[SE] Didn't even know it could rain out of nowhere

Iskra

this heartwood was cut too damn deep

Knowing a thing or two about trees, Iskra decidedly knows quite little about Mathair. A tree she is not, not truly, is his one certainty. The rest is a snippets of might and vengeance, which sounds about right for a deity in his general experience.

Standing before the impressive boughs, his head tips back to fully take her in, eyes tracing the twists and gnarls of bark as they reach against one another. ”You are something to behold,” he breathes with a touch of reverence, his hand absently stroking down Goose’s head. The dog, sensible enough not to piss on (or off) a goddess, is minding his manners and sitting to watch the presence of this tree too. His nose lifts, scenting the air.

Iskra's hands are in his pocket, rolling over some of what he's brought to offer her. His eyes slowly trail back down to the sudden attention of his husky though, who seems to have caught another presence here.

---

I can't see the wood for the trees

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
You should see the things we do, baby

Aithne is not what one would call particularly devout, unless of course it comes to Dygra - but this season's weather has grown annoying, and given that Tanau had broken the heat when given enough offerings, the girl decides that she might as well do her part to try to end the scream rain. So here she is, standing at the base of a massive tree/goddess, hands on her hips, as she considers the ramifications of carving her initials into the trunk just for fun.

Deciding against graffiti, she instead skirts around a large bundle of roots and stumbles upon someone who looks vaguely familiar. "Oh, hi!" she chirps, tail flicking idly behind her. She leans against the roots she's just come around and gestures towards the Mathair. "Impressive, isn't she?"

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time

Aithne

Iskra

this heartwood was cut too damn deep

The Ancient that comes around the tree at once has Goose standing up from his sit, his tail tall, but waving. ”Oh, Aithne, hello,” Iskra greets, tension at once relaxing from his shoulders, its tightness having found a place there on the automatic. Too many threats in Caido to be caught unawares. Goose glances up at Iskra’s easy voice and loosened posture, and though he had not yet met Aithne, and perhaps there is a touch of accusation in the look the dog passes off at him for leaving him home, he can tell that she has been deemed a friend.

The dog approaches her casually, reaching up with his nose to snuffle at her hand. ”Are you also here about the screaming rain, or just paying general respects?” From his pocket, Iskra withdraws a carving. It’s a woman emerging from a tree, signifying Mathair, and he stoops to place it at her base. It’s made out of manzanita, a lovely, natural red. ”It’s a startling bit of weather, but I think she is worth paying homage to every year regardless.”

I can't see the wood for the trees

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
You should see the things we do, baby

The man's name appears in her mind just in time to prevent Aithne from being rude, the urge to be polite a habit leftover from her days as a Stormbreak socialite. "Iskra," she chirps, if only to make it clear that she remembers, and then she is crouching to say hello to his dog, her tail waving behind her to balance herself better. "And hello to you, pretty," she murmurs to the dog, delighted by this turn of events. She's always liked dogs - perhaps because she's quite like them herself - and to get to play with this one will be the highlight of her day.

As for the Mathair, Aithne glances up - and up, and up, into the branches far above. "I'm mostly here about the rain," she admits, rising to her feet with one last pat for the dog. "But I figure that appealing to any god's better nature can't hurt." Even if Mathair isn't quite as exciting as Dygra's particular brand of chaos. So saying, Aithne digs around in a pocket for a wood carving of an oak tree. It's finely detailed (bought, not made), with little floral decorations winding up the trunk. Placing it gently amongst the Mathair's roots, she shrugs. "Maybe it'll help with the rain."

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time

Aithne

Iskra

this heartwood was cut too damn deep

Goose’s tail wags more certainly as Aithne’s voice rises and her attention is properly lavished upon him. Iskra’s grin cracks deeper in response, as it is prone to do whenever someone admires his friend. ”That’s Goose,” he informs her, and the husky’s head turns with a faint tilt at the use of his name.

After placing the carving, Iskra’s other hand pulls out from the opposite pocket a spiced rumcake. He pats it into place, smiling as he rises back up to full height from where he’d stooped to set down his offerings to Mathair. ”Yeah, it’s certainly worth the try,” he chuckles softly of trying to disperse the loud rain. ”No, definitely not,” he agrees, features stretching into his smile. ”Never wise to slight one of the gods.” So a bit of extra praise and recognition here and there is the best approach.

Tilting his head, he backs up a step from the diety, his hand naturally falling to the dog. ”Mud, fires, and rain oh my. Wonder if Deepfrost is going to bring something in excess too?” He pulls at his beard a moment in consideration. ”Maybe ice.” His hand gestures out from him, ”I mean like abnormal ice, or a lot of ice, all over.”

I can't see the wood for the trees

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
You should see the things we do, baby

"Goose," she murmurs, amused by this name and the way the dog responds to it immediately. "I love it." While she's never quite understood the concept of naming an animal after another animal, she has to admit that something about it fits this particular creature.

Straightening, Aithne takes her carving and nestles it amongst the roots. It blends in so well that after a moment, the girl has to squint to see it at all, as though the offering is being accepted by the Mathair and assimilated into its bark. Or at least that's how Aithne imagines it, anyway.

"Gods, no thank you to the ice," she says, shivering in spite of herself. "Not exactly my vibe, you know what I mean?" Gesturing to her horns and flicking her tail, Aithne grimaces. "I'd have to go live in the Climb or something. Just stay immersed in lava till Flowerbirth comes."

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time

Aithne

Iskra

this heartwood was cut too damn deep

If she'd asked, Iskra could explain the rather simple concept. Which is, it's funny as fuck.

A laugh escapes him at her immediate refusal, and it's less that he'd forgotten he's speaking to an ancient and more he'd been trying to catalogue their different weather patterns. "Able to tolerate ice and living with plenty of it, I can safely say I'm in agreement." Especially because he can't imagine it'd come in any sort of good form. Spears of ice falling from the sky, or a slow creep that crawls like a beast under doors and into their homes. He already combats his eyes freezing over sometimes. "Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be something weird but awesome, like edible fog." Might not be worth eating, but clouds always look like cotton candy, so the blanket of mist could be worth sinking his teeth into finally, even if just once.

"Does soaking in lava feel the same as water?" he asks, curiosity spiked as he shifts and starts to walk back towards the village, the conversation naturally inviting her to fall in with him. Goose already has. "Like hot springs sometimes feel hot enough that it's like lava." He tosses a farewell look at Mathair, even lifting a hand in a departing wave.

I can't see the wood for the trees

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
You should see the things we do, baby

The concept of edible fog is a foreign one to Aithne, who looks mildly confused and extremely amused by the concept. "That would be better than the last three seasons," she admits freely, stepping back from the Mathair's roots. "Although it would be breaking the pattern." By which she means that it's unlikely to be something even moderately pleasant, if the past three seasons have been anything to go by.

Falling into step beside Iskra and Goose, the Ancient hums thoughtfully as they depart. "Sort of," she says. "It's a little thicker than water, though. Heavier." And as they return to the village, Goose roaming between them, Aithne falls easily into a debate regarding the costs and benefits of lava versus hot springs.

fin

In the middle of the night, in my dreams
I know I'm gonna be with you, so I take my time

Aithne