The Seer

Bethany Veer; But I am your keeper, And I hold your face away from light. I am yours until they come.

[bethveer]

Hey yo babes. I will be back on more often starting tomorrow. xoxo

[peremadeleine]

gods and queens aren’t allowed to be lonely

[bethveer]

A Bower Scene || Vilkas and Bethany

[vilkasbyrd]

That dagger. That flimsy, crude piece of metal shaped into an instrument of warning, held out like her last golden guard.

How he wanted to grab it from her, to show her that its edge was not as wicked as his own teeth, his own claws, and it’d be left in the palm of a bloody and shredded palm belonging to a carcass when he was done.

How the Gods would protect her then, in all her infinite wisdom. She would truly have their protection then, as the marrow of her bones fed into the earth, helping to raise the forest.

A fitting tribute, truly.

"You speak with an awful lot of conviction, woman.” He could keep the hiss out of his voice to some extent, but for some reason you could make sense of its presence anyway, your mind already putting it in for you, like it was completing some sort of puzzle. “But yes, I understand you. I understand you perfectly fine. And when those seconds run out, well…”

He trailed off, his eyes flashing at her. He didn’t even think that he wasn’t hiding his intentions like he should have been, posing himself like a man she had simply misunderstood who held the deepest of forbidden secrets. In his eyes, she was a dead woman walking, and though what he did was unspoken between them or even anyone in particular, he embodied those deep, dark myths- his teeth were like the teeth of wolves in fairy tales, glinting reflections like crystal balls who foretold the future and warned of what was to come.

However, his smile would falter slightly at the hint of a smile unexpectedly brightening her features, making his brow crease ever-so-slightly in puzzlement as he regarded her with unmoving eyes. It would falter even more so as she began to speak-

"…If you kill me now, the gods will not thank you.

I have not broken your laws, so Varahk will judge you. I am unwed, and therefore protected by Isonade. I bear gifts to Cern and if you kill me before they’re delivered  the forest will no longer be your ally. Three strikes against you. Three strikes. Unless I allow it.

Keep me safe, and I shall. I’m the only fool you’ll find in the forest for days.”

If there had been a loathsome twisting in his guts beforehand, then he didn’t even know what this he was now feeling was. She was a human- his prey, the inferior species to the might of a skinwalker, and for her to go on with such steel in her tone seemed like nothing but a perversion of nature; how dare she act if he were some dog to be ordered around, to act if she were his master? How dare…

But then, even he couldn’t ignore the admirable intelligence behind her words, a concept which seemed like a first for humans from his perspective. Besides, if he accompanied her until her task was done and her protection slipped from her -she had given him permission to kill her when she was finished, after all, and he doubted the gods would not punish him for something expressed out of free will-, then it would all still work out in the end, and he’d get to keep a close eye on her.

So the faltering smile picked up once again, and for the second time he nodded. There was fear still there within her, buried but still making itself known just that little bit, like the piled bodies in overgrown graveyards which should have been hidden from sight but couldn’t be. You could almost taste it, and so that would be what would keep him going, keep him patient even within the shackles of obligations she was imprisoning him with.

"Fine. You respect the Gods, I respect you, and the Gods respect me with the tribulations you’re presenting me with," he said, crossing his arms as he ran his tongue along his teeth, his eyes never once stopping from their staring even as he moved his head to speak and consider the idea. "I’ll accompany you to Cern’s shrine, and you have my word that you won’t be harmed."

As he finished speaking he stepped forward, ignoring the dagger so he he could walk with her in intimacy, the woman right by his side. He leaned in to touch the small of her back to get her moving with what others would probably view as too much familiarity for two people just met, but he didn’t care- he was determined to still try and assert as much dominance as possible in the situation.

As he did so, however, he nearness somehow intensified her scent, and for a flicker of a moment he thought he caught something… something more. Like he had smelled her unique scent before, in some time now forgotten.

He dismissed it. He had never met her before in his life, he knew of neither her name nor who she was; she was merely another of the unfortunate travellers, same as all the rest.

The smells of the village carried on all of his select prey, after all.

[bethveer]

"I’ll accompany you to Cern’s shrine, and you have my word that you won’t be harmed."

Yet. 

The hand pressed against the small of her back, propelling her forward into the vast forest. The silence was deafening, the promises of things yet to come hung in the air like a heavy layer of fog. She could barely move through them. But she had to. There was no other choice. Bethany had traded one terror for another. The dangers of the forest for the dangers of a wolf. Which was worse? Which would be her undoing? A combination of both, she supposed. 

Or perhaps neither. Oh, that would be the hope. That would be the desperate thing she clung to as she took that first step, tucking the dagger into the hem of her sleeve. Easy to reach. A fox could never trust a wolf, though it went both ways. Admittedly, she had given him her word. A contract had been made to see this to the end. He would protect her, and in the end she would go to death with open arms. Who would be the first to back out of the bargain. She wasn't sure which fate would be worse. To be betrayed, or to betray him and know she would be judged. 

