[se] that is eternity

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

The Caretaker accepted the gratitude with a modest bow of her avian head, though she might’ve snorted, or sang, given the ensuing curiosity. The Celestine beheld many in its pathways and shelter, and she could understand why; for a world not known for its peace and tranquility, serenity was difficult to come by, and sometimes not readily understood. It offered those vestiges, and so much more.

The question persisted through the bond, and she nodded her reassurance. Yes. And some for river, swamp, lake, and other water creatures too. She sent an assemblage of other images – of vivid coastlines and warm sand, of drop-offs that could send swimmers spiraling down into its depths. Frey would not forget the sea.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

A sense of quiet satisfaction at her answer eased through the telepathic bond and Hadama nodded in acknowledgment of her expertise with the herald of nature. No, he agreed. That is not how They are in the old stories.

Life and its persistence had him turning his head to check on his own chosen burden; the jar with its precious cargo remained safe, but he only now noticed a yellow curl floating in the water. At first he'd taken it for a petal that had drifted loose, but on closer inspection...

He carefully removed the lid of the jar and scooped out the seed pod with its cottony fluff soaked through and drooping. After a moment's consideration he set the jar down and put the cover back on before dragging his large fingers through the soil at the edge of the channel, leaving deep furrows that he shook the seed pod into. Seeds fell with bits of cotton from the pod as he shook it gently over the new holes, and when he was satisfied he pushed the dirt over them once more. Willow, I think, he rumbled across the mental bond in explanation. An unexpected passenger. But a welcome one.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

At the statement, the little bird could only unfurl her curiosity further, eager to hear if there were any other multitudes. I wonder if you have the same stories as us. Or if there were things that differed below the waves, magnitudes of fathoms land-dwellers couldn’t possibly begin to dissipate and comprehend.

Her eyes went to the puff of a seed pod collecting itself from swamp to mermanta, bemused in the way it had managed to find another bout of survival. Willow, she copied, nodding along, knowing the tree well from many books. There might’ve been one or two in the midst of the Celestine, when the enclosures found them suitable for the animals traversing within. It will do well here. Providing shelter and a wide expanse, with eventual, long drooping boughs, leaves forming veils and curtains of shade.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

He considered her words with the same spark of curiosity he felt from her, and green eyes crinkled slightly at the edges as he inclined his head respectfully to the bright, beautiful little bird. What is a story of Frey that you have heard? he asked her, deciding there was only one way to find out what was similar and what was different between their worlds.

New stories and new life went hand in hand as the willow seeds found their new home and a sense of quiet relief washed lightly through the bond at her assurance. I have never planted a dryland seed before, he admitted. Mostly he had been copying the bird's actions from earlier. But I have seen willows along the freshwater riverbanks when I travel inland. And even then that was only a recent occurrence that he had to draw from.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

She hummed, trying to coax the notions of stories and mythos from all the books she’d read before, pouring over them in her childhood until the pages seemed ready to tear apart. That like Rae, Frey could not help themselves – coaxing, sneaking, beings and life into the world. Some that would ravage and savage, some that would aid, and some that would balance it all. Because isn’t that what nature is – some matter of stability? Tipping scales one moment, and then swaying to the side in another.

The Caretaker watched the seed take its place along the riverbanks, where hopefully in a few years it would broaden its own horizons. They are lovely. Provide ample shelter and resources.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

He listened and nodded slowly at her words, finding them familiar - though not in the expected way. I have heard this before, he said slowly, from another human. Though they were not a follower of the gods. The self-professed shaman and arbiter of balance.

Or at least, Chaele's own interpretation of it.

The first part is similar to what I was taught. Life, for the joy of creation. But not always consideration of consequences. He paused a moment, gathering his memories before reciting the philosophies he had learned in childhood. It was told to me that stability was the domain of Mort. Of Ludo. But for Rae and Frey, they lead nature into change. Constant, always shifting. Often resulting in conflict... from which one side would grow and another diminish. He shook his head, his tone respectfully neutral at the recitation. Not skeptical of it, but neither was he adamant in the creed. I do not know if one way is more true than the other. I have never met any god but Safrin.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Variations didn’t surprise her; in fact, it earned another inward smile, to hear more of perspectives about their gods, even from depths she’d never fathomed. Sometimes I wonder what its like to have such power – I think I’d place more gardens into the world. Would that upset equilibriums, and push them into different directions? Perhaps it was best she didn’t wield such measures – the realm might’ve been overgrown. What would you create?

