#gael worships her

[ivyprism]

Gael: Oh my Abelia. Beyron: Don't you mean 'oh my god'? Gael: You worship your god, I'll worship mine.

[feanoryen]

What you're favorite female Targ says about you

(For simplicities sake, I'll only mention the ones who have the last name Targaryen but I'll be skipping out on ones we don't know enough about from Daenerys of Dorne to Egg's daughters.)

Daenys - You hyperfixate on long dead characters who did 1 important thing that changed the history of the world.

Visenya - You want to bed her AND you want to be her at the same time. You heard "dark, sensual, unforgiving" and found it the sexiest description ever. You almost see her as a goddess rather than a person, you practically worship her.

Queen Rhaenys - You love a women with duality. You respect House Targaryen's matriarch for having hobbies, having fun with pretty boys, & burning entire armies. You also hate the Dornish.

Rhaena the Black Bride - Fat chance you aren't straight. You think she should have been Queen regnant (you'd be 100% right) & you're a Maegor & Jaehaerys's anti. You have a soft spot for sexy sad women

Alysanne - You love a girlboss who can manage motherhood & a 9 to 5 job. You also appreciate how she's the only Targaryen who fought for SEVERAL WOMEN's rights, not just her own.

Aerea - You're a rebellious teen who had a rough upbringing. Her death broke you because you know she deserved so much better.

Septa Rhaella - Are you sure your favorite character isn't just Rhaena?

Alyssa - You also want to ride 2 dragons (Meleys & Baelon).

Maegelle - You love a good nun.

Daella - You're want someone to take care of you for your whole life, except unlike Daella, you're not scared, you're just lazy.

Saera - You love a girl who serves cvnt (quite literally). You're the biggest Jaehaerys hater.

Viserra - You're incredibly pretty and incredibly petty. You know how the world hates to see pretty girls winning.

Gael - You probably have a helicopter parent.

Rhaenys the Queen who Never Was - You're a feminist & you love girlbosses. You 100% hate Jaehaerys and you have 0 love for Viserys I who you think she should have been Queen instead of.

Rhaenyra - You're a feminist & you were 100% the favorite child growing up. If you have a step-parent or half-siblings, you definitely hate them.

Helaena - You're probably a show enjoyer first & foremost. You probably simp for Aemond who you ship her with.

Baela - You might be a tomboy but not the "not like other girls" type of tomboy. You probably like at least 1 sport though & you're definitely a girl's girl.

Rhaena of Pentos - You love pretty aesthetics & Barbie was probably you're favorite movie of 2023.

Jaehaera - You hyperfixate on tragic minor characters. Bonus points if you're neurodivergent.

Naerys - You're either a sad catholic girl or you hyperfixate on tragic female chracters.

Daena - You love baddies who don't take anyone's shit. You might have grown up in a toxically religious household.

Septa Rhaena - You think Baelor the Blessed was the best Targ King.

Elaena - You like a woman with a brain.

Queen Rhaella - You hyperfixate on tragic female characters.

Daenerys - You love a bad bitch (affectionate) and you will not apologize. You also genuinely have good taste & hated GoT season 8.

[darkestspring]

Hello. What kind of yanderes do you think the children of Yandere Jaehaerys 1 Targaryen and his wife reader will be? So, what kind of yanderes do they have the potential to be towards their mothers? Which of the children do you think are the most difficult to deal with as yanderes? (Daenaerys/Aemon/Baelon/Alyssa/Maegele /Vaegon / Daella/Saera/Viserra/Gael.)

i think they'd all fall within the same category of protective yanderes. i definitely think every time a new baby is born, there's this moment of rabid jealous between the older children before everytually they're clinging to their mommy again.

aemon and baelon have the kind of wavelengths at times so while they're both protective yanderes, i think baelon would be a collector. he basically keeps every gift and every thing he's ever been given by his mother, no matter how small, no matter how much he's outgrown it. he keeps everything.

I think alyssa is both protective and obsessive (with a bit of worshipping yandere) alyssa looks up to her mother greatly and in her earlier years would toddle after her like a lost puppy and then starts joining her mother on her walks or wherever she goes, not even caring if she's in the middle of a lesson with her septa.

daella is definitely softer as a yandere. she's not as intense as baelon, alyssa, or even vaegon. but she's definitely obsessive but she's more of an observant yandere. she studies her mother's habits and learns everything she can in certain areas that she thinks can help her mom. she'll eagerly lend her help in times of crisis for her mom and will beam happily when she's praised.

vaegon has killed a man for his mom and he will kill again. it's okay though, the man deserved it for disrespecting his mom. he's a momma's boy through and through. he's very intense about it though. less "are you okay, mommy?" and more "the fuck did you just say about my mom?" very protective, very obsessive and very bloodthirsty.

while viserra, maegele, and gael all have similar traits are yanderes, saera is in a category of her own. she's angelically well behaved for her mommy but she's a devil when it comes to her horrid, awful father. she loves her mom so much, in her earlier years, saera would do eveyrthing according to her mom's approval and disapproval. men who her mom disliked had their reputation ruined by saera but she always treated those who respected her mom with great politeness. saera would kill a bitch for her mom but why get her perfect hands dirty when vaegon is nothing more than a rabid dog when it comes to someone disrespecting their mother. saera has, and will continue to sick vaegon on people without remorse. nobles beware.

[sonarvedros]

HER FATHER IS DEAD AND THE TRAITORS UNDER THE HIGHTOWER BANNER SEEM DETERMINED TO MAKE THE REALM BLEED FOR IT. Her father's body left to rot in his bed, her nephew's scattered to the very seas his grandsire worships with naught to burn as is tradition. Lord Stannis' arrival seemed ill timed and his words and manner even worse in the face of her sister's grief, for it had been his kin that forsworn their oaths and let a boy of four-and-ten be chased into a storm by the bohemeth known as Vhagar.

"I hope your cell is to your liking, my Lord, and your words reconsidered." She sweeps into Dragonstone's dungeons, rider leathers sitting expectantly on her frame. (Baela cannot be asked to watch alone, nor can she cover all the territory at once. Gael had offered Vermithor's services as lookout to ease the load.)

"You've found yourself in quite the situation, have you not?"

@soulatsiege liked for a starter!

[northern-passage]

Merry Christmas! Hope you've had a good day and hope the rest of the year goes well for you as well. And Merry Christmas to the Hunter who deserves to be in a better state than they currently are. Is Christmas an event that is celebrated within this universe, or is there something else that's somewhat similar?

merry christmas, and happy holidays :-)

there is no christmas in the tnp world, but there are a few holidays that are during the same time of year as all of ours. specifically for gael and adrania (which is what i focus on since that's where our characters are from) the society is built on seafaring, lumber, animal husbandry, and farther down south there is a lot of agriculture and farming in the warmer weather.

so there is an autumn harvest festival, which i did write a set of little snippets about last year over on patreon. this is exactly what it sounds like, and is typically referred to as "homecoming" because along with the harvest this would also be when a lot of sailors would return home for a few months before going back out to sea for the winter. this is mainly just a huge celebratory festival, lots of food and just spending time with your friends and family; bonfires on the beaches, dancing, feasting, singing, that kind of thing.

they do celebrate the solstices as well, so homecoming falls around the autumn solstice, and the winter solstice is a more solemn holiday because it's just bracing for the harder months as well as saying goodbye to those that have to return to work at sea. again, the focus is still food and spending time with each other, as well as doing various little prayers and practices that are meant to bring good luck and blessings through the hard months. depending on person to person they may pray to different gods - Lea's family is devout to the wolfmother, whereas Merry would make offerings to the stormbringer.

then there's new year: there is the adranian new year and then the yulan new year, and the adranian new year is more focused on the job/farming cycle and is called wayland, while the yulan new year is basically what we would call the Lunar New Year (this is what Lea's family celebrates, i talked about it briefly before here) the new year is also when it is thought that humanity "began", though this is most likely not an accurate timeline, and it's more just that over the centuries people started to incorporate the celebrations together since it's the start of a new "cycle," a new beginning, and is such a significant holiday.

the spring solstice is a celebration of the wolfmother and her children as the days grow longer and the sun returns. her children are responsible for the day and night cycles (similar to skoll and hati) and they are returning from their winter "hunt" to resume the cycle and bring in the warmer weather. the yulan new year overlaps with this event slightly - different timelines between different cultures.

midsummer is another large festival that is a bit of a mix of both homecoming and the winter solstice. the focus is on celebrating the gods and asking for luck and goodwill through the harvest, while also just celebrating the warm weather and competing in various athletic games like horseback riding, swimming, racing, archery, swordfighting and wrestling, etc. down south the competitions are huge, while in the north they are more inclined to focus on the blessings and celebratory aspect of it all.

these are just the main, major holidays recognized in adrania, and there are various little cultural differences between adrania and gael as well (and yulan, which is noticeable around blackwater due to the large migrant population) my plan is that we will see the winter solstice and the new year in game (hopefully...) and we will learn more about the gods and how people worship them as well, as the story progresses.

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Interesting. It says on Filianore's chime that her favor "knows no boundaries". Makes me wonder if the merciful goddess, mother of the forlorn that Gael prays to is actually Filianore herself.

[coinandcandle]

Brigid Deity Guide

Who is Brigid?

Translated as “The Exalted One” in Old Irish, Brigid is a Gaelic-Celtic Goddess of many things including fire, poetry, fertility, spring, and craftsmanship. Other spellings of her name are Brig, Brighid, or Brigit.