Yet. Yet. Yet. 

God, how she couldn't shake the word. Everything else seemed to pale in comparison. What would the children say when there was nothing left but bloody rags? Would there be whispers of her doom? Carina would burn the forest the ground. She would start a war she could not win. A war against the gods. 

What was the proper way to address this situation? Thank him for agreeing to her terms? Noting that he was smart as he looked? Perhaps that seemed strange considering his appearance, but he seemed to carry something of a cleverness to him. He was cunning, no doubt. A hunter. A true hunter. The kind only an animal could be. 

She hitched up her dress slightly as she stepped over a fallen branch, the dark green fabric still caught on the protruding wood. 

"A wolf came upon a lamb who had strayed too far from the flock. He felt some guilt for taking the life of a creature so helpless without reason. So he cast about for a grievance and said at last, 'Last year, little lamb, you grossly insulted me.' The lamb replied, 'But I am not yet a year old.' The wolf tried again, 'Well, you eat in my pastures without my permission.' Again, the lamb denied it, 'But I have not yet tasted grass, that is impossible!' Irritated, the wolf continued. 'You drink from my spring, then.' But the lamb shook it's head. 'I've only sipped my mother's milk, I have not touched your spring.' 

'Well,' said the wolf, 'I can't go without my dinner.' And he sprang upon the lamb and devoured it without more ado."

A story from the storyteller, perhaps that would be some tribute. But then, it might serve as some insult as well. The story of the Wolf and the Lamb wasn't meant to paint the wolf as anything more than a hungry fiend without thought or worry towards the consequences. However, he had heeded her warnings about the gods. He had agreed to aid her in her task. His motives were unsound, but his actions were noble. He chose to honour the gods as she would have. 

She shifted the weight of her pack. She tried again.

"So tell me, wolf. Do you make it a habit of stalking helpless women in the woods?"

Ah yes, petty conversation. Aquatint yourself with the man who wished to kill you. Paint yourself as a creature with a future, not a bard steeped in nothing save the past. Besides, if she made it out alive, she could only imagine the story this could become. Not a story she would tell around her sister, certainly. Not a story she would tell if it was linked to her own name. It was dangerous to admit to such things now. Carina had scorned the gods, made the worship of them illegal. Or so she tried. Bethany had never supported those thoughts, in fact, she abhorred them.

If the gods saw fit to kill her now, then all they did was spare her form having to see them rip her sister to shreds. Oh, god. Rip her apart like they had done to her father. Her nostrils filled with the smell of wolves and copper. She took a sharp inhale of breath. All her life she could recall the scent of a killing, and now it stood beside her. Walked in her stride. What did this make her? Brave? No. Foolish. Probably.

A wise woman never would have left alone to begin with. Bethany was the only one to blame for her situation. Not this man – this wolf. What was he, really? In this form he appeared to her as any other person would. She wanted to ask him to stop so she could really look at him, so she could investigate his features and commit them to memory so she would always remember. Not from any fondness, simply for the sake of retellings. For the sake of understanding. He was the first of his kind she had encountered, the first shred of evidence she had to shake in her sister's face. Surely if she could prove that the gods' wrath would be too great, Carina would see the errors in her ways.

That is, if Bethany ever made it back.

[jiminjuseyo]

[rohan-the-sikla]

sweets to the sweet // bethany & rohan

[rohan-the-sikla]

He didn’t precisely care for the way her gaze seemed to be riveted upon his features, pale eyes lit with a kind of cool attent; almost instantly he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for nothing in particular. What a true fucking teacher. Unwittingly he brought a hand up to his face, scratching his cheek with a violence borne from sheer consternation, along with a slight actual itch. It was always nice to be admired by somebody who wasn’t incredibly ugly, of course, but she wasn’t a hip-swaying goddess or anything (he may not have had the means to be picky, but he sure as hell had the time). Much more like what you would expect a feminine and relatively young teacher to look like. Or at least what he did, which coincidentally had no real basis in reality.

 After a few long moments, during which Rohan found himself vaguely concerned that the woman had asphyxiated, she finally released a breath and, with it, a misty kind of smile. The Sikla peered at her with lowered brows, scrutinizing that ambiguous expression playing across her face, expecting equal parts for her to start laughing or sobbing.

  Human women. Barely even fucking human. Which really did make sense, seeing as Balkar made a point of assuring him he was more akin to a midwife from Braemer than anything else. Ha ha, Rohan would think in reply. One day I’ll shove your head so far up your ass you can tell shitty jokes to your intestines instead. Ha ha. He really was the funniest person he knew most of the time, and that was saying something. Godly creatures weren’t exactly known for their fantastic senses of humor, after all, since it didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with that reputation of drowning and killing and general fun times. Strange how that works.

  ”You tell a woman she’s a lady to sell her things like that, you tell a man he’s a coward if he refuses.”

