Larksong Grotto What gods bring

AW!
Ulfric?

She was determined to keep her promise to the young mother of the blizzard, and would, in due course, offer her proof of it. For the time being, a few days after the ceremony, Aspa had set out in search of the warrior disguised as a hunter, bearing with her the pelt she had taken from the young lynx Ayovi had brought her just days before. The skin had not been cleanly cut—it was plainly not the work of a seasoned hunter. There was no mistaking that the handiwork belonged to the sorceress.

The soothsayer wove her way through the hollows of the grotto, her right eye closed, ears keen and alert.

hope u don't mind me!

The trees engulfed the wandering priestess in the shade of their budding branches. Above her, Satori could hear the tweet of chicks newly hatched, and below the quiet scuffle of insects crawling about the leaf litter. It was easy to attune herself with nature here in the solitude of the grotto but Winsook loomed a frozen warden, watching, waiting - for what? 

She did not know, and she did not wish to find out. "Who goes there?" A mountaineer? Satori's ears cupped forward to follow a trail of disturbance through the undergrowth though she herself remained rooted in place.

he is foraging when he catches the scent of crazy madwoman and molding hide. nose rooting beneath the fresh spring growth, carefully picking from an assortment of wildflowers and mushrooms.
moving along from the hollow he had designated as his picking spot, footfalls of the hunter muted thuds as he goes. scenting briefly and then pursuing the trail of the witch, which led him in the direction of another scent.
he arrives just to hear the wary call of a stranger, and appears from brush to lay eyes upon a small, pale woman. ulfric huffs lightly and strolls past. her name is aspa, ulfric exhales a sigh through nostrils, witch of the wilds.
looking upon the soothsayer herself as she arrives. the hunter fixing his neighbor with a knowing look.

You're more than welcome! ;) The more, the merrier!

She had let out a snide chuckle—true to form. How dared he deprive her of a properly vague and enigmatic entrance? With a snarl, she had swept toward the tall man in brown, her lips curled in mock indignation.

Jeg fortryder næsten, at jeg bringer dig det, jeg bringer, Jæger! she growled, voice laced with false fury, before laughing once more and turning her gaze upon the pale little lady.

Huuuum… She stepped closer, studying her through that milky eye—the one through which, it was said, the gods themselves observed. Og hvem mon du er… murmured the sorceress, and with her, the gods she served.

"A witch?" Satori mused in thought, as a man draped in forest hues emerged from behind. The word meant much to her - the druids of old were often mistaken for members of the occult by those who did not know their ways. Her tail flicked intrigued as she watched the woman of the hour storm onto the scene.

So this must be Aspa. She was a tiny thing, not much taller than Satori herself though her demeanour was very much like a snake coiled to strike. Both smelled faintly of Winsook. "I don't understand you," her words hung in the closing space between them. "Would you translate for me?" The language she recognised as Skorpa's tongue. Reluctant to drag her eyes away from the slippery crone, her gaze flicked once towards the bearman before settling, almost in trance, to stare at her one, blind eye. What did she see through it?

he muffles a chuckle and turns hard gaze to the huntress, though it is soon softened by her undeniable charisma. at first, he thought her a crazy loon—and he very much still thought so—but she has begun to ebb upon those walls he wears so high.
little by little, they crumble. ulfric shares glance with the pale woman and makes to sit now, seeing as they may be here for a bit. letting the deer-hide satchel of his gathered things fall gently between two bearskin paws. ah, svo þú viðurkennir að ég er veiðimaður. he tosses back in tease.
gesturing with a paw to the soothsayer, he looks with piercing frost gaze to satori. i am ulfric. a twitch of his brow and head in greeting. she asks your name.

Once more, she let out a sly chuckle. Let us play the game of the one who neither speaks nor understands the common tongue.

Hvis titlen Jæger behager dig så meget… så kan selv jeg ikke tage den fra dig! Men se dig nu—en tolk oveni! Her laughter rolled toward the tall, dark man before her gaze returned to the lady clad in white. Aspa’s sense of smell was far from refined—likely dulled by the noxious miasmas she inhaled day after day—so unlike others, she could not rely on it to discern a stranger’s origins.