Not unlike many of the Tuatha Dé Danan, Brigid is thought to be a Triple Goddess, similar to The Morrigan. Some believe this means she is three sister goddesses or that she is one goddess made of three different aspects. These sisters, or aspects depending on your belief, would be Brigid the Healer, Brigid the Smith, and Brigid the Poet.

By far Brigid was one of the most popular goddesses of the Celts, as she had variations across the Celtic world where her name was Brigantes or Briganti.

The Welsh know her as Ffraid, in Scotland her name is Brìghde/Brìde.

Parents and Siblings

Dagda (Father)

Aengus (Brother)

Midir (Brother)

Aed (Brother)

Cermait (Brother)

Bodb Derg (Brother)

Lovers or Partners

Bres

Children

Ruadán

Epithets

The Exalted One

The High One

Brigid of the Hearth

Notes

Though the Dagda has been established as Brigid’s father, it’s not certain who her mother is. Some say Danu, others say The Morrigan, though this is less likely. I personally have yet to find anywhere that names a mother with any evidence.

Brigid is considered a Mother Goddess.

Brigid has been conflated with the Catholic St. Brigid, who was the daughter of a converted Druid. It is believed by some that St. Brigid of the Catholic church was inspired by the Goddess. The two share many features and even a holiday.

St. Brigid’s day is February 1st and lands on the same day as the Irish-Pagan holiday Imbolc, leading some folks to believe that the saint is a Christianized version of the ancient goddess. However, no study has found there to be any historical link between them.

Brigid was likened to the Roman Minerva, the Greek Athena, as well as the Proto-Indo-European goddess of the dawn.

Brigid has also been known to go by Dana or Danu, though they are also separate deities.

In mythology, Brigid invented Keening, which is a mix of weeping and singing while mourning the death of her son.

Brigid is heavily linked to Irish Holy wells.

Brigid is also known for prophecy as she was worshipped by seers.

She is associated with fire due to her associations with the hearth and smiths

Ultimately there is very little historical information about Brigit, surprising considering she is so popular now and was popular even in the past.

Modern Deity Work

Disclaimer - Not all of these are traditional or historic correspondences nor do they need to be. However, any correspondence that can be considered traditional will be marked with a (T).

Correspondences

Rocks/Stone/Crystals

Gold

Brass

Iron

Fire Agate

Warm colored stones

Herbs/Plants

Oak (T)

Rowan

Clovers

Heather

Chamomile

Early spring flowers

Blackberries

Animals

Boar (T)

Oxen (T)

Serpents

Offerings

Milk (T)

Honey

Alcohol

Candles

Coins (T)

Acts of Devotion

Light a candle

Hold a bonfire for her (or use your fireplace)

Create or recite a poem for her (T)

Hone your craft, whatever it may be!

References and Further Reading

Brigid, Bright Goddess of the Gael - Mythicalireland

Brigid - Mythopedia

Brigit - Britannica

Brigit - Mythus Wiki

Brigid - Druidry.org

Myth and Legends of the Celtic Race by Thomas Rolleston via Sacred Texts

Song of Brigit - Celtic Wonder Tales by Ella Young via Sacred Texts

The Spirit of the Celtic Gods and Goddesses by Carl McColman and Kathryn Hinds

Devotees and Followers to check out:

@mrs-k-cottage-witchch

@polyteleology

@the-purvashadha

as recommended by the community.

Edited for accuracy.

[goodqueenaly]

I love Good Queen Alysanne, I know she is a good Queen and love all of her children. Having 13 and keeping track of a lot of them is hard. But do you think she was a good mom or she had favorites?

As I've said before, it's hard to judge Westerosi parents as "good" insofar as they are operating in a system wildly different from our own. This is a system where highborn parents, including (and sometimes especially) mothers, are responsible for arranging suitable (meaning suitably aristocratic) marriages for their children (or alternate, equally suitable career paths, though those choices are inherently more limited for women in this world). This is also a world where the author has normalized marriage for preteen and teenage female children, such that it is unsurprising (if no less disturbing) to have highborn parents arranging for their daughters to be betrothed, or indeed married, at 12-16 (if not sometimes earlier). So I think it's important to take any question of parenting, including with respect to Alysanne, in that context. Understanding that the characters are operating within this particular universe doesn't mean that either the characters or the universe are above questioning or criticizing (anyone who reads me knows I do enough of both), only that expecting the characters to operate as modern real people is an unrealistic expectation.

Do I think Alysanne loved her children? Yes, and specifically I think that she loved all of them (which is more than I can say I believe about Jaehaerys). Alysanne deeply grieved her children who had died (or, as with Saera, were treated as dead), she believed firmly that Daenerys should be queen (a strong stance in a patriarchal world), she defended Daella's positive qualities to Jaehaerys when the latter expressed frustration at her, she continued to argue for clemency for and reconciliation with Saera even in the face of Jaehaerys' violent damnation of her, she clearly felt strong attachment to Gael (surprising in a vehemently ableist world). Do I think that Alysanne wanted all her children to be happy? Yes (which, again, is more than I can say I believe about Jaehaerys). Alysanne's intention for Daella was to "find a lord to cherish her", she argued that Alyssa should marry Baelon based on the love between the two (when Jaehaerys suggested Alyssa should marry Aemon), she brought the problem of Vaegon's non-interest in Daella to Jaehaerys' attention and correctly observed that Vaegon would not be happy with any girl, and she seems to have based the betrothal of Viserra and Theomore Manderly (and, relatedly, the non-betrothal of Viserra and Baelon) on a desire to have Viserra be happy as much as anything else.

However, do I think Alysanne made some questionable decisions as a mother which I'd criticize, even in the context of this universe? Yes. Alysanne never suggests that Daella could have been allowed not to marry (and not join the Faith, which Alysanne seems to have considered beyond Daella's abilities) and instead, say, live at court for life, despite the fact that Daella (prior to being given the option to marry Rodrik Arryn) seems to have been happiest around the mother she "worshipped" (at least so far as the extreme infantilization F&B insists on for her character allowed). I'm deeply disturbed by the way Alysanne (and the narrative) treat Rodrik Arryn's very creepy sexual interest in Daella as a point in his favor for him as a suitor to her. I wonder where Alysanne was as Saera was allegedly terrorizing her sisters and those "dozen septas and as many bedmaids before she turned thirteen", or when Saera at the age of 11 and 12, was regularly showing up to the sept drunk (sure, Gyldayn says she was "less gullible" than Jaehaerys when it came to Saera, but was Alysanne ever sitting down with her daughter and talking to her, or trying to figure out what was going on with her?). Even if Alysanne genuinely thought Theomore was "a good man … a wise man, with a kind heart and a good head on his shoulders", she still betrothed her 15-year-old daughter to a man who was at bare minimum four, if not more, decades older than she was, and for at best muddled political benefit. I'm totally unclear how Alysanne left Gael in the position to be seduced raped by a random traveling singer, especially in the aftermath of the Saera affair, and then apparently did nothing for Gael thereafter (did she try to pursue justice against the singer, did she talk to Jaehaerys about what they could do for Gael, did she comfort Gael once her child was stillborn, anything?).

So, it's a mixed bag. I think Alysanne loved her kids and wanted them to be happy, and I think some of her choices with respect to her kids are pretty questionable and worth criticizing. However, between her and Jaehaerys I know which one I'd give the Parent of the Year Mug (and spoilers, it's not Jaehaerys).

[bywandandsword]

So I was perusing through Daimler's God's and Goddesses of Ireland, as you do, and I came across this;

"Both Green and Jones compare Donn to the Roman Dis Pater, who Ceasar said the Gauls believed they decended from; as Donn was seen as an ancestor of the Gaels and also a deity of the land of the dead, this comparison seems valid. Green goes further in saying that Donn is likely also Da Derga, who appears according to her as a death God in the story of Da Derga's Hostel. Ellis suggests Donn might also relate to Dagda and Bile, while O hOgain agrees with the Dagda association, seeing the name as originally an epithet most likely of the Dagda; he relates the name to the concept of darkness and the realm of the dead." (emphasis mine)

I'm sorry, Donn is probably also the Dagda?? Did I just accidentally end up worshipping three gods of death?? Does Brighid have a death association that I don't know about? Manawydan?

[wood-warder]

Character Summary - Pjel of Qoet

( artwork by @artbending​ )

alias/nicknames. Pjel. that’s it.

gender. cis female (she/her)

age. unknown (100+)

zodiac. unknown (Scorpio)

abilities + talents. battle, hunting, avoiding emotional confrontations while leaping head first into physical ones, homoerotic tension

alignment.  lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

religion. a respect, if not worship, of the Wood and They who dwell within Her

sins. envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

virtues. charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

languages. Eorzean common, the tongue of the Wood

family. estranged. their names are not hers to speak any more.

(most intimate) friends. Lofn, Aja

sexuality. heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

relationship. single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating yet / it’s complicated

libido. sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent / responsive

build. slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

hair. white / blonde / brunette / red / black / blue

eyes. brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (copper)

skin. pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other (grey)

height. 7′

scars. varied cuts and lesions by blade or beast, at least one mark from at least one imperial bullet, typically scattered over arms, torso, or abdomen.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword shield dagger or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

A few songs that remind you of them:

Bloodborne OST - The Hunter

Studio Killers - Jenny

Final Fantasy VIII OST - Maybe I’m A Lion

KUČKA - Honey

Dark Souls 3 OST - Slave Knight Gael

Monster Hunter 4 - Gore Magala

[feygana2]

morgana as an entity, or morgan of the faye, is linked heavily to the goddess matrona of celtic mythology, and also to a goddess specifically known for the ulster cycle as of her involvement in la morte de arthur,  written in 1470.   while i will have a much, much longer headcanon dealing with her link to matrona, especially being that the same deity was linked to be a protector of modron,  or mordred....     i specifically wanted to talk about her similarities with the another goddess of irish mythology known as the morrigan. the goddess is more of a primordial force than a ‘god’ by conventional means, and is known more by her moniker ‘the phantom queen’. while she is linked heavily to the outcome of battle and bloody war, rather than being wholly associated with the actual fighting of a battle, she has more to do with the fate of those in and after a clash and the gruesome deaths that follow. but instead of acting as a means to transport someone to the afterlife,  they were simply a symbol of death on the battlefield to some lesser extend.  