Shifting on his feet slightly, he shrugged his shoulders and made way for a thin sea of fishermen hustling past. Rohan kept his eyes trained on them carefully, a kind of smile finding its way onto his face. “Really, I was just going to start out by calling you a coward. Convenient of you to mention it before I had to.” He fell silent as her sanguine tones carried on, quiet but amused as his gaze fell past her and to the market around them; having a legitimate social interaction with a woman without her in some way threatening to mangle/drown him was somewhat of a novelty, sure, but hell if he was going to miss a sale because of it. “Stew? After this winter I’m made out of fucking stew, I just -“

 Taking a brief respite to interrupt himself, his grimy hand shot out just past the teacher, grabbing onto the arm of a passerby, their cart hampered with the carcass of a deer. “I’ll give you six for it. Eleven? You’re really a moron if you think - no, trust me, I know good game when I see it, and that looks like it was mauled by a fucking - nine? Eight. Eight? Fine.” His shrilly stressed tone had always been a gift for bargaining. A fucking pain in the ass for everything else, sure, but he digressed.

 Looking down at the carcass, he wondered blinkingly just how he’d explain those violent marks to the pack. He glanced back up at the teacher. “It’s not too bad, I don’t think. I’ll… skin it.”

 Rickety cart handle in hand, his gaze flicked to the small army of dead rabbits hanging from his free hand. He narrowed his eyes, alternately sizing up their worth in relation to just how un-ugly the woman was. After a moment he grimaced and pushed them into her arms. “No charge for now, because I just so happen to be extremely generous.”

 Turning around, he couldn’t resist raising his eyebrows slightly. “Girls?” She had to have the wrong hunter, but he’d play along anyway. Always seize the opportunity for a woman who won’t rip your throat out. With his luck they’d probably be five fucking years old “Really. Which ones, again?” 

[bethveer]

The rabbits hung sadly from twine, she looked down at them with an amused sort of frown. She wasn't sure she had ever seen a dead animal look more bedraggled. Well, she had. But she wasn't sure she had ever seen someone try to sell anything like this before. Was he sure he was a hunter? Bethany wouldn't be surprised if he was just a scavenger. Pulling already dead animals onto his cart on the way to the village. He wouldn't be the first, she was certain he wouldn't be the last. 

Though, he must have had some skill if he could survive the Black Forest without any sort of companionship. At least none that she could see. That was more than she could say for many hunters she knew. Certainly more than she could say for so many people who had mattered to her. Her father. Her Henry. For an instant she imagined her lost hunter boy emerging from the trees now, his hair tousled from sleeping in a bed of leaves. A grin plastered across his face as he threw something large and dead over his shoulder with arms that reached too far and legs too tall. 

She focused back on the man in front of her again. The lone hunter. His eyes seemed lonely. They carried a bitter glimmer. She recognised it from the eyes of her sister. The eyes of Roman. The eyes of Gwyneth. The eyes of so many people who had come and gone too fast and without much care. He looked like the sort of man who had gone too long without the care he deserved. Without the love of a mother by the looks of it. She wondered if she would look the same way if she hadn't had Carina. 

“No charge for now, because I just so happen to be extremely generous.”

Carefully shifting the weight of rabbits to her other arm, a group of girls were lurking nearby. Sixteen or seventeen. She had no doubt that they were imagining scenarios in their head about who he was. And she had even fewer doubts that she would be answering questions for them later. Bethany made it a point to have a good relationship with her students. Without any children of her own, they were all she would ever have. Perhaps it was better that way, she would be able to pour her heart into all of the young villagers. 

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

"You're too kind."

He turned back towards her, an eyebrow raised. 

"Girls? Really. Which ones, again?” 

She let a fond sound escape her before she raised her eyebrows in the direction of the girls. Green eyes leading him to where they sat, staring and whispering and weaving pieces of grass together. That had been a fun age, she remembered doing the very same with Danica. Only then they had been whispering over boys closer to their own age. Though, she would admit it was hard to put an age on the hunter (scavenger?). 

"They're sweet girls, I imagine they like the idea of a mysterious young forest dweller," she shrugged and look back at him. "For all they know you could run with godly creatures and the like." Her voice sunk to a mock whisper, excited and amused. As if her words might have been escaping one of the girls now. She wouldn't be shocked if they were. 

Again, Bethany glanced down at his sad looking game and then looked around the rest of the market. She pointed over to the far corner before looking back at the man.

"See that woman in the corner there? I promise you she'll buy the lot of your squirrels for the right price. She owns the alehouse, always looking for something to cook up for cheap. Not the most considerate to the weary traveller, but it fills the gut all the same, I suppose."

[fantasy-avatars]

[roman-birch-deactivated20140430]

Flickering || Roman and Bethany

[roman-birch-deactivated20140430]

You’ve changed. 

Those words hurt, but what pained the miner even more was the factual way in which she said it. After the people he had loved had died, Roman had retreated to a hiding place. But he’d never planned to change himself, just his circumstances. Perhaps Roman was more a creature of his surroundings and experiences than his own man. Maybe that’s why his detachment from the village had twisted him into a bitter, angry man. Someone who lived his entire life on a razor’s edge between fear and guilt. 

