Revna climbs.

The mountain peak sits well above her, and so she settles on climbing to the top. Her goals sit high above her, like the peak, and so she must climb mountains to reach them. Today, her goal is to reach a lookout that will let her see the landscape for miles. Because, despite how long she has been here, Amaryllis is still quite the mystery to the Sigrun woman.

It is not long before she realizes that this climb, when the very world around her seems to be tearing at the seams, is probably a mistake. Dark clouds begin to gather in the distance, stark and threatening against an otherwise clear sky. A distant rumble is her next warning, but she is already halfway up the mountain by then. She stops, pausing along the rocky path. She's low enough that there are still trees here, and the overlook sits well above her still. The weather is turning. She can feel the charge to the air. No, today is not the day for her to reach the top.

So Revna stops there, beneath the trees lower on the slopes of the mountain that leads to the lookout and she begins to study the landscape around her. She can see that there have been recent changes to the slopes. Rocks have slipped from their ancient positions and tumbled down, causing entire sections to slide. So far her path had been unbroken, but she wonders how long it would have been before she had come to the carnage left behind by a rockslide. No, perhaps now was not the time for climbing mountains, when Amaryllis was falling apart around their very ears.

The storm moves in, the sound of thunder clashing overhead. A flash of lightning, still a few miles away, brings her attention back to the skies. This weather is strange, and not at all what she has come to expect from the island. What was Vellen after with all of this?

The next crash of thunder is so loud that it startles her from her thoughtful watching of the skies. Though she is a woman not easily frightened, she jumps as the lightning cracks. Vellen, she prays silently to her husband's - and now hers, too - god. I don't know what you want from me, but let me make it out of this alive. And then she begins her careful descent, just as the rain begins to fall.

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+1 - Make a BWP-related post
+2 - Study one of the natural phenomena occurring
+2 - Pray to a god or deity for guidance
+2 - Analyze the changes being made to the land

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the fur at his nape bristled at the oncoming storm -- he had to force himself to keep it smooth. the clouds were pregnant with rain and when it finally fell it was as if all the water contained in their dark masses was being released at once, something torrential, almost wrathful. electricity jumped across the sky, a brilliant and jagged form that illuminated his surroundings for a breathtaking moment. he blinked away the impression it left on his eyes, purple-grey floaters that rendered him virtually blind. his nostrils flared with the smell of ozone, of wet soil. water -- moving water -- was sacred to him and his God, and isak wondered what His intentions were in cleansing the world with such intensity, an immense baptism which left no stone unturned in its ferocity. the rainwater crept into his eyes, rushed into gullies, percolated through every last inch of ground and animal, and all the while lightning arced mutely overhead. for a moment the figure of a lioness, uphill, was outlined by pale brilliance. curiosity piqued, he looked onwards, ready to assist if needed. he was interested in her brazenness, her reaction to the precarious path laid out in front of her. @Revna

Visibility diminishes the moment the rain begins to fall. The dark clouds overhead already blot out the sun, and now the torrential rain makes it difficult to to see very far beyond her own muzzle and the ground where she places her paws. Though the rain only just started, the trail immediately becomes more treacherous by the water that runs in rivulets down the mountain.

The thunder rumbles overhead and Revna pins her ears to her head, regretting her decision to wander away from home today. She'd much rather be in her den with her wife, or perhaps speaking with her son. But there was no telling what weather the Brook would be experiencing now. Things across Amaryllis seem to be unpredictable, with strange weather phenomena plaguing everyone everywhere. No place has been spared.

Taking a few hesitant steps, Revna slips slightly on the slope, skidding a few feet down the rocky trail before she catches herself. The fresh rain hasn't yet soaked into the ground, making this far more difficult than it should be. A flash of lightning briefly illuminates the world, and as she looks up she catches sight of the form of a lion standing farther down the path. What were they doing here, and why were they not trying to escape the mountain as she was?

It takes a few more difficult moments for her to reach him, and by the time she does her black pelt is drenched with the rain. She's already tired, but she knows she has to make it down the mountain and out of the weather. As she approaches she only slows a little, her eyes darting over to the dark-pelted man. "I'd get off the mountain if I were you," she suggests, an invitation to join her on the way down if he likes. But she doesn't intend to remain here.

@Isak

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+1 - Make a BWP-related post
+2 - Study one of the natural phenomena occurring

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"smart," he conceded, almost shouting through the rain. "i was afraid you weren't going to make it." he looked down, noted the water rushing past his ankles. the thin stream from just a few minutes ago had now grown to a steady rush that demanded at least a little bit of fear. a smattering of debris -- loose rocks and small branches -- whirled on the hectic surface of the whitewater. steering clear of the worst, he turned to follow the lioness in the dark. "this, ah, fördömd[1] weather. it has been awful lately." then, as if to shirk the conventions of small talk, he changed tack abruptly. "gud är arg." he smiled toothily to himself. "God is angry." @Revna [1]fördömd = cursed, blasted, damned

Her gaze flicks to him as she passes, his words of doubt touching on feelings that she harbored in her heart, afraid to give them voice just yet. "Vellen will not have me this night," she says in response, solemnly, though she is afraid that he is trying to take her with the doubts that reside within her.

The thunder rings out over head, mere moments after lightning illuminates the sky. The water rushing down the mountain is quickly becoming a dangerous torrent. If they don't leave now, they may never leave. So she is relieved to see the stranger turn to follow her as she passes him. She isn't ready for any heroics today.