A huge part of the Tuatha de Danann, the Morrigan was also known to have been made up of three distinct goddesses known mostly today as the maiden, the mother and the crone. All of which have a link to Morgana in one of the many stages of her life and to goddesses such as Ceredwen,

The morrigan would often appear in the form of a black crow, which happens to be morgana’s symbolic familiar, and upon seeing one on the battlefield it was believed to mean that death would befall that person imminently. this aspect of the morrigan made her popular for worship by those going into battle. interestingly, in most forms of media that portray morgana, this also links to her being used as an instrument of war, offering her services to the queens and kings of the north in exchange for shelter and safety, or for troops to fight of camelot and the rest of growing mercia.

but the morrigan also has in-depth protective qualities that enable her to protect her people. namely those who were worshipers of these ancestral gods and practitioners of magic, which also directly aligns with morgana’s personal interests. morgana le faye was a symbol to most practitioners of witchcraft and druidism of this time as a pariah that fought against the Anglicization of what would become albion. remember that at the time of her life (presumed to be around the timeperiods of 400-600 ad, respectively) it was when the heavy Catholicisation of what is now great britain, had begun. uther pendragon, and later the knights of the round, had pushed those that they had deemed uncivilized (magic-users) into areas in and north/west of lothian, gaelic and pictish lands.  

BECAUSE OF THIS, TOO,  morgana can be seen as a protector of those who were like her, especially if we bring popular canon such as bbc’s merlin into view, which i take some inspiration from in terms of magic being ‘outlawed’ at the time through penalty of death. fighting against the oppression of pagan ritualistic practitioners all over briton,  as well as the druids of the dal riata alike, she was turned into a martyr of sorts and later demonized to the point of gaining a status of ‘evil’ ...  while the kings who had oppressed or slaughtered these people (particularly the druids, like uther pendragon or his son in historic canon, not in the case of bbc) were instead built of as heroes to the people of albion for ridding them of the ‘evil’ pagans that had previously (as termed by uther) ‘infested’ their lands. propoganda against them surmounted and the britons and anglo-saxons continued their territory war, until separately the battle of camlann occured              [ where king arthur had lead his knights of the round table into a war that would have claimed most of the northern territory in the name of camelot against the anglo-saxons, which had currently belonged to several albic tribes including that which belonged at the time to his nephew, gwaine of loth. ]

almost ironically, this battle is what enabled the bernicians to take even more land for themselves, creating the kingdom of deira (which, in my canon is what pushed morgana even further north of lothian, into the lands of the gaels). the reason i bring up this battle is because the morrigan is famous for taking part in the battle against the fomorians. the  morrigan did naught at first but speak in chant, which caused the fomorians to scatter in fear until they fell into the seas.

another story she is involved in is that of Cú Chulainn, who threatens the morrigan when she releases his cattle back into the wild, only to realize who he has angered and explain his misdeed. when the morrigan prophecies ill-tidings for him on behalf of his threat, he tells her that she has no power over him. as we would expect,  Cú Chulainn is given numerous chances to mend the relationship with the morrigan and botches it every time, eventually leading him to his inevitable death with the morrigan, as a crow, standing atop his dead body as a means to confirm his death. interestingly, morgana was also present at the battle of camlann, which i mentioned earlier, when both her nephew and her half-brother (mordred and king arthur) were slain by a single blow from one another’s enchanted blades.

so why bring up the morrigan at all?                   in my canon/headcanon, morgana didn’t just receive simple ‘fae’ powers from becoming the high priestess of avalon. i believe she drank from the proverbial spring itself when there was nothing more to learn from merlin and nimue and was granted similar powers to the three major goddesses, including the ability to dictate fate - albeit with a price she was not ready to pay. morgana in general is almost always seen as both a victim and chooser of fate, so i felt this was a very nice way to tie these figures together.

[dragonastra]

1-100 on the DnD questions, for Deah >:3

Wow you're sure as hell fishing to kill me huh xD

I'll answer these under a read more cuz FUCK. I'll also try to keep it spoiler free -- I may mention stuff that hasn't come up in game but it would be stuff that might not ever come up explicitly anyway. Everything else has either been said or can be gleaned.

If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead Probably what she had been doing -- being a pirate

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life Probably Maddie and/or Gael. Maddie is a divine soul sorcerer and probably the one Deah is closest to. Gael is our barbarian/paladin who is probably the emotional backbone of the group? He is very earnest and genuine, and also hits like a brick house.

What are your character’s core moral beliefs? [Brushes off notes I made like a year ago] Promises must be kept, and debts one day fulfilled. Clean up the messes you made. Family is more important than self. Survival means not letting the past define you. (Not all morals but those are her ideals)

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings? She has a twin brother, whom she would die for. Their relationship used to be solid, but theyve currently broken apart somewhat due to lies and building tension, and the brother needing to go his own way. She is still very broken up about it. Her parents are both dead, and she has not spoken of much closeness there, but describes them as "they tried their best." Her pirate captain was basically a surrogate father for her teenage years and onward until their separation, and she... misses him.

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races? Not really. She probably doesnt trust ratfolk based on where she grew up, but beyond that? If you're good, you're good.

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority? (: fuck em. She is... shall we say... less inclined to help rich people.

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc. She's grown out her undercut so she has an asymmetrical style, one side of her head buzzed. She is still wearing her bright red pirate coat, but now wears a dark brown vest with purple accents underneath, as well as a long black sleeve to cover magical scars she received when she accepted a warlock pact with the hunter god. Also covering her scars is a gauntlet made by Maddie, so that they can't be detected by Detect Good and Evil and such.

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most? Sometimes she still thinks about that nap she had on the beach at a random island they had stopped at to restock on food.

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? As i mentioned, she has a pact with the hunter god, Erastil. She does not worship him. In fact, she rather doesnt like gods much. She doesnt really understand other worshippers, but if they're not hurting anyone with it she doesn't really care. Their worship doesnt affect her.

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be? Let's get this binch some navigator's tools finally!

Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. We are entirely online so we don't really have table seating. Based on the order of our nicknames in discord though, that would be... Haru, our new kitsune Oracle who joined us to fill a gap while some other players went on hiatus. Deah is uncertain about him, and she is generally pretty wary about strangers in her party, but he is useful. Their relationship is not deep by any means tbh.

What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? Stop the lord of the sea, and stop Aleksander.

Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.? ;) you'll have to ask her

Has your character ever been in love? Before the campaign, certainly not. She's hella ace, and doesn't open up easily, so she's got some confusing feelings right now for Maddie ;)

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character The battle against Tokt, since this was the battle that she was able to help save a person from being possessed by a demon -- something she figured out beforehand and convinced her team about.

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? I mean... probably a fighter???? Or maybe a full warlock, if she was desperate enough.

What is your character’s favorite season? Probably the fall? Sailing is usually good during that time, plus the harvest is coming in on land, so there's a lot of fresh food.

What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology? She would be an Aries based on her birthday! Our homebrew world just uses "Season Day" as time markers, with 90 days each season. She was born on Spring 12, which would translate to the first week of April.

Where in the world does your character most want to visit? She's been all over as an adventurer and a sailor. The place she'd like to visit the most is one she doesn't know about -- somewhere important to her old captain.

What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made? Deah would maybe even say joining the pirates. It was the happiest she'd ever been, but it led her brother to a path he regrets and feels pain over, and she feels a... bit guilty about that.

Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories? The only scars she has are from her pact to Erastil. She hides them, though. She's not ashamed of them, but she likes to keep them to herself... she's private like that.

What animal best represents your character? I always liken her to a hawk, especially a sea hawk. In some ways she’s like a cobra or a porcupine too -- kind of hard to get close to!

If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? 😬

Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? I don't know about most in common, really, but she gets along easiest with Ro, our halfling. Their banter is 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻. Honestly though? She probably has the most in common with Mercy, our tiefling fighter/paladin.

Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made? She probably regrets the party not staying behind in a certain town after a powerful enemy escaped. They thought the immediate threat had been dealt with and that another team from their guild could keep watch over the town, but then that team got surprised by an undead and two of them died. She feels at least partially responsible for that.

What would your character say their best trait would be? Her ability to perceive and track things. She has the observant feat plus the invocation that lets her see through even magical darkness!

What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Being abandoned.

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party? No where else to go, really. Like, sure, she likes at least most of them and they've been through a lot!!! And she DOES you know, feel like this is a stable job, and she does feel good helping people. But... she really does have no where else to go. :(

What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class? She does enjoy reading, though she's a little slow. Her favorite books are detective/mystery novels! She also sometimes likes to practice magic tricks (like... sleight of hand stuff). And technically this isnt outside of her class, but she really does enjoy training. Let's her burn off steam.

What would most people think when they first see your character? Pretty little waif, but that resting bitch face looks like she will cut me of I even say hello (this is by design).

