Hestia :3
forward dated about a week or so!

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The stars were all kinds of wrong, here. Not a single familiar constellation. And so Nate was forced to hold the opinion that his cardinal directions might also be a little off. Who was to say the sun rose in the east and met the moon on a westward trail, here? Maybe it was a drifter, too. He'd woken in a dark wash of red, after all, and seen nothing like that before or since.

But feeling a little industrious about the whole thing, he made his way in the direction he guessed would be South if this was a place like home, and was pleased to see a relentment of snow after a few days in favour of a brightly-dressed forest.

It wasn't a sure answer... Pa's determination that Nate should have a proper education meant he knew that if you walked the earth upside-down, it got cold in a different direction. But it was a kernel more certainty that at least one thing here might make sense.

He'd always admired the autumn. Now he could feel it all around him in a million new sensations, and he gave himself over to the wanderlust for it. Even if just for a little while. Maybe it would clear his head. Ko-Ga even found more crows, and for a while amused himself doing cartwheels with them in the air.

By the time the light was fading, Nate realized he'd missed the best chance to reconnect with Mithwyth or find a proper hearth for the night and might end up sleeping rough.

But maybe that wouldn't be so bad, either. He could spend the night making up new names for new stars.

SKILL: ORATOR (1/5)

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The woods had that soft, in-between kind of quiet where the sun hasn’t fully given up but the dark’s already creeping in. Hestia moved slowly through it, careful, like she didn’t want to disturb whatever peace was left. The cold brushed against her coat but didn’t seem to bite — it just rolled off, like even the air had decided to be gentle with her tonight.

She spotted him before he saw her, a lone figure standing out there with his head tipped up to the sky. The way he was staring at the stars made her pause. There was something lost about it — not desperate or anything, just tired, like he’d been trying to make sense of things that didn’t want to be made sense of.

Looking for something? she said finally, voice calm and a little amused, the way someone speaks who’s seen this sort of thing a million times before. She came closer, slow enough not to spook him, her eyes soft in the fading light. I don't think, whatever you seek, is up there though.

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sticking your post in my mouth and eating it like i'm the fucking cookie moster

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Skill - Orator

Not spooking him, was, of course, open to interpretation. Nate spun at her words, and though he didn't flee or bite or growl, the sudden sharp stop of his breathing betrayed a tension regardless.

The accent thicker in his words was a mutiny, too, Well, y'see I was actually lookin' for a mysterious woman t'show up an' offer me some unsolicited prophecy. Heard this was the way t'do it... A laugh, and a smile. Still wary.

He hadn't had a single simple, Hello, my name's Barnufraud, how do you do?, since Mithwyth. But cryptic advice was still better than being ambushed, he reckoned. Or peed on.

As she came closer, his brow furrowed. There was something different about her. Older. An instinct in him knew it without the words to say why... And there was a soothing cadence in her approach, like they'd waltzed this all before, and would do so again — he'd only forgotten until now. Maybe he'd dreamed about her, once.

Grandfather's stories about wolves made them protectors. Guardians. His people loved waya dearly enough to name a clan for them. Seeing this one, Nate could believe it.

His head tilted, offering a polite flick of the ear in approximation to a hat-tip. But the spark of nervous humour had already lit a fuse to his tongue, and he teased a mite further, And here you are, right convenient like — Ma'am.

This was definitely a ma'am situation. Hopefully.

SKILL: ORATOR (2/5)

you're too sweet<3 I nom on ypurs too

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Hestia didn’t move right away when he turned toward her. She could see the tension sitting in his shoulders, the quick way he stopped breathing, and she just… let him have that moment. No reason to crowd him. When she finally spoke, her tone came out soft, almost amused.

Prophecy, huh? she said, a small breath of a laugh slipping through. Can’t help you there. I left that kind of nonsense behind a long time ago.

It was a joke, mostly. But the words tugged something in her chest all the same. She used to have people begging her for answers — whole crowds of them, kneeling, whispering, crying. Everyone wants something. Blessings, protection, warmth… she tried to give what she could, but after a while it all just… blurred together. The noise of it, the wanting. Gods were funny things in that regard—worship felt like a cage after a couple millenia. You could give everything and still never touch the people you meant to help and sometimes helping just meant breaking a different part of yourself.

She stepped a little closer, her movements easy and quiet, eyes on him. He looked tired, the kind of tired that didn’t come from walking too far either. Didn’t mean to startle you, she said, softer now. You just looked like someone who could use another voice in the dark. And some place warm to rest your head with food in your belly. She offered.

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Skill - Orator

How long ago? He wanted to say, but that seemed a bit like asking a woman her age, and he'd been raised better than to do that.

She approached, and it still felt like a kind of dance to him, with practiced steps. She would lead, and he could follow. Nate kept his eyes on her, in the way the fearful might think of as a challenge, and the hopeful as flirtation, or the proud as arrogance... but the wise would know to be nothing more or less than an earnest reach for answers not found in passing glances.

The tension continued to fade out of his shoulders, and finally he exhaled, Yeah, well, I don't think the prophecies worked out all that well for most of the folks who got 'em, so you've probably done me a favour.

Head tilting with a lopsided smile, he shrugged off her apology, Left my manners out in the cold, too, didn't I? Very kind of you to offer, Ma'am. Nate Ronan, at your service. But — I couldn't impose. Though she seemed earnest, most folks didn't prefer bringing a drifter into hearth and home.

