Nova Peak [nd] while you damn the dead i'm trying to survive

aw but maybe @Aspa if u have the time?? reference tags welcome to hop in also <3

she and @Lafayette hunted and killed another young seal the night before. @Shadess collected urchins. they packed what they could in the seal's mouth and carried the rest. sea-side delicacies from the sea-tribe, transported here and left for winsook's newest mother. the richness of the sea's offerings would transform good milk to brilliant; sobeille wished to share this custom.

engrossed by the mountain-folk's customs, sobeille watched the ceremony transfixed. she drank in the spectacle of blood and death, breathed in air crisp with gods and magic. it inspired her and made her feel alive.

she wished to know the origin of painting blood upon one's lips; many times she had killed and felt their lifeblood and power surge through her mouth.

a strange sense of separation settled upon her shoulders; these were not her people. so she milled on the fringes of the collection and watched all in hungry interest.

she appears!

A woman, no taller than she, had particularly drawn her attention. She bore no resemblance to anything Aspa had seen wandering the northern lands. Here, there were colossal warriors, wild women, but strange little creatures like her… there were few, indeed. Aspa had certainly met Satori of Darukaal, and many other women must be jealously guarded in the glacier, but it seemed that their connection with Winsook did not grant them access to this ceremony.
Intrigued, her head bowed and burdened by the bundle she carried, Aspa had made her way toward the foreigner.

I’ve heard the sky doesn’t shine the same in the south, the soothsayer teased. Some gods show less. Others, particularly, had no need to prove their presence with such feats. Aspa interpreted nothing but death and chaos. To rejoice in a full moon, in the sun rising, in the glimmers dancing along the mountains—none of this reached her.

Is your clan looking for norsemen as allies? she asked, amusement in her voice. She knew too little of the politics of Teekon. Thus far, she had witnessed only the frictions stirring the north. Aspa knew nothing beyond the Taiga except her native land, and nothing more.

from the throng of people a she-wolf appears, carrying a bundle of objects sobeille couldn't see. a violent and immediate homesickness for chani struck sobeille, though the seer shared little else in common with sobeille's cousin.

she flicked a velveteen ear, listening to the pleasing lilt of her speech. sobeille was intrigued most by what she carried.

i would not know, sobeille answered truthfully, having little need to ever venture south. sapphique's cliffs and the sound were her mainstay; from there she had seen a dazzling array of lights reflected in sky and sea that rivaled the beauty of this place.

she found herself longing for the shore-wind. neighbors make better allies den enemies. quick to answer, sobeille wondered of this woman's probing but said nothing. what be in de bag?

She had settled herself, ears alert and angled toward her new interlocutor, observing with her one good eye while the other remained shut, heavy with fatigue. The woman in the coat, perfumed with brine and sea-salt, spoke with an accent as thick as the witch’s own. When she had grown curious about the bag, Aspa had simply smiled. The stranger had brought delicacies from the sea; Aspa, in contrast, bore horrors born of the taiga.

With a flick of her paw, she unveiled the satchel's contents—a revelation accompanied by a stench so foul it barely hid beneath floral traces. The head of a young lynx, its skin dried and mummified by cold, stared blindly with sockets now filled with an assortment of dried herbs.

A totem. A fetish, promised by the sorceress to the delighted mother.

Have you ever seen something like this? she asked, lips curled in an amused smile. Aspa had traveled, yes, but she had never truly mingled with other cultures. She was a soothsayer, a humble servant of her northern gods, and had little concern for those who lived unafraid of her deities—for such people were mere beasts, in her eyes…

Do your people have gods to please? Women who speak with them, who hear them? she asked, her tail gently sweeping the earth. After all, the woman had brought with her something that resembled an offering as well—a mystic tableau. Perhaps it was merely art? A particular sensitivity to the aesthetics of mystery. A seal.

thinking this woman was cut of a similar cloth as sialuk, sobeille expected bones. maybe a stone of unique origin.

certainly not the putrid head of a cat. her gaze traveled towards the skull's face; the herbs packed into each socket was pleasing in a way that bordered obscene.

the smell did not move her, but the sight kindled a flame sobeille did her best to keep hidden.

not like sialuk, den she thought wryly as she glanced at the stooped figure, as if she were now seeing her for the first time. this one reminded her of a more savage kind of witch -- like the one that stole her tooth.

i 'ave. sobeille unwound herself carefully, knowing now if this one was anything like the crone, it was best not to cross her. the amused smile that hung across the seer's face was dangerous; this thrilled sobeille.

we 'ave de sea. thinking back on the skull hung around the crone's neck, sobeille spoke once more. what will you do wit' dat t'ing?