What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) [Googles five man band] probably Lancer. Initially she wanted to be the Leader type but with the group dynamics and her own insecurities and issues, that isnt really truly possible for her. But she still tries to lead...

What is your character the most insecure about? :)

What person does your character admire most? Her old ship captain. Her DEAD ship captain :(

What does your character admire and dislike the most about the player character sitting to your left? She admires maddie's strength and kindness (and to a degree, innocence). Maddie's cooking skills. Maddie's family. She dislikes how nervous/anxious and possibly depressed Maddie can get :c

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? Her lowest stat is strength, and her second lowest is constitution. This is because she grew up poor, and was at times starving and definitely malnourished. Once she was om the pirate ship, she was regularly fed though.

What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music? I've been saying if she was in modern time, her favorite band would be Florence and the Machine. There's just something about the Florence sound that speaks to her. She'd definitely be into that kind of music, plus some heavier stuff leaning more towards metal or symphonic metal...

What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.) She's got the soul of a goth but the hobbies of a jock (in our team's college AU she's totally on the fencing and sailing teams). When I've drawn her in modern day she is usually wearing athleisure (capris leggings, loose tank top, sports bra, e.g.) but also it's mostly dark colors. She's Joth.

What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them? Toby :) just kidding, the pseudodragon isn't an item!!! Specifically collected during the adventure, probably her force blade. Her brother had found it, but had given it to her, near the beginning of the adventure.

Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find? She's not really looking out for items, no.

Where does your character feel the most at home? On the beach, on the ship. Specific locations to call home, she does finally feel like she has a stable place to call home in the patty's estate.

Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people? She's worn disguises and fake names before, but that's mostly to protect herself during her pirate years. She doesn't care a whole lot, but she does want to appear somewhat intimidating so that unsavoury people won't approach her LMAO. But she also wants to be seen as nice by children and poor folk, so she does soften a bit when they're around.

What does your character think is the true meaning of life? Happiness. Safety. Survival. Family/community.

What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.) She's always got a slight scent of salt on her, reminding you just a bit of the sea. For herself, she prefers to just smell... clean, so there's a fresher floral scent lingering...

Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? She tries to think more with her brain but sometimes the bottled up emotions get to be a bit much.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare? BEING. ABANDONED.

What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.) She hates (most) rich people and used to be a pirate, so you can kind of figure it out.

How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends? :(

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?) I dunno man she is just taking things one step at a time.

What colors are associated with your character? Red is her primary color. She also uses blacks/dark grays and a light purple as an accent. She's using more brown now tho to represent her connection to the hunter god.

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances? Maddie always. Then Ro. Then Gael. Haru would probably be up there because he is squishy and also mostly blind.

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos? A mix of pathos and logos is most effective on Deah. Logos probably most of all, but there are pathos buttons that hold away above all that... if you know which buttons to press.

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for? Currently? To bring back her pirate captain. She knows its selfish but...

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.? Her favorite spell is stab with rapier.

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party? She keeps secrets pretty regularly! Basically if the party needs to know, then the secret should be shared. But if it doesnt really affect the group or something important, and the person doesnt want to share, then go ahead and keep the secret.

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by? Dragons probably, at this point. Definitely an influence by me the player, haha, but it's buoyed by an early meeting with a particular dragon that sparked her interest.

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she didnt have life plans as a kid. She just wanted her and her brother to live.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond? That's already happened LMAO. Deah didnt know how to react so her brain blur screened and she ran away from the situation for a bit.

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with? If it only involved herself, Deah would probably go do it. But if it was a huge net loss for the group, she wouldn't, if that makes sense? It's hard to make sweeping statements like that.

Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s? She values her own interest for sure, but she would prioritize the party's if one meant dunking on the other. She knows what it's like to sail with a tight knit crew; sometimes you sacrifice to make the group as a whole better/happier.

What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Oh gosh, uh.... I mean, if they decide to help her enemies (not likely to happen, there are a couple shared ones). If they don't let her do something she REALLY wants... I can't really think of anything specific.

How does your character imagine the way they will die? Tragically. 

What is your character’s greatest achievement? Taming her pseudodragon ;w;

Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal? Hmm... not to a certain degree. Eh, probably not. She only really wants to risk herself, not others. Risking others doesn't give them the choice.

What is your character’s opinion on killing others? She does it all the time!! But if they're defenseless or not fighting back, she won't.

What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage? She really loves fresh baked bread!! As for beverage, uh.... I guess she'd like water with like, something fruity mixed in???

How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know? To the poor and to kids? Very. Also, recently, she gave all of the money she got from a quest to a townsperson to help them rebuild their city a bit (secretly of course. Not even her team knows she did that, though maybe some of them suspect hahaha)

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party? Once again... probably most envious of Maddie!! She comes up a lot doesn't she ;P

The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe? Maddie vs Haru? Shed probably lean towards Maddie :p

What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex? I've described Deah as Panromantic Asexual. She is rather sex averse and has difficulty pinpointing romantic feelings as well, being rather prickly at times.

What is your character’s biggest pet peeve? When people try to dig into something she doesn't want to share at the moment.

Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc. The current objective/situation involves her backstory, so you'll see soon ;)

Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Maddie of course! She trusts Gael, but not with secrets. Similarly, she trusts Mercy to hold an oath to the best of her ability, but not if a secret comes up -- same with Rudi. Ro does what she wants LMAO and she isnt telling Haru anything personal atm.

If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life? I dont want to think about that question and neither does Deah

What makes your character feel safe? Having her weapons. Having her pact/her pact scars.

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be? Nah, she likes Fortune's Blades

What memory does your character want to forget the most? Cal leaving. It's probably her most painful memory.

If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? She's already multi classed and her reasons for becoming a warlock are kind of muddied. She explained them initially but maaaaybe wasn't 100% truthful. If she had to pick a third, probably uh.... fighter?????

What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?) I would HOPE she would be friends with Elizabeth Swan (: but idk lol

What unusual talents does your character possess? Sharp senses and magic tricks.

How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower? It's rather situational. She tries to be a leader type, but she also realizes she's not at the top of the leader chain (and, with her party, at times different people take the head, so it's almost more consult-y like).

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?) The player of Cal, her brother, chose his name first from a generator. I like to construct my names sometimes from different name elements, so I made hers to match the sound of her twin's (that is, make it sound like it came from the same language). Her name is constructed of "Feld-" (field) and "-Deah" (dye) so her first name translates roughly to "field of dye." Her original last name is Shearwater, which is a real life sea bird but also follows the traditional elven naming convention (their dad was an elf). She never felt much of an attachment to her last name. She recently changed her last name to Blackheart, which was the moniker of her captain.

Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert? Introvert for sure

How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all? She would go as far as she needs to, but would never force others to make that same decision.

What does your character want to be remembered by? At one point she thought she would eventually be a famous pirate captain. But mostly I think she just wants to be remembered by those who love her and by those she helped...

What would be your character’s major in college? Fuck, uh... I had discussed this before.... I think I made her pre-law??? Math major???

Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else? Something else. She doesn't really care about that, she's just Being.

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I believe last it was discussed I had picked the Chariot for her.

Where does your character see themselves in 20 years? If not dead from adventuring, then settled somewhere nice, hopefully...

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it? For a long time she was the Sokka of the group, the only non-magic user. Then she got her pact. She's still kind of awkward about it, and at times really doesn't like magic, but she sees it as a tool. A means to an end.

Who is your character’s biggest rival? Rival?????? I guess Morrigan tbh??? Cuz a rival isn't an enemy, and she had a thing going with Morrigan (her player is on hiatus tho). In some ways she rivals Mercy too. A dance of similarities and differences.

What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure? Fine, beautiful dresses. She doesn't own any, because it's a waste of money, but.... she wants them. Secretly.

What does your character hope for the afterlife? Peace and rest.

Who in the party does your character trust the least? Haru, currently, simply by virtue of being new.

What is your character’s biggest flaw? BIGGEST flaw???? Uhhhmmm..... Her secrecy probably. Her tendency to run away from really big, painful problems, to bottle up her emotions around that until everything just gets worse.

How did your character learn the languages that they speak? Common, prucrician and Elvish she learned just growing up. Deep, she just... mysteriously knows. Doesn't know why she can speak it. Draconic she learned at first from Rudi, and then from a dragonborn NPC to finish her lessons during a timeskip.

What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry? Rapier

What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Why must she choose? Wealth, because that brings health and happiness in her eyes. (Because money buys food and when you have food.....)

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves? I know it's hard, but open up more. You don't have to keep it to yourself to protect others. Your brother can be your friend as well... you don't have to just keep holding yourself back for your friends and family.

Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about? She doesn't feel super strongly about politics, having been a pirate. She feels strongly about protecting children and poor though, as I've mentioned.

What, currently, is your character the most curious about? The afterlife. Erastil, but specifically just that one god. Her ship captain.

[inforapound]

The Virgin Queen  Chapter 1

A/N - Posting by the skin of my teeth for @collecting-stories writing challenge. This idea has been in my mind for a while but the prompt pushed me to start. And... as of last night, I hadn’t written anything for the challenge. This is Chapter 1 of likely 8 (maybe more) chapters. Congrats again @collecting-stories. 

Pairing - Ivar and Gael

Note - Angst, romance, eventual smut, historical and geographical inaccuracies, sentences starting with ‘And’.