If there had been so much as a sliver of space between them, Aspa had already consumed it, forsaking all notions of courtesy and propriety to inspect the woman in white more closely. Her snout thrust forward, she lifted the stranger’s lip to reveal her teeth, while her milky eye wandered over the woman’s face… she studied, she searched, she stared—and then, she sensed.

Sig hende, Jæger-Tolk, at ikke alene vil jeg vide, hvem hun er—men at selv guderne finder hende fascinerende! De finder hende underholdende! Or perhaps it was only Aspa, mocking the scene with quiet delight?

light pp of ulfric, lmk if not ok <3

Their conversation whirled around her like a snowstorm. Satori remained none-the-wiser of what they spoke of, though their charismatic back and forths were reminiscent of friends, perhaps. Packmates?

Her attempts to unravel their relationship were thwarted by Aspa's obscene lack of respect for personal space. The druid tensed, whale-eyes betraying her discomfort though she allowed the investigation to proceed if only to see what the Witch might find, what she may unravel. 

"Satori - Priestess of Darukaal," she replied, anxious in anticipation as she listened to the man decipher Aspa's ramblings. "The Gods they- they laugh at me?" It was true. She was a false prophet. Brigid must have been watching her! Or Cernunnos himself must have set eyes upon her shoddy shrine. 

But they saw her. And they were fascinated. "What more do they say, witch?" 

Sorry for the wait!

She called herself a priestess—the one who communed with the gods, the bridge between the divine and the mortal.
Aspa had snorted with laughter— she had never taken Faust af Drakuraal for a devout man. And yet, here he was, already in possession of a messenger of the gods.
A messenger who had to turn to a witch to decipher the will of the divine.

Er det ikke din rolle, præstinde – at tyde? She watched her still, from every angle, examining every seam.
Og hvad er det så, du gør for Darukaal? Fortæller du smukke historier for Faust af Darukaal? Er dine guder mere tillokkende end dem, der stammer fra hans eget blod og jord? The hairs along her neck had risen, creeping up between her shoulders—but still, she wore that cunning smile.

De gør nar af dig ikke, vær tryg ved det. she had confessed, before ceasing to circle her. She stood before her now, gaze locked deep into hers.

it was no wait at all! <3

First the Gods laughed at her, and now Aspa too! Satori was taken aback, ashamed at herself more than anything for indulging the witch. She listened in furious embarrassment as the man relayed every scathing word until, finally, the druid had reached her limit.

"I try," she snapped, lips peeled in hopes that the ugly crone would take the hint and back off. "I've made shrines, offerings. Whatever the spirits have to say, I cannot hear it. So if my pretty tales make him happy, that is all I want."

Truth be told, she had not bothered to consult Faust regarding the Gods he worshipped. In fact, she was hardly aware he did, too hellbent on forging a path to her divine so she may stop feeling like such a pretender.

"How do you know, that they do not mock me?" With her breath more steady now, Satori came to meet the gaze of the wretched snake. "I am supposed to simply believe you?"

She wasn’t pleased? Let her fume, let her rail, let her bare her teeth. Opposite her, Aspa would answer in kind—fangs bared in a grimace that, this time, bore no resemblance to a smile. The fur along her spine bristled, thickening further.

Then try harder! she had snapped, her jaws clicking shut with force. "Hvis din loyalitet ligger mere hos et menneske end hos dine guder, vil de aldrig tale til dig. Hvis du ikke beviser din hengivenhed, forbliver de tavse. Her anger ebbed, and she gestured toward her milky eye. What had she sacrificed? What had she cast aside in the hope of catching her gods' attention? Hers were deities who demanded only blood and suffering.

Guder har altid været et spørgsmål om tro, she said with a dry, almost mocking smile. Du kan vælge at tro på mig – eller lade være. Du kan vælge at ignorere mig, og ignorere mine guder.

Once more, Aspa breached the blonde woman’s space, gliding up beside her to murmur softly in her ear: I fear only my gods. I seek to please only them. I would kill in their name… and they reward me for it. I am nothing but the vessel of their will. Through them, I shall earn my place in the world beyond. Her tail lashed the air with a sharp, deliberate snap.