Notions about Safrin piqued her interest though, for the herald had also manifested her layers and powers into the Celestine; combinations of serenity and tranquility Lena would never be able to replicate for visitors and animals alike. What did you think of her?

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

A dangerous question, but nevertheless an intriguing one. The ghost of a smile lifted Hadama's lips as he nodded in silent agreement with Lena's chosen creation. A sense of harmony passed through the bond for a moment; his own initial answer would not have been so far off from hers, but now he pondered further, determined to come up with something new to add to the game. I think... Hmm. A flower to grow in the tidepools. One that would bloom crystals like the cloud mantas have. So the humans would stop killing so many of them. A sense of sadness, then, for the greed of the land dwellers.

Her next question that brought back memories of quiet wonder and awe in the bond as he turned it over in his head. Beautiful, he said at first, slowly. And kind. Playful. But... sad, perhaps. They had spoken of the upcoming war, which may have lent more gravity to her mien. Have you met any gods?

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

She made no note of the sudden cloud manta persecution (not many had been in the enclosures as of late, and anytime she’d been to Torchline, they’d be in mass), but she could understand his point. Nodding along, her feet pressed in idle accord amongst the dirt, listening to the brief description of Safrin.

Beautiful, kind, sad, funny, juxtapositions of enigmatic goddesses who claimed the galaxies and cosmos. Half of her wondered why she’d have anything to be morose about – but perhaps it was the humans she watched over – mortal beings erring every day that gave her discomfort and disappointment. Lena couldn’t speak for any of them, but only remain in wonder – for she doubted the inquiries would ever roam past her lips.

Hadama’s question caused another brief, inward grin. Just Frey. They gave me the position of Caretaker.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

Safrin was the one who had drawn Hadama's attention to the mantas's plight; having no need of their crystals himself he had never considered what the cost of human harvesting in the name of rapacious curiosity might be doing to the gentle creatures until she had pointed it out as a problem.

But he had discovered a certain empathy with them, given his own shift.

Curiosity turned towards Lena's own meetings with and opinions of the gods. It seemed they were both content with who they had found themselves in the orbit of, however, and the merman tilted his head in invitation for his companion to continue. What are They like?

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Frey was a duality after all – but Lena could lend the parameters of experience on the nature aspects; occasionally digging into the dirt again, enjoying the feel of the loam underneath talons. Kind. Considerate. Obliging. But very neutral, in the same regards. If that makes sense. Known to not be so bent on destruction when it came to lines drawn between Ascended and the rest of the world – which had helped the Caretaker in her own opinions.

Until experience taught her something else entirely – but there was no empty, absent mound of land here where a Tower once stood. So she ended it with an inward grin and a generous breath. Fair.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

Hadama tilted his head as Lena's words gave him something to think about. Kind, but neutral...

Which made a certain amount of sense for a god of nature (and sexuality, but he had been more interested in the former when he'd asked his question). He nodded slowly as he collected the aspects she mentioned and the shape of the god began to form in his mind's eye.

Fairness was rare enough in the world to be welcome in almost any aspect, and a pulse of echoed amusement washed back through the bond to her as he nodded. Thank you. Gratitude murmured quietly but sincerely between them Where will you go now? Now that seeds were planted and due diligence met.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Home; much easier on wings or towards the nearest skyport, intending to lift her way along thermals and winds. A particular brand of sentiments that gave her pause and serenity, even when it had been broken apart by adversaries. Thank you for helping me plant. She would’ve been forced to use the water by other means, or hope the swamp eventually reached the seedlings.

The Caretaker unfurled her wings by means of the simple gestures, of longing to take flight and be rid of the bogs for the day. What about you? To his own dwellings, she presumed, following waterways and paths back towards Torchline, under and into the fathoms, billowing in his own freedom and liberation.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

You are welcome, came the simple reply, but it carried a quietly contented sentiment that they had brought something new and helpful to the strange swamp. Perhaps one day their seedlings would be grown enough to shelter and succor them when they came this way again.

But for now the waters of the swamp were full of silt and debris, cloudy and flavored with decay. The mermanta shook his head at them and turned his gaze towards the clean coast, not so far away. Home, he echoed, thinking of bright sunlight and living currents, and an ocean clear as crystal. For now. Until the next call came out; the next breath of adventure or siren song of something new in the world to encounter.