He felt a little bad his moping might have put a sense of obligation on her, and rushed to fill the space with a more comfortable, carefree demeanor. As if she hadn't already seen the truth, and he could convince her to take the lesser offering. But then, most preferred to, didn't they? It was more polite. Fellas like me don't mind sleeping beneath the stars.

And I've got a crow around here somewhere, Ko-Ga. Named in his mother's tongue, the word was smooth like riverstone, and still stuck out jaggedly from the voice of his father all around it. He talks enough for about twenty people. Not that he'd apparently felt any compulsion to warn Nate about a mysterious stranger on the approach.

SKILL: ORATOR (3/5)

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Hestia’s mouth curved, a quiet smile playing at the edge of her lips. I wouldn’t worry too much about prophecies, she said lightly, eyes glinting like firelight caught in pale blue glass. They only ever tell half the story anyway. The rest’s up to us.

Her tone carried warmth but also something old beneath it, a patience that had learned to wait through storms and centuries alike. She stepped closer, slow and unhurried, her gaze drifting upwards briefly toward the shy in search of his crow, but coming up empty. It’s no imposition and your friend would be invited too, she said simply, the words firm but kind. A hearth’s meant to be shared. And besides— she tilted her head, eyes bright with gentle humor, —every drifter enjoys a warm bed to rest in and a full belly. Especiallywhen its free of charge, dont you agree?

The wind moved through the trees again, scattering a few more leaves between them, and she paused long enough to watch the golden ones spin down. Her voice softened when she spoke next, carrying that faint lilt that always made the air around her feel warmer. I’m Hestia, she said, as if it were an afterthought. And it’s no trouble. I’d like the company, if you don’t mind me saying so.

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Hestia. Huh, he rocked his head back in the faint singular laugh, Like the hearth goddess? Living up to your namesake. His lip quirked with a smile. His father wouldn't have approved of the enjoyment, but Nate had always liked the Greek myths in his learning.

He supposed a bandit or woman of the night would have picked something more alluring, like Aphrodite. And with nothing but a fur coat that he was pretty attached to, he didn't have anything worth stealing. Maybe she was just lonely, and a grubby stranger with a mouthy bird was better than nothing. Maybe she was just the quirky kind of nice that girls who grew up wild sometimes were.

There was still something a little too knowing in her gaze. He felt her practiced at putting people to ease, and couldn't entirely decide if he should let her do it to him.

If you're sure, Miss Hestia, I'd be obliged to you. He answered after a considerate pause. But I'd insist on making us square, after. Maybe I can forage for you tomorrow, make up what you lose out of your pantry.

Skill - Ghost

Ko-Ga was a bird. Birds knew things. So Ko-Ga knew there was something different about the she-dog with little-bird-egg fur.

This time he was quiet because he was absolutely certain Nate-Dog was safe. Unlike last time, when Ko-Ga had been sure, but not this sure.

Nate-dog would not get ambushed or peed on. This time.

But Ko-Ga watched quietly from the shadows of trees nearby, just in case.

SKILL: ORATOR (4/5)

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Hestia’s laugh was soft and low in her throat. Something like that, she said, amusement curling gently through her words. Though I don’t think the real one ever had to chase down her own dinner. If only he knew how he'd hit the nail on the head. Would he have yawned and worshipped the very ground she walked upon had he learned just who she was? For some innate reason, she didn't think he would, let alone believe her. In some way, that was comforting.

Her eyes warmed when they met his again, the robin-blue catching what little light was left between the trees. I’ve been called worse things than my own name, so I’ll take it as a compliment. She paused a beat, her gaze flicking over his expression, the careful way he measured his words. She felt kind of bad pressuring him into accepting her help, but, well that was who she was. A Goddess of hearth and home. What would she be if she did not offer weary travelers a place to lay their heads and fill their bellies.

You don’t owe me anything, she said simply, her tone firm but not unkind. You’d be surprised how little I keep, and how much that still feels like enough. A meal shared isn’t a debt. She turned then, brushing past a low branch, her fur catching the fading gold of the last sunlight. Still, she added with a faint smile, if it makes you feel better, you can help me forage in the morning. I don’t turn down an honest hand.

She motioned for him to follow, pace unhurried as the leaves whispered under her steps. There’s a stream not far from here, she went on, glancing over her shoulder. Good water, clean air, and a bit of cover from the wind. It’s not much of a hearth, but it’ll do.

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She had an easy humour and a practiced certainty about her. She didn't invite argument, but tolerated a difference of opinion. It was easy to admire a person like that. Nate decided to try taking her at face value — though it remained a deliberate choice for him, and some small part held still itself back, just in case...

He listened, mostly quiet, eyes still on her, though he smiled at Hestia's banter. When she offered to let him forage, nodded: Not a debt, then. But one good turn deserves another, and I'd sleep sounder knowing I showed you better gratitude than just my company. He wasn't sure what his company was even worth, if it didn't provide a tangible benefit. She didn't seem all that lonely.

When Hestia motioned, followed. It sounds beautiful, he replied, tilting his nose up to see if he could discern the tell of nearby water on the air. It was still a cacophony of too much input, and he mostly smelled her. That would have to be its own victory.

Have you lived here long? He asked as they walked. Had she woken up, something new altogether, like him? Or had she always been a wolf? Did the distinction matter, now? Maybe only in his mind. Maybe it only mattered for the sake of curiosity. But it seemed pleasant enough small talk to make on the surface, and as long as he didn't start raving about being born again in a very literal sense of the word, wasn't likely to make her think she'd invited a blaspheming madman to her den. He hoped.