As promised Anglea gathered her young one and told her a bit about the place she would be living. Though her mom made the dark halls sound more like a wonderland that she could brighten up and explore she was a tad worried. Her gold eyes stared up at her mother who seemed happy about the arrangement. "What if he doesn't like it?"

"If he doesn't like it then you get to come home and I'll have to think of another way to bond." That was the truth plain and simple but Angela lifted her chin up and smiled. "My darling, you are a breath of fresh air and you will continue to be so even in those basalt halls." Her mother brushed her red hair past her. "You should play that song you wrote. The one for the violin."

"The one that I wrote for last year's festival?" Calanthe asked and Angela merely nodded. "Do you think he would like that? Isn't he.."

"Undead dear, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy life in general. Child, for there to be death there has to be life. We are a never ending cycle that dances through time."

–
Calanthe recalled the conversation as she pulled the winter cloak around herself. It was cold as the carriage her mother placed her in was travelling through the winter lands. She seen the light disappear and heard the horses get restless. The helpers with her were a bit concerned when she slung open the carriage door as they road and hung out of it to stare up at the Eyrie.

This was home. She was pulled back in and the door closed. Sitting impatient there she began to tighten the strings on her intruments making sure they were ready. She had such few possessions she wanted to bring with her. Looking out of the windows of the carriage she spotted the lights and noticed their blue green color.

For the most part she was use to the summer weather of the Temple's realm and the hot heat of Arri. Winter was not kind to her. Finally the carriage stopped and she got out in a hurry. It had been a rather long ridefor her as she carried with her the violin that her mother had suggested. It was better time than ever. 

The clergy would be right behind her carrying her possessions but she looked towards the men at the door and gulped. This was going to be hard for someone like her. She was a tiny bit afraid but still she pressured through. She went through the halls and she did not stop. There was now a good sized gap because her and the clergy.

As soon as the curtain was drain she started to play. The sound flooded the halls as she came up to lay her eyes on the man she would be living with but she decided to close them and just play the Festival's song. The song reminded her heavily of summer and she played. The bow going against the strings almost echoed through the quiet halls. The performance was a long one as she managed to go around the fire and go close to where he was.

She brought the performance to a close and looked up at him from under her cloak's hood. Her gold eyes watching him and wondering what was going through his mind.

It had not been too long since Angela had made her offer, the fostering of one of her daughters in his household, Bryn had set his attendants into a flurry of motion, a room to be made suitable for a guest of high standing and all the necessities for her comfort to be procured. In many ways this was one of the first tests of him as a member of the pantheon, not in terms of his role as deity but rather in relating to others of his kind. Part of him was glad to have another presence here besides those of his priests and the supplicants, both in a sense wanted something from him, or saw him as something distant and remote, he became an embodiment of an idea rather than a person, but then again he supposed that was precisely what a god was. The day had been no different from many in the Eyrie, a few supplicants, most who left without what they desired, but a few who had pleaded their cases well enough, and had someone able to offer their time, so that they or a loved one could live longer. 

But something was stirring in the air, it brought to him a breath of freshness that was at odds with the barren landscape his holding inhabited, indeed it reminded him of the high moors that still covered some of the less well travelled regions of the Highlands. Something told him that Angela's daughter had arrived. It was at that moment that the curtain parted and she stepped into his hall.

As she played he was taken back to summers long gone, summers as a man, a warrior, before the trials of leadership, when he would engage in the constant raiding that passed for sport among his people. He sat upon his white marble throne and the years seemed to melt away from him, lines of care which only someone stood close might notice eased at the corners of his eyes, his lips were perhaps a little less thin, a gentler look to them. His posture remained firm, and his head high, but his eyes were closed as he let himself drift on the tides of music. It was only when she stopped that he opened his eyes to take in the figure who now stood at the foot of his dais.

Rising slowly, the black shroud which he still always wore billowing slightly in a breeze that no mortal could feel, he smiled, gentle and warm. He stepped down, coming to her level, and noting a strange irony that in this hall it was life's emissary who was hooded, and he, who had once hid his face from the sun that bared his. When at last he stood before her at the foot of his dais he bowed his head to her and said, "Welcome to my halls Calanthe, may you find a welcome fitting of your station and all hospitality extended towards you as I would one of my own. I name you honoured hearth guest…" He paused, "And near cousin as your mother has named me as kin." While of course they were not truly related Angela had called Bryn a sibling, as they were both gods, and so it felt like honouring Angela's statement by naming her daughter as kind likewise.