Words - 1,056

Nearly a month they had occupied the former monastery and at no point, Gael saw anything that would have her understand why a house of worship hoarded such wealth. Meanwhile, many of their God’s supposed children starved on their poorly producing farms and were forced to hand over grain and livestock. Christians…. she thought. No different here than at home. The stories from their sacred books sounding more like tales spun to scare children into keeping quiet and doing what they were told. The hypocrisy grated the inside of her head like a boot full of sand.

Sitting on the stone steps, she peered over the tops of the small scrubby trees. The long yellow grass, folding in the warm wind, casting a dry smell into the moving breeze. Chewing a long piece of hay, the image of his boyish, bitter face floated through her mind. She was puzzled by her prisoner. Seven months, she and her warriors, scoured the villages boarding the Swedish coastline. Looking for a man who should not have been able to vanish. Imagining, such man, raised near the sea would have found his way back to the expansiveness of the ocean. Even while hiding. Perhaps, because he was hiding. Was he a prisoner, she questioned herself? All this time looking for him and he now sat just inside, and she felt more unsure than ever.

Shaking her head at her own indecisiveness, she hucked the stem of straw down the steps. There was no question he had value. That was certain. What she had yet to determine was whether that value was higher than what he could be traded for. The king of Norway was a handsome, charming man. An experienced warrior and far from stupid. And yet, she was still to understand how a country could have more than one King? How long could Longhair and Ironside rule autonomously? Amicably? Fighting for glory was a bottomless cup and these Vikings, she had noticed, were a thirsty bunch. Like her, they called themselves pagans, but she saw nothing in them that mirrored her own beliefs.

Breathing in deeply, she exhaled pushing every bit of air out of her lungs. Forcing her shoulders to lower and hopefully, expel the tension of the grueling hunt. Smoking a bear out of its den was one thing. Locating a former mastermind king was another. In the end, it was not his supposed boneless legs that gave him away. All but ready to give up her search that very morning, her eyes caught on the slight movement of a wooden shutter on a locked-up blacksmith’s. Just one brilliant blue eye staring back at her from inside the dark hut.

It would be impossible to count the number of times she had pictured those eyes. The rich blue, with a depth that reminded Gael of the sensation that rushed to her feet when standing too close to a cliffside. It was over a year ago that those sparkling eyes and that sour face had first appeared in her dreams. And here she sat, on the front steps, held down by a heavy blanket of avoidance.

---

Walking into the dimly lit dining room, she found him sitting, eating, at one end of the long table. He was looking at her from over the rim of his goblet, filled with Christian wine like she was intruding on his solitude. Stopping at the opposite end of the table, she rested her hands on the back of a tall chair. Waiting. Placing his cup down, his eyes narrowed taking her in. Assessing her. Skipping over the soft features of her kind face looking for weakness. Access in. She could see his mind working to figure out who she was and what her plans were. There was no question he must be confused. Dragged like a hog on his belly out of that shack, he was now being fed like an honoured visitor.

Running her tongue across her lower lip, she tipped her head to one side just as he had before addressing her.

“Am I a prisoner?” he asked in a calm voice, cocking his head to the other side. Testing her resolve.

His voice was smooth yet raspy and somehow felt like a whisper in her ear. She wondered why he spoke to her in English rather than Norse but regardless, she did not immediately respond. She was in charge here.

“That will be up to you?” she replied, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

His brows pinched further despite his best efforts to remain neutral.

Walking down the side of the table toward him, she watched his calculating blues track every one of her movements. Subtly scanning the corners of the room looking for concealed guards. There were none.

Stopping two seats from his, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Again, meeting his gaze, she figured he was taking note of the absence of her fear along with her poise, unwavering eyes and the way she rested her wrists casually on the arms of the chair. Sweeping his gaze from her face to her chest, down to her crossed legs and back to her hands, she knew he was looking for signs. Jewelry. Runes. Markings. Anything that might give him insight.

There it was. She saw it. That flash of recognition on his face. There was no way for him to know who she was but he, without question, knew she was a queen.

“What are you looking at?” he spat. A little more venom reaching the surface.

“I am trying to decide?” she finally answered in a soft voice. Her face giving nothing away.

His weakness was glaring. It would be spotted a battlefield away. Or a dining room as it were. It was what made him guarded and insecure. Aggressive. She possessed the very same trait. In her, however, it bridged the barrier between herself and her people. Herself and her loyal warriors. Herself and her Gods. It was humility. Who would Ivar the Boneless be, she wondered, if there had been nothing to prove?

“Decide what?” he questioned.  

Reaching up behind her head, she swept her long red hair over to rest down one shoulder. Placing a hand on the table between them, she leaned forward, eyeing him straight on, and whispered, “you or Harald.”

MASTERLIST

@flowers-in-your-hayr @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @yanii-the-hippie @medievalfangirl @fangirl-nonsense @tephi101 @waiting4inspiration @readsalot73 @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @geekandbooknerd @lol-haha-joke @jaydelesley4 @equalstrashflavoredtrash @thiahilmarsdottir

[lothson]

to note: irish and scots gaelic traditions were closely linked as the two cultures were not all that difference in the 6th century. most of ireland and the western coast of scotland spoke the same form of gaelic and worshipped the same gods and witnessed the same celebrations. welsh traditions weren’t the same, and although they often shared a link (gods that ruled the same things or celebrations that covered the same time periods) they were often observed differently or had different names with slight variations, and cannot be considered the same religion. it’s also important to note that some of the gods thought to be irish/scottish are in fact gaulish, the european celtic pantheon, closer to germanic. the picts also celebrated a tradition much like ulster & gaelic tradition, but barely any of this history was recorded and can only be assumed from what their neighbours worship--pictish tradition was all but wiped out by invasions from the vikings in the 8th and 9th century. these are just my notes on the traditions that mordred, the druids, and those within the surrounding areas (the gaels & ireland and northern most parts of hen ogledd) would have practised.

THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR (gaelic festivals and traditions)

IMBOLC,  or Là Fhèill Brìghde in Scot’s gaelic (the beginning of spring) is observed in gaelic tradition and is a festival thrown about halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. it was celebrated by the ancient irish & scots. it was christianized as a festival of saint brigid later. it would be celebrated by feasting and was associated with the spring sowing and the blooming of blackthorn. it also involved lighting heartfires, divination, and watching for omens. candles and bonfires would also be lit. fire and purification were an important part of the festival. one might also visit a holy well, where one would make offerings to the gods in the form of a coin or item of clothing, by throwing it into the well. offerings would be made to the earth or the sea.  ALBAN EILER, meaning rock and light as light of the earth, (the spring equinox ) is observed in scots tradition around march. it’s equivalent in christianization is easter. one would take the eggs of birds just laid, colour them, and then eat them in celebration of the emergence of the son from the womb and the goddess. the mother goddess boand and the father dagda would be celebrated here, or lugh--a warrior god and son of boand. gaelic gods now considered simply as “irish” gods. it was also considered a strong time for magic. BEALLTAINN, the festival of fire (the beginning of summer). it is the biggest and most important festival of the year as it was the start of the harvesting season and the end of the dark half of the year and the coming of the light. fires would be lit, especially by the druids as massive bonfires (which was later assumed by the romans to be some kind of ritual sacrifice.) once again this time of the year was thought to flow with magic and supernatural forces such as the fae could pass in and out of the mortal world. as was the case with most changes of the season. small amounts of animal blood would also be sacrifices to the gods and milk poured over thresholds to placate the fairies. hawthorn and rowan sprigs would be placed around structure and on horns of cows to ensure they kept producing milk and calves. the colour yellow was also important. it was also a time where one would avoid strangers and refuse requests or offers to share, the opposite being the norm in the society, to protect personal fortune and belongings. it is thought that the god belanos, the sun god, was worshipped at this time. the romans associated this god with apollo.  ALBAN HEFIN, the light of the shore, midsummer’s day (the summer solstice) here it was celebrated the longest day and the shortest night of the year and thus, another fire/light festival. bonfires were lit on the sides of the roads to provide light to revelers and to ward off evil. people would jump through the fires for good luck. streets were lined in lanterns. this night was second only to halloween for its importance to the fae and folk may risk attempting to see them. this was also the time of year where some would travel to the henges, stones placed by druids the attune with the sun upon its rise as it allowed them to connect with the movement of the sun across the sky. the standing stones were and still are important sacred ritual places for celebrating the sun.

LUGHNASADH, lúnastal in scot’s gaelic (the beginning of harvest) named after lugh as autumn was his month and this festival was hosted on the first of august. roughly the name translates into lugh’s assembly. lúnasa is the name for the month of august. the lughnasadh festival is begun by the god lugh as a funeral feast and athletic competition in commemoration of his foster-mother tailtiu. the games would incorporate such things as horse racing, music, story telling, trading, sporting contests, and ritual athletics. this is also to give lugh strength, as lugh must defeat the god crom dubh for his grain as treasure. ALBAN ELFED, the light of the water (the autumn equinox), this is a time of balance, where the day and the night are equal. the goddess is thanked for a bountiful harvest. this day was observed as the waning of the goddess, where she would rest before rising again in the spring. it was the beginning of the darkness. one would spend their day mourning the fallen goddess, placing dried plants upon her altar. one would thank the earth as mother and giver for the second harvest before autumn begins. 

