets of the city all the more important. To see that those who she'd lost, that others had lost, would not find means of repeating itself so long as she drew breath.

Retracing her steps, she backed from the tree and slapped her hands together twice rapid succession. Dipping low, she bowed to honor both the names she placed up there and the names of the countless others that the residents of RhyDin City and beyond tethered to the tree's boughs.

After minutes of silent prayer, carefully treading through the grass, she left.

Andu spent a while in the shadows on the edge of things, listening, learning from others asking questions he doesn't feel right asking. When things slow down some, he does step forward to place a couple ribbons of his own.

Each is mrked with glyphs with an oriental cast explaining who they are for.

One for those who others led into evil, that he, and others had to kill to save the innocent.

One for those lost to loose lips.

One for those lost, who left none behind to mourn them.

And one for those pets and other animals and critters caught in the wars and chaos of the sophonts of this town.

After an apparently failed summoning spell Noira left Room 23 at the Inn early that morning to spend a few days exploring. With her nose buried in a map and her mind on the dangerous road ahead she nearly blundered into a child hurrying across the road. She stepped back and watched as the child raced to a weeping willow with ribbons clutched in his chubby little fists, which he proceeded to try to tie to that one branch that was almost, but not quite, in reach.

A wiry gnome with wild gray hair hurried along to help, just a few inches taller and tall enough to reach. Noira turned her sensitive ears to eavesdropping on them and the group of children crowding around them: it seemed the gnome was their teacher, and had led his class here to write the names of the people they missed on these ribbons, hanging them in bushes and trees to offer them to the wind.

She found herself moving to claim a ribbon and marker from a volunteer's bucket before she realized she'd made a decision. On one side she wrote,

Mana & Bampa Sibreth

Mama and Papa Sibreth, her parents. On the other side, with a shakier hand, she penned the names of her lost comrades,

Tavos & Grenwal

"Wind find you," she murmured. She was not very tall, but taller than most of the children she saw and a little taller than the gnome. She collected ribbons and tied them to the highest branch she could reach. She wished the teacher well with a few elvish words and turned for the road.

Lingering any longer was too painful. She would leave her hopes and her losses to the wind.

The large man languidly ambled along one of his random tangents, a lazy tune whistling upon those thin lips. Making his way from the cobbled stones to trodden earth he finally found himself before a magnificent tree with strands of golden dancing among it's leaves. Those azures watched the serene sight before him as the occasional other approached to decorate the tree with more ribbons, words written upon each.

A soft chuckle and lazy shake of his head was offered at the strange decorative practice. He'd turn to wander off again though he'd pause as azures caught sight of a small girl struggling to reach one of the low limbs. A minute passed without luck or assistance and before he knew it he had approached the girl. Petar worked not to scoff at the bright eyed look of girl as she stared up at him. "Nee' some 'elp thar lassy?"

The little girl nodded slowly, still staring up at him uncertainly. He reached a large hand to the girls ribbon but she shied away at the gesture. "My remembrance ribbon....I've gotta put it up myself!"

He stared at the girl, a thought crossing his mind. "Ye an' orphan?"

She nodded once more. "Yeah....mama and papa died from a plague, but they say that hanging a ribbon with their names on it from this tree will let the wind carry their memory on and my wishes for them."

"An' sae ye must tie it yerself?" He nearly shied away himself at the forceful nod of the girl. A lazy sigh escaped him as he watched the girl for a long moment before he'd straighten up. A look was cast at the gently swaying tree branches before he'd grab one of the hardier looking ones above him, a testing tug given before he'd pull the limb downward towards the girl, the wood creaking slightly but healthy enough the endure the hardship. The girl stared dumbfounded for a moment before she'd realize what the older man was doing, her form turning quickly to tie her ribbon upon the lowered branch. After securing it she'd step back to offer a prayer as Petar slowly let the limb back up not wanting to disturb the other ribbons.

Having finished her prayer the girl bowed to the older smith with a sad yet cheerful smile upon her face. "Thank you very much mister!"

Petar offered a dismissive wave to the girl. "Oi naw, I ain' no mister....now off wi' ye '....mus' bae better thin's ta dae wi' yer youth than hang 'round a tree all day..." The girl offered another bow before running off leaving the man by himself with the tree. He cast another look back at the tree with it's dancing ribbons, his expression stoic.