Calanthe's gold eyes went to him and studied his features. He certainly did not appear to be evil or undead. She lowered her hood and a rush of red curls came spilling out. Her hair wasn't as long as her mother's but it was the same shade. Her skin was paler by comparison. "Thank you for your kindness. My mother told me there was not a need to be formal with you. May I call you Bryn?"

Looking around the room she was not reminded of home but it was something new. She looked at the fire and then at the clergy who left her possessions by her. "I'm afraid that my possessions are very few. We have what we need and for me those are my instruments and items I use for my music. That must sound silly… My mother has everything at home and we don't want anything."

Looking at Bryn and locking her eyes with his. "Except to be helpful to her. However, it is a very hard task to be helpful to a goddess. I am here to brighten your halls and give you companionship. Rosenites live a long time and most of us don't mind things like this." Studying his eyes she smiled at him. "You are a very kind man. I can see it in your eyes. You are a lot like my mother in various ways." 

She took off her fur cloak and put it down on her pile of possessions. She wore a tailored dress fit to her body perfectly. It was a very soft cream against her light skin complimenting her gold eyes and red hair. "I really do look forward to living here and writing songs and tales about you, this place, and the world around."

He saw at least a measure of appraisal in Calanthe's gaze, but then he supposed he couldn't be too surprised at that, it was common knowledge that he was undead, although his priests had informed him that the nature of his undeath was, at least for the moment a mystery to most. He was sure that eventually the legend of a reanimated ancient warrior who on his return could appear as a man, a withered corpse or a skeleton would come to be known, but for now he was satisfied to appear human. When she lowered her hood, Calanthe's parentage became very obvious, although paler than her mother, although nowhere near Bryn's pallor, her hair was the exact shade, and no one who had seen Angela would deny that this was her daughter. Her statement that she'd been told there was no need for formality was greeted with a nod, "Certainly, that formality on my part was something from my lifetime. When welcoming a guest into your home you made a formal statement as by taking them in you took on responsibility towards them." Food, shelter and defence were all things expected of a host, "But now that's done, yes, please call me Bryn and I'll call you Calanthe, unless you have a familiar name you prefer." 

He shrugged with regards to her scant possessions, "We're not especially materialistic here, so few possessions will not set you apart." with a gesture towards a small archway next to the dais, "I've had quarters prepared for you in my private wing, that way you won't step out of your room and run into a group of supplicants." Depending on the state they were in that could be a distressing sight for anyone. "If you have a need for anything from clothing to food simply tell me, or a priest who will see to it." While most of his small priesthood travelled the world, some acted as his personal attendants within the Eyrie, mostly they were neophytes who would then be sent out into the world. The mention of wanting to be helpful to her mother brought a smile to Bryn's face, although it had a slightly sad edge to it. "I do envy Angela her family, even living I was something of a solitary man, chieftains had to care for their entire people, but in doing so I found there to not be enough time to care for one person alone." Being a god now separated him that much further from people, they now saw him almost exclusively as his status rather than as a man.

Calanthe's compliment to his character warmed the smile a little, "Thank you for saying as such. I try to be fair and never to be needlessly cruel." He tried to do what he could for those who offered him enough to work with, and even those he sent on their way without granting their request were at least provisioned for their journey.

Slipping off her cloak brought Bryn's attention to her figure, while dead, in his current form he wasn't without desire. But he smothered that down, Calanthe was his guest and a bond between himself and her mother. Although thinking about it Angela's nature as a fertility goddess didn't exactly negate the possibility that she had chosen Calanthe to appeal to Bryn. "I will do my utmost to make sure that you will enjoy your living here, and I will show you the Highlands through my eyes." He foresaw that they would spend a great deal of time outside. "You will also sit in with me as I meet those who ask a boon." He indicated to the throne, "In my living days bards would often sit on a gilded stool beside a chieftain, advising on and recording what took place."

Calanthe shook her head. "Calanthe is fine unless you find a name you would rather call me by. My mother is normally all for nicknames unless we are in trouble though that is unique to each of the children what trouble really is." A soft laugh left her lips as she thought of her sisters and brothers.