SAMHAIN, the beginning of winter (the festival of the dead) around the 31st of october the gaels would honour their dead. it was a festival of remembrance and honouring of the departed. the veil that separates worlds is thinnest at this time of the year, so the world of mortals, the realm of the fae, and the realm of the dead, blend as one. it is at its purest a night of wonder and magic. the crone, the cailleach, the diving creator, and also known as the queen of winter, comes to strip the leaves from its trees and quicken the decay of flesh so that new life may come. it is also a time to ask the crone to take the unwanted away from our years.  time loses all meaning at samhain, the past and present and future are one. the dead walk amongst the living. winter is the season of ghosts. many would light bonfires to keep the evil at bay. a torch was often lit and carried around the boundaries of home to protect the property. the dead would be appeased with a supper, served in silence, with an empty place set at the ehad of the table for the ancestors. none would look directly at the seat for it would bring misfortune. the untouched plate and cup would be left in the woods later. 

ALBAN ARTHAN, the light of winter (the winter solstice) it is believed amongst some orders of druids that this time of year king arthur pendragon is symbolically reborn as the “sun child” but it is more realistically the light of the great bear (a constellation also known now as the plough) as art is gaelic for bear. at this time of year the bear shines the brightest as the sun is at its lowest point and the days are at its shortest. this is the time that the wheel of the year revolves beyond death and returns towards new light and new life. traditionally a log would be burnt in the central fireplace which must come from one’s own land or be a gift and cannot be purchased. it is lighted with the remaining piece of the log from the year before and thus light is passed from one year unto another. it should burn slowly in the fire place for 12 days before being extinguished and the ashes stowed. one would also take a live tree into the home so that the fae of the woods would have a place to keep warm during the winter. bells were hung upon the branches so one might know if the fae were present. food and treats would be left on the branches for the fae to eat. 

[northern-passage]

Hello! I guess it could be considered as spoiler, but I was wondering, could you share a little more about the gods of Northern Passage? And I know we can choose if our mc is religious or not, but will we be able to also choose which deity they "follow"?.

this is something that will very slowly be revealed throughout the story, but i can give a basic rundown on all the gods we've seen so far. also, as for your last question, you will not get to choose your deity… they've already chosen you 😇

specifically for these gods, these are the northern beliefs; it varies a little between north and south, and most of northern Adrania's beliefs are influenced by Gael. the Wolfmother and all her children are universal deities, while the Stormbringer is depicted differently down south, as well as the Messenger and the Traveler.

The Wolfmother: she is Thee main god, the creator, and is depicted in the form of a large wolf. most people worship her alongside a smaller deity that is typically specific to them (like Merry worshipping the Stormbringer since she spends a lot of time at sea). the story goes that the Wolfmother discovered humanity after they stumbled out of the sea, and raised them alongside her two wolf children, and humanity owes their existence to her; otherwise they would have drowned in the sea.

The Sun & The Moon (no official name yet because i'm bad at coming up with names): these are the twins of the Wolfmother and are also depicted as wolves, with one representing the sun and the other representing the moon. you can see them in the temple with Lea in ch1. i pulled a lot of inspiration for the Wolfmother's children from Skoll and Hati in norse mythology. though unlike those wolves, these wolves are essentially responsible for the sun and moon, and make sure they rise each day and night, and do so to ensure humanity's survival; they see humanity as their sibling.

The Firstborn: depicted as a white wolf, you can also see this one in the temple with Lea. they are considered a malevolent deity and was the first born of the Wolfmother, before the twins, and they did something that resulted in eternal punishment. they are typically worshipped alongside the Stormbringer, though “worship” is used loosely. more like people pray to them out of fear, and to appease them. the Firstborn represents the sea, though most of their power has been lost over time as a part of their punishment.

The Stormbringer: the Stormbringer is another sea god, though lesser than the Firstborn. goddess of stormy seas & is usually worshipped by pirates, sailors, fisherman, etc. she's a bit of a cross between a selkie and nokken. she's a kind of “chaotic neutral” god.. though most of these gods fall into that category, i suppose. in the south, she goes by a different name and is depicted more as a mermaid/siren.

The Messenger: the god of omens and death. typically depicted as an anthropomorphic crow with many eyes, it manifests as various animals including flocks of crows, wolves, and deer. In the north, this god is seen as a benign deity, but down south it's considered malevolent and it's believed that seeing an omen is a curse. the messenger is responsible for sending omens and essentially bringing death - think like the grim reaper.

The Traveler: this is a polarizing deity with some people considering them a cruel trickster god while other people see them as a benign and kind deity. their story is told in game by clementine; this god is one of the few that is actually recorded as being mortal once, and after death they became a god, though it's unknown how. they're depicted as a man with the head of a jackal, and they wear humble travel clothes with bells sewn into their cloak. they like to play tricks on people, a bit “childish” but ultimately they're the god of wanderers and lost souls. after the Messenger brings death the Traveler comes in after and ensures the souls of the dead find their way home (but only after tricking them a few times first) i imagine the traveler to be worshipped by people that live on the road and don't really have a place to call home.

there are various other minor gods throughout Adrania and Gael, though these are the main players that will be relevant in game. there are two other major gods we'll learn about (tentatively) in ch3.

[splat-dragon]

“Why-” why what? Even Lem didn’t know. Why was she singing? Why hadn’t she kicked him out? Why had she been so touchy? Why had she tried to teach him to play? There were a lot of why’s there though, knowing Evan, he was almost certain he wouldn’t get an answer.

And he was right. She simply give him a grin that stopped him, more sincere than he’d ever gotten from her before, a soft one that eased the fierceness of those green eyes of her’s, and stood, taking the guitar after his hands, patting his shoulder as she passed him by, leaving the guitar leaning against the wall as she left.

The versions of the songs I wrote this to were: Chase Eagleson's cover of Fly Me to the Moon which can be watched her Sean Reaves' cover of Can't Help Falling in Love which can be watched here   and Annapatsu's cover of Remember Me which can be watched here 

Don't let it make you cry Recuérdame  ~Remember Me, Gael García Bernal

They’d closed the speakeasy down for the day, and it was finally quiet.

 That wasn’t to say that Lem didn’t like the speakeasy—when it was open he’d sometimes go down for a drink, sit and watch the band that Evan had paid for, play bouncer in case someone got a bit too drunk and rowdy (thankfully, though, Evan always stepped in before folk got out of hand, because people tended not to take him seriously), and even when he wasn’t, he was often helping Marcel with the shine or upstairs with his Aunt Maggie, so the noise didn’t bother him.

 But sometimes, every once in a while, some quiet was nice.

Aunt Maggie had gone off somewhere—she’d told him she was heading to Keane’s Saloon to broker a better deal, but he’d eat his hat if he wouldn’t find her with Cripps, and Marcel was off trying to find some ingredients that he’d sworn up and down would make the shine even more ‘magnifique’ than usual, as the man had put it. So it was just him at the shack, and he was taking the time to do absolutely nothing, just sit on his ass, kick back and relax without Aunt Maggie yanking at his ear to get him back to working.

 But maybe it wasn’t his best idea—as they always seemed to lately, despite his best efforts, his thoughts went quickly to their benefactor, the woman that had rescued him, saved his life more than once, that was funding their operations and doing all the grunt work, was more or less family.

 She called herself Evan, though knowing the sort of people his Aunt tended to attract, he’d wager it was fifty-fifty that that wasn’t her real name or, at least, the one her parents had given her. And she wasn’t what most would call attractive, with wild black hair that never laid flat despite her attempts at a ponytail or braid, scars nicking here and there on her face and, he was sure, all over her skin beneath her clothing. Her green eyes, he knew, would have been a ‘marketable feature’ on a bride, if they weren’t half so hard, wolfish in their way, and though he’d known her for the better part of a year he still couldn’t meet her gaze without feeling like he was staring into something wild and untamed, something he should be meeting out in the depths of the woods, moments before having his throat torn out, not standing in the midst of a bunch of drunkards in his Aunt’s basement. Beneath them, always, his eyes were drawn to that scar that gleamed on her cheek, raw, vein-like and painful-looking though it was several months healed. It was entirely his fault—he’d lost his temper and exploded a great deal of flammable moonshine, and she’d paid the price. The scar, he knew, stretched deep beneath her clothes, and would never quite heal, and he could only thank a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she hadn’t landed that bit further into the flames, that her eye hadn’t paid the price for his foolishness.

 He’d been interested by her since she’d saved him, putting down seemingly endless amounts of Revenue Agents as though they were little more than squirrels that she were taking pot shots off of her porch at, before protecting him all the way from half way across New Hanover to the Grizzlies, shooting easily from her horse’s back despite having him in her way. But over time he’d found himself a bit too interested in her, sniffing along at her heels during deliveries, and found himself so obvious after she’d fought off an entire train of them when his ingredient delivery had gone incredibly wrong that Aunt Maggie had started poking fun at him.

 Thankfully, Evan hadn’t seemed to realize or, at least, she’d taken pity on him enough to spare him the shame of being turned down. After all, she was an outlaw through and through, putting down so many Revenue Agents that he hadn’t the faintest clue how they still had any left, destroying their wagon stops when she was out and about, managing to slaughter dozens despite smoke hiding them and making her eyes water and being half dead after being blown off her feet. Why would she want someone such as him?

He sighed, stretching out on his bed, only to freeze when he heard… something.

 Something that definitely shouldn’t have been there.

 He was alone in the cabin, he was sure of that. Evan had been talking about getting a cat to take care of the rats that got in sometimes, though talking wasn’t the right word for it, she sketched on her journal (he was fairly certain she was illiterate, actually), but as of yet she hadn’t brought one back. And if Aunt Maggie or Marcel had come back he definitely would have heard them.