"Remember'n 'pon tha winds hmm..." He scoffed lightly yet his feet still cared him to one of the tables with ribbons and pens strewn about. He stared at the material for a bit, a look cast about to ensure no one was watching before he'd lean down to write upon two of the ribbons:

Ills om wary-olytgon Inora Olstriver Me'endevalo

Ys vo Tedonra as Vedonra olkhym bekvalmar

He stared at the two ribbons for a bit before taking them to the tree. Reaching up he secured the two ribbons to a high up branch. He'd step back now, azures admiring his work as he watched the ribbons dance lightly in the breeze. He'd stare at the sight for a long moment of quiet contemplation before the sound of new arrivals brought his mind back to the present. Shaking away his thoughts Petar nodded lazily to the newcomers who shied away from him slightly as he turned about, lazy amble taken up once more to carry him off on another tangent.

James walked up to the tree that held all of the yellow ribbons. He stood as the wind gently caused them all to come to life. He held only two in his hand. He had a blank, tired gaze as he found a place to put them.

To my squad. You guys were the best, there is nothing else in the world I would do to have you all back.

He closed his eyes to fight back the tears. He was a soldier, he wasn't supposed to feel this sentimental to it all.

To Jay, Damn it why did you have to go and get yourself in to all of that business, brother, you are missed more then you ever thought.

He stood back and saluted the tree in general. The only way he deemed fitting to respect all of those lost. He spun on his heals and walked away solemnly, only leaving a single tear behind him.

Ben had seen the ribbons in the mornings on the way to work, on smoke breaks he spent walking a few blocks away from the office and back again. On his way home. Early on, he'd asked what they were there for, and the answer — that it was for remembrance, for those that had died, reminders that they haven't been forgotten — was difficult to dismantle.

It takes him days to decide to add to the growing bloom of yellow ribbons scattered around the city. He picks a far off corner, out of the way of most of his usual haunts. He'd grabbed a marker and a few ribbons, and he'd thought he knew whose names he was going to write on them — but when it comes down to it, and he's standing in front of the lamppost, he doesn't have it in him.

He doesn't write one for the father he never knew. For all he knows, he's still alive — and if he'd stuck around, Ben's life would have been so different. More whole, in more ways than one. But Ben doesn't remember him, has never met him, doesn't think about him.

He doesn't write one for his mother, Alice. He doesn't remember much of her. He knows there are memories of her, locked away somewhere, but they're not his. Lately, these days, what he does remember, he doesn't want to.

He doesn't write one for his stepfather, Roland. It's part because those memories, the ones he has, are the worst of all — and the ones he doesn't have are even more nightmarish. Someone else that's gone that he would only like to forget ever existed. And besides, lately, these days, Roland isn't gone anyway; Ben still catches his ghost from time to time, silent and watching, waiting for something. So sure, Ben remembers him — can't forget him — but he can't forgive, either. There aren't any well-wishes to be made for him.

The only name he prints on a ribbon and ties around the lamppost is one he hadn't even thought of writing before. Somebody long dead and gone, maybe somebody Ben's forgotten, even. Everybody has, nobody remembers, and that's sad to him, especially because it was a child, especially because it was a murder, of sorts. Beaten, abused, died of cruelty and neglect.

It's his own name, Benjamin, that he prints on the ribbon, almost without thinking, automatic, almost like it isn't his doing. It's his full name, which he doesn't go by, never uses. Maybe he used to, he's not sure. He's not sure, either, what it means really, acknowledging that he's dead, in a sense, but it doesn't feel dramatic or untrue. Maybe it's just a reminder — not of the boy, but of the fact that he's missing more pieces than he understands.

For a moment, he watches the ends of the ribbon twist in the breeze, and then he turns up his collar against the on-again-off-again drizzle that's been falling all day and turns away.

The couple left the Red Dragon Inn after enjoying a delicious breakfast of bacon and eggs, and after Victor wrote the names of those he remembers (as well as misses) on yellow ribbons.

Shy, too, had another set of names to add:

Talitha Lee Alysia Skye Jinx

Now those three yellow ribbons gently flap in the breeze amongst the ones the Garou put up; each one tied to a separate lovely branch of the beautiful Weeping Willow he chose for this special occasion.