"The Gods don’t change," Roman said, agreeing with her a quiet tone. "But they can be forgotten. And I fear for this village when the day comes that they’re truly gone." Roman wasn’t the biggest fan of the Gods, but he knew that they could protect the village, if they wanted to. Without them, the humans of Braemer were exposed, like ants under a boot. 

He didn’t know what to say. Roman hadn’t realized until now that he had forgotten how to communicate. He had forgotten how to talk to people, even Bethany. Even people who he had spent his whole life around. Isolation had done Roman few favors. Now he was nothing but a man with a lot of words and no voice. 

And now he might have offended her. In terms of luck, he measured it by the amount of misfortune for one’s years. Bethany had had her share. So had he. But he didn’t know how to respond to her. 

He lifted his head, looking into her green eyes. “I’m sorry, Beth. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, that I haven’t made an effort to be around. I haven’t been a very good friend.” Roman bit his lip so hard that he almost broke the skin. The truth was, he had been tired of losing people. Distancing himself seemed the only way to spare himself. But that was selfish. Danica and Henry were already gone, Gwyneth and Bethany remained. 

Roman took another drink, his hand shaking slightly on the handle of the tankard. He couldn’t bear to think of those people and of his own failures without a few drinks to dull the memories. 

[bethveer]

She rolled her eyes. He was too dramatic. Though, perhaps he had a right. The years had robbed him of so many things. She couldn't imagine facing the horrors of a lost love painted in the face of a young girl. A daughter. His own daughter. A girl who didn't realise the resemblance they shared was more than just coincidental. Though, in all the years Bethany had known Victoria, she wasn't sure she carried anyone but Danica within her. It made her chest ache to think about. 

She didn't want her chest to ache. She was tired of the pains of the heart and the throbbing in her head. She was tired of sleepless nights and crushing blows. She was tired of being tired. 

"Hush now. You were never a very good friend," her words came accompanied with a light laugh. The sound of bells. Lazily, Bethany reached up and smushed his cheeks together between her thumb and her index finger. "You're oozing so much sap I fear the years have turned you into a tree. A tree with very pouty lips."

Her hand slid away and returned to the flagon of ale. She shrugged slightly -- as if to excuse her actions -- and took a drink. The liquid went down warm, it filled her stomach with a tingling sensation. Already she could feel herself becoming a combination of hungry and nauseous. That would fade though, it always did. 

"A scorpion meets a frog on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him to the other side on his back. The frog asks, 'How do I know you won't sting me?' The scorpion says, 'Because if I do, I will die too.'

The frog, satisfied with this answer, sets out with the scorpion on it's back. But in the middle of the stream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog starts to feel the paralysis overtake him and he starts to sink. He knows that they'll both drown, but he has just enough time to gasp, 'Why?'

Solemnly the scorpion replies: 'It's in my nature." She took another drink before continuing. "You see, the scorpion can't help but bring about his own destruction. It's sad, it's avoidable. But it's ultimately his undoing."

While drowning on the back of the frog wasn't the same as rotting away alone in the quarry, she worried that he had become the scorpion. Too willing to destroy himself rather than let someone carry him across the stream. Not that she was really one to talk. She seemed to be floating midstream, barely keeping afloat between two shores. But at least it was something.

[carina-veer]

As A Feast || Bethany & Carina

As much as Carina would’ve liked, getting rid of the festival welcoming spring would be a ridiculous and insanely stupid move. She wasn’t a foolish leader, and she couldn’t take away every tradition that irked her. No, the most she could do was try to make the occasion as secular as possible - gone were the offerings and celebrations of Cern. If the people wanted to worship him today, they would have to do it in the privacy of their thoughts. Carina was going to have absolutely none of it today, which was something she considered a fairly reasonable trade-off, at least in her opinion.

The other reason being that she couldn’t even suppress her own slight enjoyment. It was nice, seeing everyone out and smiling. This was the village she enjoyed governing, the people she didn’t mind. This was humanity at its finest - to others it might not’ve been much, but the accomplishments of humans would never cease to be important to Carina.

Still, the small (but genuine) smile disappeared somewhat quickly as she heard something in her periphery.

"All praise Cern! May he forever prosper."

Carina turned, looking for the culprit. It seemed to be a young man, a boy being the more descriptive term. He was prancing about happily with his friends. Carina caught another mention of the God’s name, and she knew that she wasn’t merely being paranoid this time.

No matter. It would hardly be the first time she’d dealt with such behavior.

"Young man," she began, approaching with a smile on her face. "Did I hear you correctly? Discussing Cern at our fine establishment?"

The boy paled slightly, having been confronted by the Chief Elder. “I, uh, um…”

"You know that even mentioning that sort of filth is against our laws? And you know what happens to people who break laws, don’t you?"

