Northstar Vale "Would you believe my faith if I gave it to you freely?"

@Vangard to bump post counts (waaaayy forward dated, vague times but perhaps a week or two after Vangard's arrival?) pp that can be edited, sorry for the novel

She'd quickly become intrigued by the norseman who had found himself amongst the grouping of rogues that had come together to survive the previous winter.

It had been more brutal than Liri could have imagined but the healer was recovering. No longer did the harsh angles of her bones potrude from beneath the thin paper of her flesh like the posts of a child's fort beneath bedsheets. Wounds healed and ivory fur grew plush, soft and silky as it was once more tended to. Some measure of this self grooming was not solely for the benefit of health; the healer could not deny she had spent extra time with her appearance of late, even going so far as to roll in patches of recently bloomed wildflowers to perfume herself in the light floral scent. Some unspoken part of her was reluctant to admit it but Vangard's presence in her life caused her to pay more attention to such details, though even the northron refused to reflect on why. 

It was not only her feminity and self-assurance that had been reawoken by the time spent in her Nordic mentor's company but also her faith. Vangard's gods called to her, sang to some ancient aspect that called for the return to an older way. A sense of wholeness and contentment she had lacked even in the teachings of her northern homelands.

Yet, even as her thoughts lingered restlessly on the pagan warrior as spring warmed the world arround them - she felt concern brew beneath her hunger for knowledge, her dedication to the son of Odin. Would the wolves at her back support the extraordinary male as she did? Would they turn to his religion as she had? Liri could not ask them to follow the customs of gods they felt no allegiance to - though of course, they would be accepted if they to felt a call to follow Odin's path. 
 
The healer had invited the aspiring Kvasir for a midday meal, where they might speak privately though satisfying his appetite was not her only intention for their meeting.

Some aspect about the norse seemed to revive the teachings of her native people. Liri found herself subconsciously emulating the behavior of the tribal women in his presence, even down to their manner - soft-spoken, feminine, reserved. As he joined the gathering of those who came to call the Vale home, it was natural for the fae to concern herself with his well being - to worry whether or not he was eating a proper amount, which was partially why she insisted he attend her within her home. Anxiously, she flitted about her dwelling like a pale bird cleaning, preparing, organizing, as if the male might find the space unacceptable. 

She had chosen her living quarters with care - given that she intended on residing here for as long as possible - and was rather pleased with the location she had chosen and the home she had made within. 

The stone dwelling was far too open and light - if not for the bare hints of walls hugging the corners of the gaping doorway and the high ceiling, it would have seemed a three-walled, oblong space - to be considered a cave. A narrow stone wall adjacent to the doorway blocked the wind and elements from the healer's sleeping area - a pre-existing raised earthen platform in which the healer had dug a shallow but wide trench. It was stuffed with soft moss, bird down and pungent pine needles. This nest of stuffing peeked between the hides of several small animals.

Few of the others in her pack bothered trying to remove the skin and coat of their hunts but it was something Liri had done when residing in a permanent home as it took time and patience. After removing the head and limbs (as well as ripping open the underbelly), one could carefully peel the hide off the meat in a ragged square. The undersides would dry stiff as they tanned in the sun but the fur kept its soft and pliable textures.

To the side of this bed lay a mat of several large leaves, upon which lay several rows of drying herbs amongst other medical paraphernalia in an organization the tribal woman alone understood. This area was quite obviously her pharmacy of medicines, stocked and lying in wait of some unfortunate soul to require her healing hands. 

A low slab of rock across from the doorway of the room served as a table of sorts - a stack of flat sheets of old bark and a few shoulder and pelvis bones, those of an old elk carcass Liri had found some ways beyond their boundaries near Porcupine Ridge, lay piled neatly at one end. She founds the items served well as plates - some for grinding herbs and others for serving food. 

Two of these platters lay in wait - holding half a skinned hair each, seasoned with coltsfoot and sorrel. A shallow stone dish that roughly resembled a trench held water, resting between the two servings, scooped from the lilly pool just a short travel from her dwelling. 

A broken tine from the elk carcass rested in the wall alcove to the right of the table, where the waif kept her few personal belongings. It rested alongside a cave rock, which resembled petrified brain coral, and a few fresh lavender blooms. Liri could not say for sure why she had gathered these items save that they were unusual, or just pleasant and she was certain they had some unseen purpose - if only she could grasp what that was. 

The deer's foreleg bone - or at least a portion of it - rested against the wall, waiting to be used in the garden outside which she had only just finished tilling recently
The northron darted to and fro - assuring herself that everything was in place for her to entertain the male within her home. At last, as the sun approached its zenith and the time for Vangard to arrive approached Liri settled to one side of the table to wait. 

She settled upon her haunches patiently, dark gaze looking out across the Vale through the wide stone doorway - sweeping the distant treeline as a spring breeze danced amongst the branches in search of the Viking's powerful build.

The confident straightening of her spine, the calm that settled into her dark eyes and the grace of her poise concealed any sign that she felt her heart was about to beat right out of her chest.