Maren

Before, she had thought to know what the purpose was of the demi-gods. Now... she wasn't sure anymore; was simply ready to be surprised by whatever way or ways she had been wrong (which said something). But she did not believe it to be taboo for the son of the moon to stand beside her, the seer of the sun — or next the sacred fires, made holy by the moon’s brother himself. "Crafter," she nodded. "If you'd like, you are welcome to help me sometime as I am building a Church. It isn’t going so smoothly though,” she sighed, then shrugged, because in reality she did know that churches weren’t build in a day… or a year (normally, at least). So she smiled, even though in a regretful way, to let him know that it was how it was (but she could still very much use his help). No pressure. Still, perhaps it would be strange for him — perhaps; but if he was going to be a Throat Crafter he might as well help a poor lady out and ignore political-religious ties for once.

“Ghe-he,” she chuckled through her nose as he pointed out her obvious curiosity. Which she couldn’t help, of course. But she noticed a change in his expression when she glanced at him side-ways. “Don’t get too carried away,” she told off his blushing face as the corners of her lips curled up. “Just because I confront you with it, doesn’t mean my... gossip (or whatever you call it) doesn't reach beyond you.” And it was true, she found a lot of things interesting. Yet, sometimes it was strange how little some horses knew about what was going on in their herd... or even about themselves. Perhaps they needed a bard. Maybe I can be a bard, she pondered, as she didn’t notice herself falling back into the depths of her mind. A bard-ess? She repeated in sing-sang voice into the well of thought in all different ways she could think of, when finally Mesec’s voice woke her up — again.

Talkative? She was ready to look at him, ready to let her silent, golden eyes, crowned by her heightened, though very much imaginary, eyebrows caress his face in judgement, but she didn’t get the chance to speak the word. Instead, her gaze was left hanging halfway; on the fires. From the smoldering middle, burning gracefully and in most vivid ways, a figure seemed to… grow. A spectacle she hadn’t seen before — But it was happening, so very much happening, as it grew and grew and, finally, stepped from the fires in its winged, smoldering golden frame. And of course there could be no doubt that it was the God of the Sun himself.

She had after all seen him before; twice. Never had she, however, seen him being born into his mortal-looking figure like a phoenix rising from its ashes. And, as a priestess, of course she was utterly speechless for a moment before she could bare to use her tongue again. She felt the kind of warmth in her chest that others got from watching a new born foal see the light for the first time. Her head dipped immediately as he began to speak. However, she could also not help the words that came from her mouth. “If I may disagree, my Lord. The fires do sometimes whisper songs of hope and encouragement from their flaming tongues to those who care to listen,” she spoke softly and respectfully to the heated sand before her hooves. She was thankful and so that reflected in her outlandish tunes. Yet, there was something else there; smoldering, waiting in the depths in its uncertain existence; doubt. But if the flames had not sung and danced in their exotic, mesmerizing ways, she probably hadn’t been able to stand as long besides the fire as she had. And also, as He had communicated through the visions in the fire, the least she could do was to communicate back. She looked up as the God of the Sun asked about the battles that had been fought. She sighed in the depths of the waters of her mind, as she watched the wheels she had no control over spin. There were too many thoughts concerning the battles and all that came with it; so many that there was only one choice for her left to even cope in front of this God she served so closely; ignore. ”The new lands brought illness to some, but none from our herd lost their life to them, or to the battles,” she added, unsure what the God wanted to know; what he didn’t already knew. She thought carefully behind the silence of her golden eyes, questioning herself what to ask. For starters: Why was he here in person in the first place? Was he planning to… uh, stay a few nights? Or did he want a word with Gaucho? And those were the peaceful questions, the ones not related to the battles at all, while there were so many spinning through her head that were. “Such a heavenly surprise…,” she genuinely smiled and it reached her eyes as it so rarely did, for how glad she was to see Him, be in his presence... but along came the worry which, for once, broke through the silent sphere of calm that would normally be there; where the worry was now, had spread into her expression like ink in clear water. She swallowed, frowned. “But what does it mean?”