Though some might think otherwise, the life of a Moonshiner is not a ‘safe’ or ‘easy’ one. Even if you stay near your still, away from the Revenue stops, and didn’t go out on deliveries, you still were at risk of being blown up by a malfunctioning still, or being attacked by a competitor. He’d lost count of the number of times his Aunt Maggie had sent Evan out to blow up a still, or poison it, and though theirs was in their basement and, thus, harder to get to, it wouldn’t be completely out of the realm of possibility for someone to try and break in to poison their shine, or blow their still up, or even just blow up their shack altogether.

 So, his heart leaping in his ears, he grabbed his pistol that he kept under his pillow, and climbed out of bed as quietly as he could. Creeping to the stairs, and then down them, was nerve wracking, as he didn’t find anyone on the top floor, and the sound seemed to be coming from downstairs—the still? With his gun drawn, he used it to open the door that led to the cooking room, only to find it empty, but the sound became much, much clearer, and he realized, suddenly, that it came from the speakeasy.

 As quietly as he could, their shack was fairly old and prone to creaking so it wasn’t very, he slunk towards the door, clutching his gun, though he was starting to think that it was some drunk that had been passed out somewhere while they were clearing it out—then again, Aunt Maggie wasn’t one to miss folk, no matter where they hid, and drunkards weren’t the best at hiding.

  “You are all I long for, all I worship and adore,”

 He froze, paused and pressed his hand against the wall—what kinda fool broke in and started singing? That didn’t sound like any of their patrons, wasn’t slurred as though drunk,

  “In other words, please be true,”

 Female, definitely female, and they didn’t have many female patrons, well, at least, didn’t have many that talked or drank. They often came with their husbands, their partners, but seldom drank or talked. So he doubted it was one of them that had hidden and stayed to… what, to sing?

  “In other words, in other words,”

 Oh, wait, he knew that guitar! Evan had even put out the money to hire a band for the speakeasy, drawing in far more patrons than they could ever have imagined, and that was definitely their guitar. It had a particular twang, a slight flatness—he was positive that was their guitar, he’d been made to listen to it near constantly since she’d hired the band.

  “Iiii loooove… You.”

They weren’t half bad, actually. Strange, in a way, with a raspy voice, though not in the way of a smoker’s. Rather low, at least for a woman’s, and breathy, but not bad. And he was curious, and still wary (he was a Fike, after all), so slowly and carefully he slipped his head into the room, and you could have knocked him over with a feather.

Fingers he’d only ever seen clad in gloves, tensed around horse reins or clenching on a gun’s trigger were flying easily across the strings of a guitar, face usually tensed with stress or concern or anger smooth and relaxed, eyes closed as she crooned, though he could have sworn he saw a flash of green but she didn’t react so surely he imagined it? An outlaw, a gunslinger, a moonshiner and bounty hunter she would never have sat idly by while someone stared her down, gun in hand,

  “Wise men say only fools rush in,”

 And oh, he’d never heard her speak before, had never thought her capable of it. Next month would mark a year since he’d been freed, since Aunt Maggie re-established her business, since he’d met Evan, and in that time she’d yet to hear a single word pass her lips.

  “But I can't help falling in love with you,”

 Though, perhaps, he should have known better. He’d heard her ‘yah!’ her horse, heard her scream when the fire crept up her face, heard her bark a startled laugh when he’d said ‘Pow! Pow! Pow!’ so was it so surprising that she could speak?

  “Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin,”

 Why, though, would she choose not to? Even if she hadn’t felt comfortable speaking around them in the beginning, only nodding and sighing and gesturing, surely, surely, she should have grown comfortable over time? The thing was, she had, he could tell. In the beginning, she’d come and gone, stopped in long enough to put money down for Aunt Maggie and scribble down what it was to be spent down, pick up a delivery or drop off the ingredients, or for Aunt Maggie to tell her where she needed to go.

  “Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?”

 But, slowly, she’d stayed more and more. Plopped down at the far chair of the table, back to the wall and eyes to the door, gulping down hard-tack or whatever canned food she had with her, looking as uneasy as any wolf would be if it were in a building.

  “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,”

 Over time, she’d stopped eating so fast, only noticeable if you were paying attention, and then one day she’d finished her hard-tack and, then, after a moment of intense thought, kicked her booted feet up onto the table, crossed her arms over her chest, and dropped her chin. It had looked as though she were dozing, but he’d caught her watching him and Aunt Maggie scrutinizingly from beneath the brim of her Rexroad hat.

  “Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

 As it were, however they’d acted while she’d done so seemed to pass some sort of muster, as she’d walked in the next day, shrugged off her coat and slung it over her usual chair before sitting down, hat low over her head, as she ate slowly, sipping at a can of peaches while sketching in a journal. What she was doing, he didn’t know, but her face had been awfully serious while she was doing so and so it must have been something important.

 When she was done, she had tucked the journal away, swung her feet up onto the table and, plopping her hat down and tugging the brim low over her eyes, taken a nap before riding back out.

  “Take my hand, take my whole life too,”

 It had started snowing one day while she was inside, a small snowfall that turned into an all-out blizzard. Even inside, with walls that she, Lem, and Marcel had worked to repair and insulate, it had been freezing, cold enough that they’d worked to move the beds down into the cook-room, huddled up in what blankets they could dig out, every jacket they had tugged around themselves.

 She’d had no choice but to go out and stable her mare, tuck it away with Marcel and Maggie’s, though her face had said she clearly wasn’t much happy about it. That done, she’d dragged her bedroll down with them, stretching out on the opposite of the room, as far from them as she could get, back to the wall, facing them and the door.

  “Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you.”

 He’d been dozing off perhaps an hour later, woken every time Marcel got up to fuss with the shine that was cooking, when he’d looked over and thought that she’d left. It had taken him a moment to realize that the mound of fabric was her back, and that she’d willingly turned her back to them, to the door, trusting them to protect her and wake her if something happened as she slept.

  “Oh, like a river flows, surely to the sea,”

 After that, she’d taken to sleeping at the shack, and they’d stopped having to worry that their best employee was going to lose life or limb to frostbite. He’d been startled the first time he walked in to find a bedroll tucked up in the corner of the shack, not far from ‘her’ chair, and it wasn’t long after that that she’d taken to keeping a coat in the coat closet along with them so she’d have something to wear while she dried her other near the cooking fire, almost always soaked with the drizzle that haunted the Grizzlies.

 They’d have given her a room, really, but he and Aunt Maggie were sharing a room and Marcel was already sleeping in the cooking room so they really couldn’t.

  “Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

 He’d tried to offer her the bed, once or twice, when Aunt Maggie was out, but she’d given him a long stare, then a ticked eyebrow and a shake of her head, pointing at her bedroll. ‘I have this,’ she was saying, and while he had tried to argue that a bed was more comfortable, she had shook her head and gestured at it more emphatically, ‘This is fine,’ and he had learned long ago not to argue with her, and there was always that underlying fear of crossing some invisible line and losing what trust had been built with her, so he’d laid down on the bed, though it creaked and groaned beneath him it was a bed and infinitely more comfortable than a bedroll and he couldn’t imagine why she would prefer a bedroll.

 But it was her prerogative, and he refused to risk upsetting her and losing her trust. He liked to think they were friends, or close to it, and in his sort of life you didn’t have many friends, if any, and he’d wager that she didn’t have many, either, so why hurt them both?

  “Oh, take my hand, take my whole life too,”

 Though he wasn’t sure if she actually did consider him a friend. After all, their entire relationship at this point, if it could even be called that, was her saving him and him nearly getting her killed in return. She’d broken him out of a prison wagon and brought him home, but not without nearly being shot down by several squads of lawmen and Revenue Agents. Had had to save his ass after he’d hired untrustworthy folk and left them to make a getaway on a boat of all things, shooting down nearly an entire train full of Agents, and leaving her shot several times over in return. He’d even nearly killed her himself, he thought ruefully, the burn scars that gleamed and stretched and gnarled her mouth as she sang painful proof of that, losing his temper and setting off explosives that she had put down for him, and then been shot several times on top of that while he’d cut and run.

  “For I can't help falling in love with you,”

 So if she considered him little more than a liability, just a hanger-on that she had to put up with on account of working with his Aunt, well, he wouldn’t blame her in the least. It was the truth, after all, and if that wasn’t bad enough he was a liability what had gone and caught feelings for her.

  “Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you.”

With that rather depressing thought, he moved to holster his gun and step back, remembering only when his hand flailed awkwardly that he was still in his sleep pants and, thus, had no holster, heart turning to stone in his chest at a quiet laugh.

 Feeling as though he were looking into the eyes of his killer, he raised his head, coming blue-to-green, “I’m so-,” but she snorted, and patted the ground in front of her, the ghost of an amused grin on her face, and he could do little more than obey, wondering if this was how a man felt as he were being walked to the gallows, and came to a stop in front of her, “I-I,” but she reached up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him until he knelt, then sat, pushing his shoulder until he was sitting cross legged with his back to her.

 “Evan?” he asked, “I didn’t mean to watch you, I heard a no-noise and,” but she shut him up, slipping the gun out of his hand and setting it aside, and he allowed it, frozen as she rearranged herself behind him, kneeling to bracket his hips with her knees, accepting her guitar with a “What?” incredibly aware of her as she leaned against him, reaching around to adjust his grip on it, and then it clicked and “N-no I can’t play!” but she simply made a sound that could have been a ‘hmph’ or a breathy laugh.

 Seemingly satisfied, she draped herself over his shoulder like a harlot, and he prayed she couldn’t see his heart racing in his chest, his pulse thrumming in his throat, he’d never known her to act like this before and would have thought her drunk but she didn’t smell of shine or any sort of alcohol, and as she was in his peripheral he couldn’t make out the red that tinted the shell of her ears.