The word he uses to describe the weather is foreign, but has a similar structure and sound to her family's word for damned, and she is inclined to agree that the weather has been damned lately. "It has been bad," she mutters, bending her head against the wind and rain from the storm.

Then he dives right into the heart of the matter, and she is inclined to agree with that sentiment as well. "Já," she says with a nod, her voice strained. "Guð er mjög reiður." And Vellen must be angry indeed, if he was throwing so much turmoil at them. What has the family done to anger their god?

@Isak

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+1 - Make a BWP-related post

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she has been the first believer he has met on his travels here. secretly, he is overjoyed at the straightforwardness of her faith. she is a welcome respite from the agnostics he has met so far. "vellen," he replied, though the cant of his head implied a question. rainwater chased down the length of his whiskers, as off a gutter. he was delighted to hear her respond in a foreign language familiar enough for him to parse its meaning. it was as if they were inhabitants of strange lands that had been separated for millennia and had now just been reunited. something dawned on him then -- the fresh memory of adalwolf, who had spoken in a language similar to his own, and more importantly, who had spoken of a cruel god. his eyes widened. "i am sorry, but i had just realized..." he backtracked, thoughts sent scrambling in the wake of his revelation. "you are sigrun?" had the rain not been so intense, he might've stopped in his tracks. @Revna

She doesn't miss the question in his word, or in the tilt of his head, as he repeats the name of her husband's - her? - god. She is so used to praying to Vellen now that it has become an automatic thing. Something she brings up without thought. He seems receptive, though, as the rain pours from the sky, water rushing in torrents down the mountain around them.

"A god of the sea," she replies briefly, frankly. Ever tight-lipped with the family's rituals, with enemies among the residents of Amaryllis.

And then comes the next question - that of her surname. Her eyes darken, suspicion taking root there, and her gaze cuts sideways to him, judging. Is he one of the enemies they have made her? He doesn't seem like it, but his knowledge of the name makes her wonder. She has to tread carefully here.

"Revna Sigrun," she offers in response. "You know my husband's family?" Because she is starting to see a distinction now that she has been with Eira more than Elias, and she is wondering if she can still consider herself Sigrun when she has doubts about her own future with her wife.

@Isak

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his suspicions were confirmed; his heartbeat quickened. what did adalwolf rike have to say about the sigrun? they pledged themselves to an ocean god, vellen, they drowned their children. were their wives to share the same belief? isak glanced at this woman's wrists and paws, trying to envision them clutched over the head of a child, shoving it underwater as it thrashed and floundered and gasped for breath -- or perhaps they did it even younger, did it when there was not as much resistance -- he blinked, wincing at the morbidity of his thoughts. "no, not personally. but i've heard... interesting things," he admitted, thinking back on his encounter with the rike man in the tundra. he faced her gingerly, almost reluctant, unsure of the conversation's trajectory. he understood vaguely that this could end quite poorly for him if he wasn't careful. picking up his pace, he loped towards an outcropping of rock. the space beneath was vertically small but long, just enough to fit two crouched bodies without any physical contact. "i am isak, a traveling priest," he said, mustering a smile and gesturing to said shelter. "come, let us take cover here." @Revna

Her defenses begin to rise, her body tense, but not for attack. Whenever someone has heard of their family - their religion, even - it is rare that they have heard from the source, and instead they have often learned from a Sigrun enemy. She has no reason to suspect that this is any different with this male, and is certain that the version he received was colored with bias and hatred.

"I'm sure you have," she responds, her voice guarded, careful. Her eyes glance to the side without her head turning, studying them from the periphery of her vision. If he is a Rike sympathizer then she will defend herself if need be, but she isn't looking for a fight. She is tired of fighting, and just wants some peace with her wife. If she comes home injured there will be questions to answer, and Eira doesn't need more violence in her life.

He picks up the pace, moving forward, and she lets him get ahead of her, where she can watch him a little more carefully. He manages to locate an outcrop of rock, with some shelter to be had - something she would be grateful for, in this weather - and gestures towards it, inviting her in.

She obliges, stepping into the shelter and making space for him to follow suit. Though there is nothing threatening about her posture, she is tense, her eyes wary. "What are you a priest of?" she questions @Isak, curious. She can ask him about his knowledge later, or perhaps he can share with her when he feels more comfortable.

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"the hjärtegud." he supplied, as they folded themselves under the rock. "He is the god of light, knowledge, water..." "He is the creator of the ljusvärld. from there, stems all redemption." memories of the monastery broke through the surface of his mind, all blurry outlines, the patchwork gestalt of his life. the hurt he had felt just before his departure, fleeting but serrated moments of rage, denial, and betrayal -- so great was his wretchedness that he had almost begged to remain. he forged onwards, his recollections calmer now. days as a bruised young man, burdened with so much hatred against the world. days filled with study, spent hanging on to every word that fell from his mentor's mouth, rapt. "the hjärtegud is merciful. to know yourself is to know Him. we baptize ourselves in rivers and streams to receive His forgiveness, and gain holy insight." he found and settled into the ebb of the conversation. the noise of rain rushed in to fill the silence before he spoke again, this time more pensive, his sentences meted out to a miserly and weighted tempo. "to speak truthfully, revna, i grew up in a broken home. without this i would not be, today. that, i do not doubt." he smiled then, sheepish, though the intensity did not leave his face. "apologies. i ramble on and on." the tip of his tail flicked back and forth over the stone floor, a nervous tic from childhood. @Revna