[bethveer]

She wasn't ever far off from her sister at events like these, there was no one else to celebrate such merry times with. A bitter pill to swallow, but not something she would ever find the heart to complain over. She loved her sister. It was amazing to think of the woman Carina was. They had been so young when they lost everything, and since then they had never been able to hold on to much for very long without it slipping from their grasp. Except each other. 

Admittedly, the gods had caused them both more grief than any person should ever endure, but Bethany had faith that they were not without reason. She knew Carina disagreed. It pained her to think about her sister's new laws, the way she scorned the old ways. She would anger the gods further, she would cause them all more strife. She would bring nothing but death, and chaos, and flames. Bethany had dreamt it all, she was certain that it was more than just a nightmare. The gods had granted her a second sight, and she had to take her fate into her own hands. A lesson she learned from Carina.

Carina who was now -- unless her ears deceived her -- sucking the very joy from the face of a young man. A boy whom she knew from her lessons, Aiden. A sweet boy, though not the brightest. His father had only been a few years older than her, she remembered he hadn't been the brightest either. Bethany knew the haughty smile that twisted on Carina's angled face. Oh, she knew it all too well. With haste, the younger Veer moved towards the sight. Hoping to distract Carina before the day would be ruined for her pupil. 

You know that even mentioning that sort of filth is against our laws? And you know what happens to people who break laws, don’t you?

He had mentioned one of the gods within earshot of her, no doubt. If he had listened to her story at all the day before, he would have mentioned Cern. Bethany had stressed the importance of the festival on the children before dismissing them. Cern protected them, he loved them. He gave them wisdom and creativity. He gave them the forest that fed them. He was life. And this festival was a celebration of the life he breathed into the world. Or at least, that's what it should have been.

"Well, Varhak judges them," she moved herself between Aiden and Carina. She side-eyed her sister while focusing mainly on the boy. She reached into her side-bag and handed him a few small coins. "Go on and fetch me some lavender, you can bring it to me tomorrow during my lesson. Off you go."

He looked at her confused and she waved him off, pushing his shoulder slightly as if to give him the propulsion to move. She turned back to her sister.

"Let them have their stories, let them have their fun," she reached out for her sister's hands. "And let me have it too. Just one moment in time when you forget your distaste. For me?"

[bethveer]

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume.

Saoirse Ronan as young Bethany

Diego Boneta as young Roman

Alexandra Shipp as young Gwyneth

George MacKay as Henry Thane

[bethveer]

[x]

[bethveer]

Nature of Dust || Victoria and Bethany

[victoriaiskra]

Victoria flushed with pleasure at the compliment and cast her eyes down, embarrassed in the best way by her teacher’s kind words. She was in possession of the sort of nature that sought to please as best it could, and when she succeeded it always left her with a warm glow. Smiling, she looked back up at last, and found Miss Veer gazing into the middle distance, looking slightly pained. She was clearly worlds away. Victoria was just opening her mouth to say her name to reattract her attention when Miss Veer snapped out of it, and Victoria shut her mouth and gave her a smile instead. It was none of Victoria’s business, frankly, so she didn’t even consider asking what had happened. If Miss Veer wanted her to know she would tell her.

She blushed again at her teacher’s next words, and her eyes went straight back to the floor between them. She knew she missed far too many lessons, really, and she ought to be given a scolding rather than such a kind piece of encouragement. A little ashamed (although probably not ashamed enough to actually get her act together in regards to her schooling, unfortunately), Victoria scuffed one foot through the dirt below her.

"I really am sorry," she said, looking up again, "I’ve just got such a lot to do, you know? Helping my grandmother, and spending time with Mr Wellen…." she trailed off, but spoke up again almost immediately as another line of argument occurred to her, "And I do read a lot at home, I really do. My grandmother has such a lot of books, and Godfrey teaches me a great many things about - well, the world, and the gods, and the forest."

Miss Veer stood up then, and Victoria swayed back slightly to give the teacher more space. She was surprised all over again that she had now surpassed the older woman in height - it was a regular discovery for her, these days, since she was now five foot eight and looked just about done with growing, although her grandmother thought another half inch or so might add itself over the next few months. She was taller than many of the grown women in the village, and having to adjust to look down rather than up at them was still slightly shocking. But nobody seemed to mind too much, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it, after all. 

She smiled brightly at the offer, and nodded eagerly, “If you’re sure I wouldn’t be a bother, I would really like that.”

[bethveer]

"Not a bother at all," she smiled as she turned and moved inside the building. Passing three rooms until she reached her own, small and warm. The classroom smelled of lavender and sage. They hung by the open windows, purifying the air and breathing new life into the stiff and stale building. 

On her desk sat a half eaten loaf of sweet bread, shared with the last class of the day. The youngest of the children. Bethany liked to bring them surprises when they were exceptionally well behaved, their smiles were worth all the gold in the world. Worth more than the love of the gods. Not that she would admit that. Not that she would even dare to think it too long, lest the gods hear her trifling thoughts. 