Nodding with him she smiled. "Thank you for doing that. I've seen a great number of things while in the company of my mother so I would like to believe they would not bother me too greatly. I do greatly appreciate the lengths you have gone so far to take care of me while I'm here." Talking about her mother made her eyes light up more but also she was sad. "Mother doesn't have enough time in the day to do everything. You'll often find her up all hours of the night doing something. During the day she will play with my youngest sister and watch over her lessons if there is time. She teaches my siblings magic and swordplay if she can. While being a Goddess is a huge blessing for her there is also how much she can't be there for us. I envy her but I would not want to be in her position. I'm not sure how she stays sane." 

She was happy he took her compliment like he did and it showed how warm he was. "You are like my mother in a lot of ways. I had no idea that was even a possibility." She chuckled lightly and looked about the room still taking in everything.

"Oh that would be wonderful! I have a sister who was raised in the Highlands, well at least part of the time. I've always wanted to see it. I would also be quite honored to sit and listen in to those who ask you for a boon. It would help greatly in the songs I write and I'm sure it would help you as well." It would take time to adjust to this life but she gave him a smile.

"It's never too soon to start though. I will admit I am not use to the cold weather. Arri and the Sundered Gardens are always hot like the summer months. It will take me some time to get use to it." She was excited to get started and more so figure out where to go from there. "So what is the first thing you will show me Bryn?"

He shook his head, "Calanthe for now then. I've never been a creative one with nicknames." After all most of his people had a first name and a description rather than the second names which seemed to have come about since his death. He chuckled at the idea of a different kind of trouble unique to each of her siblings. "So what was your brand of trouble?"

From what he'd heard since Angela's visit was that she was as much a healer as a fertility deity, so he imagined Calanthe had seen many who were wounded or ill. But it was something quite different to see someone who knew there was no cure and that they only had a brief space of time. Some were defiant, demanding to be saved, others turned inwards, becoming withdrawn. Each dealt with it differently, but each supplicant knew that it was coming. The description of Angela's life was passing familiar to Bryn, at least in that he was often sat on his throne long hours listening to pleas. Thankfully the dead left him alone for the most part, only the lost souls needing his guidance to pass on. "I think in part, deities are given a kind of immunity to those kinds of wears and stresses, allowing us to fill our roles."

Again Calanthe likened him to Angela, which he took as the compliment it was meant to be. "She and I are in some ways the reverse and obverse of a coin, opposite ends of a cycle, so it's not too surprising that we share some parts of our outlook." He chuckled a little at her surprise, "She was also a death goddess as I'm sure you know, so perhaps that shaped her as it has begun shaping me."

When she said she'd like to sit in he nodded, and made a mental note to inform one of his priests that a bard's stool would be needed beside his throne. Although he was sure Calanthe wouldn't be present at every visit from a supplicant she would be there enough to make it a permanent fixture of her stay. Then they moved on to their next step. Bry gave a slight shrug, "Perhaps I should take you to your room, so you can at least see where you'll be staying, and if you'll need anything. Then we can see about riding out, it's early afternoon so enough time before we lose the light." Granted for about a mile surrounding the Eyrie it made no difference as to the time as there was no light, but he planned to take her further afield.

Calanthe gave him a mischievous smile and laughed. "I played romantic music into the wee hours of the morning when I was suppose to be sleeping. I don't remember how many times she came home from one of her pub trips and took away my instruments so I slept. I've never been the rebellious kind so at least I gave her some sort of break."

Nodding to him she let him know that she did understand. "Watched a man come into my mother's life and die very slowly. Watched what that does to someone in love. It was very sad. I do know about my mother's past but that's what makes her so understanding towards all forms of life."

Calanthe nodded and took his arm chuckling. He was a lot larger than she was now that she looked at him and sized herself up next to him. "I would like that. Even if we lose light we can see in the darkness quite well. Not only that but I find the night very beautiful when under the two moons and all the stars in the sky." She blushed a bit as she got lost in and thought and laughed. "Though I doubt many think it as romantic as I do."

He chuckled, it would figure that the daughter of the goddess of fertility would play romantic music, also the idea of Angela stumbling in from a pub and finding her daughter playing such song just created quite the picture in his mind. Still, better that than some of the other forms of trouble that a fertility goddess' child could get themselves into, especially if they took after their mother. Another thought to ponder another time perhaps, what effect their parentage had on Angela's children, beyond their being Rosenites.

Her description of watching one of her mother's lovers die slowly struck home for Bryn, while he didn't oversee the causes of death for the souls he was lord over, many of them carried traces of it over the boundary with them. Those who had suffered a prolonged wait often were the ones who seemed most glad to be shrugging away their life. But Calanthe was right, it was far worse for those left behind, he often saw their faces alongside their dying relative or partner, wanting more time, but dreading the cost to both them and the one dying. And in many cases not just the cost of that extra time taken by Bryn. "It's for similar reasons that I grant so few requests for more time. There seems to be little point in drawing pain out just to hold on a few days more."

