The red head gave him a pleasant smile. "I will sing to you many stories of the old world. At least the old world that I know. Most gods had the same dull view on the world but some were very unique in the way they thought. Those gods are the best ones to write stories on." She chuckled.

"I would love to read your books just not the black ones. My mother has books that are purely off limits to the rest of the temple inhabitants. I will have to see what all your collection has in it. Sometimes the stories inside of books make beautiful songs though I find the songs and stories passed down by word of mouth are normally a lot better. Probably because the amount of people who have heard them is few and far between." She blushed at his words and nodded. "That's the idea."

Grabbing her winter cloak she followed him through the hallways. She stared at the lights and began to hum a little. The cogs in her brain were beginning to turn as she gathered a bit more on him. Those lights were beautiful yet she could understand why people were so put off by them. 

When they got to Ahearn she tied her cloak around her and moved along side him. "Aren't you a beautiful boy." She ran her fingers through his mane and smiled. "You remind me of the Nightmares that the Rosenites in Sularia breed. That is where I learned how to ride a horse." She smiled up at Bryn. "However their manes are not as beautiful as yours. Yours is more like the pitch black night when all the stars have faded. Breathtaking." She pet his mane more as she watched Bryn.

"It's good that someone could help you remake your saddle. I imagine it would have been a bit sad if they could not." She looked over the details of it and looked back towards Ahearn. "You have yourself a very caring owner Ahearn. You are a very lucky horse." She itched behind his ears and chuckled. "I can never get over how large horses are to me when they are full grown." Not to mention how tall Bryn was to her as well.

Bryn nodded his thanks with a smile, "I'm sure I will find it fascinating, although your old world may have once been my future." An odd way to think of it he guessed but true nonetheless, it might even be that he heard stories of people and events of his era told through the mask of legend. He guessed that the dull gods she mentioned were the ones who had come to represent their niche completely so that there was barely anything of the person they had once been beneath that façade. It occurred to him that if he didn't have company of someone who saw him as a person that he might have become one of those dusty beings, for not the first time he wondered at Angela's motives being more than simply creating a bond between their temples. "I'll endeavour to be one about whom you can write then."

With the subject of the off-limits books covered Bryn added, "I won't say you shouldn't read them, but there is a shelf in the library with books which may, to put it mildly, cause some blushes." He grinned a little, "I'm not entirely sure why my priests put those in there, but I thought it best to give you fair warning." Although given her mother she may well have seen such volumes before, quite possibly first editions if Bryn's guesses regarding Angela's tastes were accurate.

Ahearn didn't shy away from Calanthe, which was quite normal, if there was a fearless horse in the world it was him, but that he nuzzled back was unusual. Bryn noted, "It seems he likes you, which is not an everyday occurrence I can assure you." Indeed Bryn was pretty much the only person Ahearn let touch him. With a few last checks on the various straps attaching the saddle and reins Bryn finished putting the tack on. Giving the horse several firm strokes while listening to Calanthe's description of his mane, "A very apt steed then. As for the height, Ahearn is a lord amongst horses, taller than most by a hand or so." Although Calanthe was most certainly petite. With only the slightest of bounces he was up and into the saddle, sitting there as if he was born to in. He offered a hand to Calanthe to pull her up in front of him, where she could have a good grip thanks to the forward horns of the saddle.

Calanthe laughed a bit and shook her head. "I don't know about making me blush. The only things that really make me blush anymore are situations I find myself in. Though I've seen plenty of skin at taverns I've played in. You could probably imagine the things bar wenches do for a few coin." She could never understand the want or need to sell their bodies but it was their lifestyle and she was not one to judge too often.

She was quite happy as the horse nuzzled her back. She laid a kiss upon his snout and smiled up at Bryn. "I am glad he does! For I like him as well." She pet his snout while Bryn put the saddle upon him and she was able to watch while paying attention to the horse. "A lord stallion for a god seems quite the match." She gave him a smile before taking his hand and swinging herself up onto Ahearn's back. She was very close to Bryn now a lot closer than before.

Looking up at Bryn she gave him another smile. It was all she could do as she looked away from him and listened to the sounds around them as they started on their journey of her learning the Highlands. After all this was her home and she wanted to not only be comfortable but also be able to write about her time here. "I figure I have decades to learn about this place and write beautiful music… No matter the contents  as I'm sure not everything about your position is pleasant." 

She held onto the horns of the saddle as she leaned into Bryn and blushed some. There wasn't much room but it would do and she felt silly being shy around the man she would be playing her heart out to. Music was intimate and this was less so. Still she felt odd and hoped it wasn't anything too serious if this was how they were to spend their days.

Bryn had indeed seen what some women in bars did for coin, definitely not something he would engage in but in some ways he understood the reasoning. Sometimes when you had little you would do almost anything for that little bit more, he was also sure that there were some who actively enjoyed it. But in the end it seemed a little meaningless to muse on the whys or wherefores, during his time as a simple wight half the time he was not even capable of such things, and even when in human form his touch was chilling, now at least he was able to better control his sapping power, so now he was only a little cooler to the touch rather than icy.