 Carefully, she adjusted her hands until they were atop his, fingers matching until it was though he were wearing a strange set of gloves, and began to move her right, nudging his along, in a strumming motion. He moved with her, though clumsily and hesitant, the sound discordant, and she nodded, “Mmhm,” repeating the motion over and over until he was moving almost in sync with her, before shifting to his left hand and beginning to do the same, and oh but that was a mess.

 It was much more involved, his fingers having to move and press on things, but she was patient, just ‘hmph’-ed when he got it wrong and made him do it again, and before long she removed her hands and sat back after clapping them on his shoulders as a way of saying ‘good job’, and when he turned to grin at her he hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

 She sat back on her heels, and he felt incredibly scrutinized even as he took her in—she wore little more than jeans and a too-big plaid blue shirt with her boots; he’d never seen her so undressed before. Even still, he knew she could have him dead in the ground in a heartbeat if he so much as breathed her way funny.

 Seeming to decide something, she nodded, leaning forward and pushing on his shoulder, so he turned back around, picking the guitar back up when she pushed it into his hands. “I don’t know an-” but she harrumph-ed and splayed herself over his shoulder again, and he had the thought of some over-sized cat stretching over her lady’s shoulder though Evan was in no way tame enough to be a mere cat, maybe a wildcat, and he tried not to laugh at the image, it damn well fit her!

 She began to strum his fingers for him, and he fumbled to keep up—it was some song, not very pretty with how unpracticed his fingers were, but she was managing to pull a song out of him yet, and then she began to sing, and for a moment he thought she was merely speaking and startled,

  “Remember me,”

 she inhaled, strummed his fingers carefully,

  “Though I have to say goodbye, remember me,”

 and oh, she was singing, 

  “Don’t let it make you cry.”

 He’d never heard the song before, it wasn’t the kind of song performed in a speakeasy, or a saloon for that matter. Lem’s fingers fumbled, and she slowed her singing and the movements of her own fingers to account for his newness, hummed and leaned over him to help move his fingers along the strings,

  “For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart,”

 Surely it was a camp song? The sort of song an outlaw, a gunslinger, sang to his child, before heading out to work? Or a cowboy, for that matter, and he wondered if it was something she’d been taught by her own family. It wasn’t something he thought about often, just like you don’t think about your own family’s family. He didn’t think about Evan as a child just like he didn’t think about his Aunt Maggie as a child, it always seemed as though they sprung, fully formed, as he knew them, from the ground, and picturing them young and innocent and helpless was a foreign, alien thing.

  “I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart…”

 This wasn’t his sort of song or, at least, he’d never have thought it was. He’d grown up with the bawdy, raucous speakeasy music, and it was all he’d known. Lem hadn’t thought he’d care for more slow music, quiet and crooning, but with her voice crooning in his ear, so close he could feel her chest vibrating against his back, he was finding he was quick to prefer it.

  “Remember me, though I have to travel far,”

 How could a song bring him so many questions?

 He knew, some, of what Evan did when she wasn’t at the shack, wasn't doing work for his Aunt. Knew she ran bounties, knew she hunted and ran deliveries for Cripps, and that she collected things to sell. But where did she go? Did she stay around the Grizzlies? Or did she go down to Lemoyne? Or was that only when she was needed to for work? The thought of her disappearing, never turning up again and never knowing if she’d ended up dead, in the stomach of a gator or the jaws of a wolf, was terrifying, and his fingers stumbled on the frets.

  “Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar,”

 She slowed her singing and the strumming as she realigned his fingers, getting him used to the motions again, before slowly picking up the speed and starting to sing,

  “Know that I’m with you, the only way that I can be.”

 This was… nice, he had to admit, relaxing into the motions. His fingers kept tripping over each other, but she easily corrected him, slipping his fingers where they belonged and, though the sound they produced wasn’t exactly nice , it was recognizable as music.

 It sounded like the song was starting to end, but he didn’t want it to end, so he remained where he sat, and she hesitated before continuing to guide his hands in strumming and plucking, before crooning with the same rhythm and tone as before,

  “Recuérdame, si en tu mente viva estoy,”

 And since when did she speak Spanish? He’d never known that about her, and it was easy to forget that he knew very little about her. Didn’t know how old she was, where she lived if she actually lived somewhere, if she had a family, hell, he hadn’t even known she could talk! But the Spanish in his ear was soothing, was nice, and he found himself relaxing enough that she had to prod his fingers to remind him to move them, and from the way she huffed it was obvious that he’d gone as red as he felt.

  “Recuérdame, mis sueños yo te doy,”

 Christ, but he hoped she didn’t feel how he shivered, the Spanish ghosting against his ear affecting him far too much. Her voice was nice, though odd, pitching up higher than it had been when she was singing in English, but still just as raspy and breathy, and by then she’d gotten close enough to him that he could feel each breath caressing his ear.

 This was a bad idea.

 This was a bad idea.

  “Te llevo en mi corazón, Y te acompañaré, unidas en nuestra canción, contigo ahi estaré.”

 He wanted to ask her what it meant, what she was singing. Why she’d chosen that song, or if there was even a reason, or if she’d just chosen it because the guitar part was easier than the other songs she knew (though that wasn’t saying much, he was still having a hard time even with her fingers guiding his and going at a pace he thought was slow even for that song) but considering she’d yet to say a word despite him knowing that she could, in fact, speak he thought his chances of getting an answer were not good.

  “Recuérdame, si sola crees estar, recuérdame, y mi cantar te irá a abrazar,”

 How had this happened?

 How in all hell had he gone from intending on shooting an intruder to more or less sitting in her lap, reclining against her chest with her hands on his, her breath ghosting over the shell of his ear, knees cradling his hips. Not that he was complaining of course, but he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that this wasn’t a dream.

 Things like this don’t happen to him.

  “Aun en la distancia, nunca vayas a olvidar. Que yo contigo siempre voy, recuérdame.”

 She released his hands, and he fumbled, but continued playing—it was a rhythm, the same fingering, over and over again, and though he stumbled and sounded even worse than before he managed to do so, and the grin he could feel against the side of his face from where she’d leaned forward to watch him made it worth it. He nearly dropped the guitar when she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his shoulders to help her keep his balance, so tense against him it felt almost as though she’d release and go bouncing across the room if he so much as breathed wrong.

  “For I will soon be gone, remember me,”

 The sudden switch back to English startled him, and he fumbled the guitar, catching it before she could let go of him to save it, struggling to find where he’d let off as she huffed a laugh in his ear, chest vibrating against his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much human contact, so much physical contact period, and he’d never known her to care for it either. Lem had only ever known pats on the back or the shoulder, the glance of her gloves against his fingers as he passed things to her. He’d seen her love up her horses, of course, but never seen her willingly touch a human more than she had to.

 Of course, he wasn’t complaining. Still, though, he wondered what had made her act so odd.

  “And let the love we have live on. Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be,”

 Her voice had become raspier, tired, as though singing so much had worn it out, and he wondered if that was why she didn’t talk so much or if it was because she didn’t talk, if talking so little made her voice sound so worn out, becoming more strained as she used it, the opposite of a wagon wheel, where a wagon wheel loosened up after working her voice did the opposite. Or if she didn’t talk as much because her voice became fatigued when she did so?

  “Until you're in my arms again… remember me.”

 Her voice hung for a long moment in the air as she slowly removed her hands from his shoulders, giving them a squeeze and allowing her head to press between his shoulder blades before sitting back on her heels. Lem sat for a long moment, the silence so thick as to be able to be cut with a knife, wondering if she would start another song, but only their breathing filled the air, so he kept a careful grip on the guitar as he turned the face her, unable to make out the expression on her face, an odd twist to her lips, her eyes hazy.

 “Why-” why what? Even Lem didn’t know. Why was she singing? Why hadn’t she kicked him out? Why had she been so touchy? Why had she tried to teach him to play? There were a lot of why’s there though, knowing Evan, he was almost certain he wouldn’t get an answer.

 And he was right. She simply give him a grin that stopped him, more sincere than he’d ever gotten from her before, a soft one that eased the fierceness of those green eyes of her’s, and stood, taking the guitar after his hands, patting his shoulder as she passed him by, leaving the guitar leaning against the wall as she left.

When Evan left the shack that night, she never came back.

 Cripps came by a few weeks later, asking after her, and thought she’d been working with them. They’d thought the same.

  For even if I'm far away

I hold you in my heart

 Months passed, and she never came back. A bounty hunter that she’d worked under sought them out, and a fortune teller, too, all sniffing after her, and all never having seen her after she’d walked out of their shack.

 Lem had been the last one to see her, and some of them didn’t believe him. And why would they? Evan wasn’t one to talk, much less to sing. So he started to change his story, saying that they’d shared a drink down in the speakeasy, and that was that.

 Besides, it had always felt intimate, like something special, and even telling Aunt Maggie when she’d come to him had felt like he was betraying Evan, like he was breaking some unspoken promise.

  Remember me

Each time you hear a sad guitar

 Life went on. It had to. Evan had gotten their foot back in the door, and he continued making deliveries, had to quickly fill her shoes and clear out the Revenue Agent’s wagon stops, build relationships with their buyers, sabotage other stills. He still caught Aunt Maggie looking startled when it was he and not her that came in the door, caught Marcel going to call him patronne only to catch himself and call him patron, and even caught himself looking for her when fights broke out in the speakeasy.

 But life went on.

  Remember me