The move onto more pleasant matters brightened his mood suitably. Leading her through the doorway beside the dais Bryn led her to a door identical to the iron-bounds ones that studded the was throughout the Eyrie, save that on the handle of this one was tied a red ribbon. Bryn nodded to it saying, "I thought this would help prevent you getting lost until you're more familiar with the layout of the Eyrie." Opening the door led to a room that had been well furnished, a large four poster bed, rugs and carpets covering in the stone floor and all the wardrobes and chests needed to store all a person could desire, in a small hearth a fire blazed merrily. "This is yours so long as you stay here." Going to the door and indicating another a little further along the opposite wall. "My chambers are through there should you need anything."

Calanthe nodded to him. It was different to be on the outside looking in. She had been an adult when her mother had made the choice to have Iva. It wasn't often she saw her mother take pleasure in a man's presence for more than just his body. Calanthe wasn't like most of her sisters where she was eager to please just for sex. She wanted that connection that seemed to elude her mother.

Getting to the happier part of their conversation she held onto his arm and looked at the red ribbon. "You even have it marked for me?" She smiled up at him. "Is that a tradition as well?" She was not not familiar with his lifestyle but she thought about it and chuckled. "There was once a god that use to say that heart strings were made of the purest silk but always red in color." 

She knew a bunch of stories from her time studying under bards. She had traveled for a time before coming home to be with her mother. Looking inside the room she was happy with how cheery the room appeared. She did not know if he had done so for her or if this was merely his style. She had her things brought in and set her violin upon a dresser. Looking around the room she slyly looked at Bryn and smiled. "Thank you. I mean for everything even the chance to be more to my mother than I was. It is not often a child of a goddess can do something for their parent. Not that I am here just for her! I thought it would be a good opportunity to learn something new."

She rubbed her arm as she got nervous. "When will we go riding in the Highlands?" She was excited. "Would you like music on our trip?" Calanthe was all too eager to learn how to please the man and maybe it showed from how fast her thoughts were coming to her. She took a deep breath in to calm herself down. "Will you tell me more about your Highlands. I'm sure they have changed since you were living."

Although not privy to Calanthe's thoughts on wanting more than simple pleasure it would have been a sentiment Bryn would agree with, it had never been something that appealed to him, he was no innocent, but pleasure without connection was a hollow thing at best. But her question about the red ribbon brought a grin and a shake of his head, "Not a tradition, just an idea to make sure you can tell which door is yours, all the doors look alike so for a while it might be easy to get turned around." What she said about the god who said heart strings were red silk was curious. "Perhaps you'll tell me more about this god sometime, sounds like they had an interesting view of the world." He imagined thanks to her bardic training she'd know many stories that he had never heard of, indeed he wouldn't be the least surprised if common legends in this time were unknown to him, or had even occurred after he'd lived.

He waved away Calanthe's thanks for the room, "You are my guest, it is the least I could do. My own quarters are much the same, with the addition of a small library and study which you're welcome to use. Although I would warn against the black bound books, someone unwary reading them might find themselves being the one read." The black books were collected treatises on necromancy and the undead, binding together several different works, most of which were certainly not books for the dabbler or untutored, in particular the Liber Mortis had an evil reputation. But he moved on, "I'm sure you will do your mother proud, and learn much for yourself."

He left the room and walked further along the passage, which began to curl back along itself and slope downwards. The torches here were the same greenish flame as all the others, but here rather than eerie they felt more like a natural part of the building. Eventually the passage ended in what could only be described as a stable, a stable within a cavern. There was only one occupant currently, a black stallion whose ears pricked up the moment Bryn entered the stable. He came over to the horse, picking up a saddle as he did so, the saddle being of an ancient design no longer used by much of the world, with four distinct prongs at each corner. He indicated the horse, "This is Ahearn, I found him on the Highlands soon after I woke, and found the remains of my old saddle nearby, I was able to find a saddler who could follow my instructions for remaking the saddle." Ahearn coat gleamed in the torchlight, almost having the sheen of a raven's wing. "He's a normal horse as far as I can tell, but so responsive that it's more like thinking that riding him." With that he began to fit the tack onto Ahearn.