The God of the Moon did not keep Coris waiting long. In fact, she responded with such punctuality that it startled the simple craft-maker in such a way that his body grew taller, his muscles tensing over a hollowing back while a sole forehoof slid out a fraction, suggestion a reigned-in shy. His head snapped to the side at once, blinking lightly against the gentle wind that blew and played in his mane. He watched the mare assemble herself from stars and darkness, wind and rain, and not for the first time and perhaps not for the last, noted how lovely, how mysterious a being she was.

All the same, he remained skeptical, as only a stubborn bull can before the display of so many truths.

Her tones continued to lap against his ears like a lake crawling up and down its shore. Though she was not wholly chastising, there was a quality of a teacher looking down at a errant student when she spoke of her precious glass-maker. Coris said nothing, knowing he'd already pushed his luck too far with the first comment, but his mood towards the glaziers did not change.

As if finding her humor, a smile danced upon the lavender mare's maw. Coris wondered idly just what was so funny about Mauja or his choosing of that spotted king; an inside joke perhaps. What came next however, had the stallion standing nearly on tip-toe in anticipation. When the goddess let slip a hauntingly beautiful and entirely strange song, an involuntary shudder passed through the dusky stallion. His breath hitched in his lungs and his heart rate sped up to a deafening point behind his ears. Every sense he had on hoof was straining to catch... what? He did not know what he was looking for, what he was waiting for, only that something would come, something must come. Coris quivered with an internal roil of new emotions, namely hope, bubbling up inside him. His logic was slowly losing the fight against his longing, the belief in this unbelievable being driving him toward a new place of spirituality and self-acceptance. Could it be that she was true and honest and she could, and was about to make him more whole than he had ever been since birth? The excitement of all it left him reeling and he had a niggling sensation he'd be exhausted after this encounter despite little exertion from him part.

An ear twisted. There!
Coris caught the sharp cry of a descending falcon, his eyes soon tracing the dark shape whirling through the skies from a place unknown and unfathomable to the mortal beast. Its wings, such glorious wings, buffeted the air as it landed with a practiced ease upon his poll. The talons, such lovely talons!, dug gingerly into his scalp causing the skin to prickle with an odd mixture of pain and pleasure. Again his body trembled, overwhelmed with the mass of sensations pounding against his nerves, as if his entire self was being unwound and rewound over and over again. Was he being reborn? It felt perhaps he was, if he could remember what the first birth was like.

Tears dotted the golden eyes that had softened to butter. A wide smile cracked his solemn features. Laughter, such a strange sound from him surely, rung from his chest with a guttural ring. He could not speak, could not think, he could only feel and it was great. The bird's mind felt like a warm touch enveloping his mind and coating his heart. He could feel the second conscience beating like a small heart in the base of his thoughts, full of only color and emotion. Gratitude over came the beast.

Knees hit the ground with a hard echo. His nose slid over the dirt, making a line. The falcon, Venati, fluttered as its balance was lost and gave a cry of indignation as it took to the skies. Dust billowed around Coris' nose as he exhaled sharply, an attempt at self-composure. "Thank you, Goddess of the Moon. Thank you with all my heart and soul," he breathed, eyes eventually lifting to stare up at the celestial creature. They shone, wet still with tears of joy, the light in them speaking of love.



The ground below began to quiver then, catching Coris off-guard. His balance teetered, compromised as it was, but he hugged the earth still, eyes widening as he watched the large god sprout. The siblings, if indeed that's what they were, Coris could scarcely believe gods truly had siblings. Did gods have sex even? His mind wandered....

A call from Venati sharpened his focus, features turning up from the dust to realize the Earth God was looking at him with a well-versed patience. Hot with embarrassment, considering where his thoughts had just drifted, Coris scrambled to his hooves. That seemed invitation enough for Venati to return, so he settled quickly on Cori's backside, talons gripping his leather adornments rather than flesh this time, as the stallion cleared his throat and found his voice.

"Y-yes God of the Earth. Though the Moon has given me much already," Coris smiled, ears tilting kindly towards the falcon on his back. "I am still lacking the true ability of my kind. I've studied the leather work of my lineage, and the falcon's talons and beak with be immeasurable assistance to aid what my hooves cannot, but I know more resides within me. I can feel as those I have it, the gift to work leather by magic, but I cannot seem to access it. It has brought me great grief and gave my dam and sire embarrassment." He paused, wondering if gods cared about such trivial matters. It had been much easier last time when he didn't much believe in the Goddess of the Moon, but not he felt entirely foolish and humbled in a new way that left him stuttering and dumb before their regality. Venati picked at his mane with a strong beak, and that touch sparkled renewed confidence in the wayward stallion.

"I cannot truly serve my king and my herd if I am not capable of the one thing I know. I wish to share my craft, to improve and aid these lands in as much so as I am capable." It was true, Coris being a proud craftsman wished to offer his trade to the horses here. Of course he was also inspired by a selfish reason, in that he wanted to be able to craft, truly craft - his rudimentary work without the magic was an unwanted heap of spoiled leather. Yet at its very core, even a selfish craft horse was a giving one, because they made their work to provide for the absence of others.

[Thanks for the clarification Tamme ;D]

Unlike the gentle, soothing sensation that the God of the Moon's voice instilled in Coris, this god spoke with such a stern ferocity that it shook into the very core of his bones. Coris wondered just how differently he would have felt if the Earth God had been his first impression. Would he have believed immediately, or at least been more fearful of improper manners? Coris thought for a moment, deciding the God of the Earth was certainly more intimidating just in sheer size and tone of voice. The leatherworker knew though that if it wasn't for the honesty and blessings of the Moon leading him to respect the gods currently, no matter who he saw first he wouldn't have believed until it was square in his face.

The Earth God began in a clear, sensible fashion. Coris could understand where the ideology of the God's thoughts were going, and for a moment the stallion was petrified with the belief he'd be tasked with creating new life in the womb of a mare, a truly unsightly deed. Yet on further listening, he wasn't sure if he might prefer that over the provided task - to make friends. Coris couldn't quite believe that the God of the Earth had spoken and not his dam so many years ago, shooing him out of the forest and forcing him to play with others. He made a face of disgust, his face creased with a frown. He could certainly meet those with companions, but befriending them was a whole different body to skin.

This would be a long while until he was back here.

He sighed. His hopes settling in the pit of his stomach. He did nothing but oblige however with a weak nod. "As you ask, God of the Earth," he murmured.