Neverwinter Forest crucify me

@Callyope

 

after having been brought into the heart of forneskja and anointed, cicero had been given instructions by the hárkonungr to seek out his wife, the seiðkona. for aid to his leg, and perhaps for guidance. their beliefs and the gods they worshipped were still unknown to him, and while he'd never been a man of faith, he'd need to at least become familiar with their deities. 

so he stood near the entrance of the hometree, careful not to encroach. sólhárr's warning rang in his mind; sacred grounds, only women can enter. he was looking for the white sylph. with such a unique description, he hoped the woman would be easy to pick out amongst the masses. 

"seiðkona?" he called out, respectful and calm, hoping she was within range of his voice.

mobile post but wanted to get this into my thread log <3

not so long ago she had wanted to be hunter. to part meat from bone like a hunting knife. this desire had not fled fully and it was a fat winter hare that swung in her jaws.

she was a vessel for the heart of forneskja, though.

she tended bodies by mending flesh and bone. she whispered for spirits and sought out answers in the winds.

she could be a maker and a destroyer. a thing she was reminded of when the scent of a newcomer drifted to her. the voice on the breeze called her by title. it stilled the stirring thoughts of a growing spirit within her.

hare still held between her teeth by its legs, she approached. no fox fur laid over her shoulders now. her legs wet and discolored from muck. this meal would be his, she had decided.

she dropped it between them and her voice was softer than the wild hunter’s appearance that she held now.

eat and tell me what has brought you, instruction and invitation.

@Callyope

the woman who'd appeared before him was nothing if not a vision. indeed she was a white sylph, gentle and beautiful, though the muck that stained white fur wasn't what he expected. a hunt she'd just returned from, surely. 

a kill she laid at his paws. fresh, still. hunger clawed at his stomach, and suddenly he was reminded of just how little he's eaten. the way his ribs protruded from his sides spoke of his strife. 

she wasn't asking, and cicero knew better than to refuse. he bowed his head, averted his gaze respectfully. "thank you, seiðkona." his voice a gentle murmur. he brought the hare closer, claws digging into fur, stripping it away. he felt...brutish, devouring it in front of her. 

"sólhárr said i should seek your guidance, and perhaps your healing touch. i've a lame hind leg, have had since birth. it's more unmanageable, in the cold." he spoke. "but that is not all. i was hoping you could...teach me more of forneskja. i know nothing of your culture, but i wish to learn."

she felt like a vessel, like an altar when given such thanks.

lifegiver.

spiritmender.

she carried many titles, this she knew. through her sunshine blood into her northern future. how much had she cleaved together by her love for her northern man? together they were creators.

Seiðkona and seers teach much to those who come here. she told him now with a nearly fond smile. if you have questions, the ears here will listen and their mouths will tell. a riddle to some, but the truth for many of forneskja.

but sometimes the best learning is in living it. we will work upon your leg so that you may live a more active life. the winter holds too much for forneskja, too much for you to miss out on.