She lifted the knife from the side of the plate and cut two slices. Looking up at Victoria she was stuck suddenly by how much she looked like her mother. In their youth, Bethany had loved Danica. Yet another friend whom she had lost too early. It made her heart ache to look at the girl too long. She almost hated herself for it. It wasn't Victoria's fault that she looked so much like her mother. It wasn't anyone's. Bethany knew she should have felt lucky to have this token of her fallen friend. A piece of her alive and well in this rosy-cheeked girl. 

There was a beat as Bethany inhaled softly, her front teeth brushing against her bottom lip. 

"Did you know there was a a woman long ago who looked quite a bit like you? She was wonderful and beautiful and clever. She was well-loved, no one could resist her smile. She died out of love, and Isonade saw this beautiful girl -- this shining girl -- and gave her new life beneath the water's depths. It's said she lives in the river still, and she watches after the people she loved and all the kin they'll ever have."

She dipped the knife into a jar of blackberry jam, sliding the seedy substance over the bread.

"Not that it has much substance, just a little tale to think on. How lovely it must be to live a life so wonderful you're to turned to legend. Don't you think? But I would hate to live forever, it seems so lonely."

With a smile, Bethany offered the treat to Victoria. 

[bethveer]

A Bower Scene || Vilkas and Bethany

[vilkasbyrd]

You could look into a forest, wander throughout it’s maze of brush and bracken, sing to the howling winds trapped between twisted trunks, and think with reasonable thought that this was a kingdom of solitude that you alone reigned in; no one was there to disturb you, no one was there to listen and to watch you and to lie in wait, prowling through paths that you had no knowledge of.

Most humans whom Vilkas met believed such fantasies, and that was their own downfall. Their own fatal flaw.

He had spotted the copper-haired woman as she had walked the once beaten paths that led to the Shrine, now steadily being reclaimed by nature as each year passed, and a wolf with a pelt of patched browns and greys had followed suit, his home keeping him hidden from sight, the sprawling growth a natural protector to those that truly belonged.

When had been the last time that he had done this? Not for months, surely. His tongue lolled in his mouth as the scene of the last time played in his mind, how the wayward traveller had screamed for someone, anyone to help her as the meat had been torn from her thighs, her abdomen, blood covering both her and her killer in streams of abundance until she died and the forest was again silent save for the melodies of a feasting predator.

Yes. It had been much too long. But perhaps tonight would be the night where the clock was once again reset, and this woman of red would be the gift from the God’s would be the salvation from such hungers that no other prey would quell, could quell

As the grass and weeds were pressed underneath clawed, dirt ridden paws, he let his nose guide him in the small instances that she would be shrouded by trees and shadows, reflecting on what he should do. Wait, with tail flicking in a brief moment of anticipation before he sprung, jaws clamping around her ivory neck? Or perhaps he would engage her in his usual form first, letting her have the last -relatively short, really, he hadn’t much patience for anything else- conversation of her insignificant human life? Or perhaps he would…

Lost in his thoughts, he made the mistake of dropping his predatory graces for just a moment- stepping too heavily down on the debris underneath, a sound resounding from where he was in the forest before her. He could sense the sudden pausing of the rushing blood in her heart, and he knew that her ears had been keen enough to hear him, validated by her steady move to unsheathe a hidden blade at her ankle.

A weapon, small but still capable of doing harm. Oh, how he loved the ones willing to fight back.

Licking his jaws, he paid it no heed, readying his muscles to leap forward and just take her where she stood. But then, then she just had to pick the right damn moment to speak rationally, and he was thrown off-guard. There was no fear in her voice of what might be out there, who he might be, and she claimed the protection of the gods, something which he was rarely willing to mess with.

So with a protesting soul, he shifted onto two legs before he stepped out to share her space, trying as hard as he could to paint his expression with something other than outright hostility and blood-lust, but still the smile he gave her was not welcoming, and maybe his eyes still carried the spells of hunger inside them, and the scar on his cheek warped his face that made mockery of friendliness as he nodded to her, dark hair moving slightly in the chilled wind.

And simply he asked her,

"And when will your task be done?"

[bethveer]

"It'll be done when I finish it, now won't it? It's a bit of a silly question really," she exhaled. This was no ordinary man, she would be a fool to think he was. He smelled of wolves and copper. He smelled of a hunter. If he were a hunter, then she was his prey. A skinwalker. The first she had seen in the flesh. Oh, this was not good. This was very bad, indeed. 

Bethany swallowed her fear -- the fear that was bubbling up from her chest. Her grip on the dagger tightened, her pale knuckles turned to white. She wondered if he could smell it on her. She wondered if this was the end. But it couldn't be. No, the Gods would help her see this through. They had to. And what happened after was of little concern. If this was to be the end, then that's what would happen. But it wouldn't happen a second too soon.

Her green eyes scanned the skinwalker carefully. The dark of his hair, the scar on his cheek, the way his eyes seemed to catch every glimmer of light and cast it back outward. There was nothing in him but a hunger, she could see it. She could see it all over his face. But mostly, she could see it in his eyes. Bethany held out her dagger, her bottom lip quivered as she steadied her feet hard against the ground. 

"Now, if this is the way it's to be, then this is the way it's to be. You can have me when I'm finished, but not a moment sooner. Do you understand me, wolf? Not one. Second. Sooner."

She moved without tearing her eyes from him, her feet moving carefully so not to distract her. There was no way she would let the creature have her, she would run fast and hard, and if he caught her she would fight. She would fight tooth and nail until the life drained from her body. The Veers were not in Asena's favour, she knew this. The goddess had turned a deaf ear to Bethany's mother's prayers. She had allowed her people to ravage the body of her father. Death by the hand -- no, claws -- of a skinwalker was not entirely shocking. Unwelcome, but not a shock. 

But she was an innocent in this. Whatever happened thirty years ago, she had played no part in it. 

Oh, but perhaps this wasn't as it seemed. Bethany stopped moving, her eyes narrowed slightly as the gears turned inside her head. The corners of her lips twisted into a small smile. Perhaps this was a gift. In thirty-six years, not once had Bethany encountered a godly creature. Not once until now. Now, when she traveled deep into the forest where dangers were high and the hope of survival was little. Perhaps unbeknownst to the skinwalker, he was meant for her protection.

"I've come to pay homage to Cern's shrine. I'll get there faster if you help me find my way unharmed. If you still wish to kill me when I'm finished, then you may. But if you kill me now, the gods will not thank you.

I have not broken your laws, so Varahk will judge you. I am unwed, and therefore protected by Isonade. I bear gifts to Cern and if you kill me before they're delivered  the forest will no longer be your ally. Three strikes against you. Three strikes. Unless I allow it.

Keep me safe, and I shall. I'm the only fool you'll find in the forest for days."

Faced against a wolf, she would be a fox. Twisting words in her favour, knowing what would keep her alive. She could only hope that the skinwalker would decide she was too much trouble in the end. Or hope with the heart of a fool that she could outrun him.

[bethveer]

general housekeeping

replies to finish: victoria, vilkas

waiting on: roman, rohan

[roman-birch-deactivated20140430]

Flickering || Roman and Bethany

[roman-birch-deactivated20140430]

Roman nodded, slightly worried about his companion. She seemed ill. Hopefully it was nothing a few drinks and a night’s rest couldn’t fix. Roman ordered two drinks, another for himself and one for Bethany. He slid it across the rough wood counter-top towards Beth. He took his own drink and gulped it down, relishing the bitter liquid as it slid past his throat. In his years of life, Roman had found that the best way to deal with problems was simply to not deal with them at all, instead hiding them away in a tankard. 

He laughed at her next statement. “I suppose that’s true. But everyone finds themselves in this place sooner or later.”  They were both tired…perhaps for different reasons, but they had both come to this alehouse tonight. “Not everyone shares the same struggles, but you and I have some in common. Bad luck seems to follow us around. You more so than I.” 

Roman felt that he had had bad luck in his life—one of his best friends being crushed in a mine accident, falling in love with a girl only to have her die while giving birth to his daughter—but he had to recognize that both Veers had it worse. Roman didn’t often feel pity for anyone—he hated it when it was directed at him, but he couldn’t help but feel for both sisters.

But Roman never voiced this pity, he had always tried to treat Bethany just as gruffly as he did everyone else. 

When they were young and close. Roman nodded, remembering his own childhood. He hadn’t had a lot of time to run around when he was little, but he still remembered certain days, dancing through the village with a group of motley kids. They had been quite a ragtag, energetic group. But age and adulthood came to them all in turn, and the kids grew into adults, adults with their own lives and jobs, who rarely interacted beyond a friendly hello when their paths crossed. There were even some who had died. 

Roman nodded, looking down at his drink and then back to the girl with the green eyes. “We were close, weren’t we? Seems like that was forever ago. So much has seemingly changed since then…but lots of it is all just the same,” Roman took another drink, draining another tankard. “The village looks like it always does, and kids still run in the streets, we still have miners, schoolteachers, leaders, store owners…and yet something has changed. I just can’t put my finger on it. Gods know, I suppose.” 

All of this depressing, nostalgic talk was starting to stir up more bitterness. How could everything still be the same? How could the sun still shine and kids still laugh and play? Roman had grown disillusioned, perhaps, or maybe middle age had simply made him bitter. But being with Bethany always helped to put things in perspective for him. So many bad things had happened to the Veers—very well publicized things—but she was still a ray of sunshine in the village. How could she possibly do it? Maybe she was simply stronger than Roman was. 

[bethveer]

"You've changed." 

Her voice was matter of fact. There was no real feeling behind it. That was simply the truth. All the things in the village had stayed relatively the same except for them. Age had withered them, loss belittled them, time worn them down. He wore every chink in his armour clear on his face, she tried to conceal it to a much deeper place. A place that no one knew. Bethany wore the face of a woman without pain, she carried a heart of regrets. Without the gods, she would be worse off. They had saved her life. She lived for them, for the children. She lived for the hope of tomorrow. 

Roman lived in the murky visions of the past. Or so it seemed. He was no longer the boys he had known in her youth, the boy she had loved as her own kin. She wanted to reach out and touch him. It seemed like it had been so long, and yet it seemed like it had been mere moments. They sat like strangers, it stung like the thorn of a blackberry bush. 

"I mean, that's the thing that's changed. You. Me. People change, places don't. The Gods don't."

Bethany wrapped her slender fingers around the mug of ale. She sat up carefully, as if taking a sip was some task she had to mentally prepare for. Maybe it was. She was committing to a flagon of conversation. There was a threat that memories might be shared, faces recalled. Dani, Henry. She couldn't bear to hear their names in one sentence. She couldn't bear to hear their names fall from his tongue. 

She picked up the flagon and took a sip, it went down warm and bitter. It went down like a hard summer night. Her face scrunched together as she set the drink down, wiping the corners of her mouth with her thumb. After a short sigh, she looked at him hard. She took him in from top to toes. It was a shame he couldn't have found some way to be happy, to spare himself from the anguish of living a hard life. It broke her heart to see him bedraggled and broken. It broke her to see him like her.

"You know, I resent that you think I'm unlucky. I'm perfectly lucky. I have a sister that loves me, I have the children at school, I'm alive. I'm happy. And I have friends that I love," she reached out and put a hand over his arm for a fraction of a second. "Friends that I miss."

[bethveer]

Squeaky swings and tall grass  The longest shadows ever cast  The water's warm and children swim  And we frolicked about in our summer skin  I don't recall a single care  Just greenery and humid air  Then Labor day came and went  And we shed what was left of our summer skin 

Saoirse Ronan as young Bethany

Diego Boneta as young Roman

Zoe Kravitz as young Gwyneth

[valeria-ve]

[bethveer]

A Bower Scene || Vilkas and Bethany

She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders with one hand, examining the broken skin of the other palm. Wind rustled the leaves of the trees and she felt a tingle run down her spine. Fear was real, fear was visceral, fear was all that she knew now. If Carina knew where she was, there would be hell to pay. It was dangerous and deadly, and she made the choice to break the laws that her sister had set forth. But had the new rules been made for protection, or had they been made out of spite? Bethany had a hard time knowing for sure. She had a harder time deciphering whether or not the gods meant for this to be such a test. Did they deter her from their shrines out of hatred, or were they just testing her?

The latter, probably. But she certainly wasn't happy with the effects those tests had on her. Her fingers shook, her whole body shook. She felt sick to her stomach, her head felt light. The lack of sleep, no doubt. This was too much, she was pushing too hard. Bethany needed to rest, she needed to give in. But she couldn’t rest now, she needed to press on. Cern had waited long enough for her offerings, she didn't want to make him wait any longer. Years ago, Beth swore to him that she would give him the rights he deserved. It had been six months, too long. When times were better, she went twice a month. When times were worse, she went every two months. Now times were the worst, and it seemed she was slacking on her duties. She didn't want to know what pain would be brought upon her family if she failed to do this one thing. Give Cern this one offering.

The circumstances were higher now, though. There was more to lose. She slipped back to the flames, to the fire. The screaming, the crying, the destruction. It was more important to pay the gods their respect now than it ever was before. It was the only hope they had of survival. If Carina failed to protect her people from the wrath of the gods, then it was up to the younger Veer. Yes, that seemed right. One would lead them, and the other would protect them. How strange that seemed to her. How unreal.

Carefully she stood up, using her dagger to tear part of her cloak off so she could wrap the cloth around her wounded hand. With a shaky exhale, she pulled the bag back over her shoulder. It was full of wine and bread and cheeses. Gifts for the god of the forest. Of fine arts. Of children. Of children. Perhaps at the very least he would protect the children in times of dire circumstances. If nothing else, Bethany would pray for him to protect them. Pray for them to find their own ways in spite of her sister's poison words.

Oh, how she hated that she thought such venomous thoughts towards Carina. No, not about Carina. Simply about Carina's ideals. Or lack of them. She would lead her people to ruin before admitting her own strife was because of her family's failures to follow the old laws. She would ensnare all of Braemer in the trap their father had laid out thirty years ago. Bethany would not stand for it. She would press on. Or she would try, at least.

There was a noise in the wood before her. Her green eyes narrowed as she tried to see what the forest held. Danger, no doubt. She had faced moments of fear here before, this was never a happy trail. More often than not, it was nothing that could really hurt her. But more often than not, she had simply been smart enough to travel at dawn.

She reached down slowly, sliding a hand down to her ankle and pulling out a dagger. She whispered to the wind.

“I come to pay tribute to the old gods, I carry their protection until my task is done.”