The mention of a lord of horses being an apt steed for a god was met with a grin, "He was that before I became such. If I didn't know better I'd say he was of Hernystiri stock from my age, who somehow wandered into modern times." His people had been masters of the horse, during the raiding season the warriors would almost live upon the backs of their steeds, only stopping to camp and cook.

The beginning of their ride was simple enough, coming out through a wide passage in the mountain which itself led to a small pathway which meandered down its side until coming to a screened entrance. Bryn nodded to it and said, "With the lack of light no one ever seems to find this path." Of course the fact that he didn't want them to might well have something to do with it.

They passed onto the darkened plain that surrounded the Eyrie and finally Ahearn was allowed his head, the horse took the freedom with grace and speed, charging towards the clearer skies that beckoned maybe a mile away or so. The distance was soon crossed, bringing the late afternoon sunlight to fall on their faces. Bryn flinched slightly, perhaps half expecting to change once more into a skeletal creature, but he remained the same. Ahearn slowed to a meandering walk as Bryn took in the vista before them, hills and low mountains stretched as far as he could see. A slightly wry smile crossed his face, "The Highlands, barren and bleak to those that don't know them, shelter and plenty to those that do." He gestured out towards one peak, "Once between here and that peak were three tribes, each made of several clans. Constantly warring and raiding one season, then drinking and feasting together the next before starting all over again."

Calanthe gave him an entertained smile. "I can see why they can't find it. Most people don't have the sight for darkness unlike creatures like us." She held onto the saddle tightly as Ahearn took off. She let out a thrilled laughter as she kept close to Bryn. She could see her breath now in the cold wind. Reaching up she pulled her fur hood over the back of her head and used Bryn's back to keep it in place. She could feel the cold nipping at her nose.

She reached out and pet Ahearn's mane as he slowed down. Her eyes looked up at Bryn and she nodded. "It is very beautiful. The way the light hits the snow. It is almost blinding isn't it?" Her eyes drifted to many trails that animals and perhaps other people had left before them.  "Sounds very chaotic to me." She chuckled. "Though I've heard stories of nomadic Rosenites who do the same thing in Sularia."

She left go of the saddle to pull the cloak around her. It was a tad bit nipper out than she had imagined. She was not use to the snow at all. The winter out here seemed harsh but still her eyes drifted up to the sun and how it waned in the skies as the sisters came out to play. "And there the sisters waved their father in the evening skies. Never to completely reign the skies together as he goes into his deep slumber. The sisters guard the skies above while their father sleeps in the celestial city."

Instinctively she looked to Bryn for warmth almost forgetting the type of creature he was. Her eyes stared at him for a quick moment before taking a deep breath and relaxing herself. It was a lot to take in. She stared at the wide field of white and chuckled. "It is a painting. Though you could miss if you did not take time to see. The tracks and the plants that fell to the frost's wrath. Rather beautiful. You can see where the ground weaves and wavers. Where bushes lay but its always different shades of white. Like a blank canvas. Here in the Highlands probably the only other color in winter is red."

The snow had certainly become a lot thicker on the ground since Bryn had last ridden out this way, his own lands were almost unchanging as the pall of darkness, but this took him back to his lifetime once more. "This was one of the seasons where we didn't wage war, the snow made the riding difficult and snow blindness was certainly a risk." He remembered how some would wrap scarves around their heads, leaving only a slit for the eyes to see through, blocking out most of the light. "It's probably worse for us given how for the past few hours we've both been in darkness." Still he didn't find it too blinding, whether that was down to his nature as undead or deity was another question.

Chaotic was one way to describe the lives of the tribes in the Highlands, "It certainly was that, but there were also many rules and codes of honour. You didn't attack bystanders or those too young or old to fight." Women also often were not involved, although any who lifted a weapon became fair quarry. "Often inter-tribal conflicts could be settled by the two champions facing each other in a fight to the death. To the winner went the spoils." Bryn himself had been the winner of several such duels.

Calanthe's story about the stars, and nodded, "They're still called the sisters then, even now, although back in my day their father the sun went feasting into his halls. Instead of guarding, the sisters went out to greet their mother the lesser moon and their grandmother the greater."

The description of the Highlands as a painting brought a nod from Bryn, although he was only recently getting used to modern artistic style, his own time focused more on artworks involving stylised depictions of animals and intricate knot-work illustrations. "White and red," He agreed, "With black for the dead branches. Red for berries and the hunt." He seemed a little distant, as if the thought of the hunt stirred something within him, both of the past, and of what he was now.

"Rosenites don't know snow. We know the hot desert and the blood that soaks the sands of Arri. Many stories have been passed down about what happens out in the desert when no one is looking." She peeked back up at Bryn. "We don't forget who has wronged us. We merely wait until the time is right. Once the king of Adeluna attacked us. We sat in our desert and we waited. We waited until we were called on and then we attacked and paid him back ten fold. That is what we do. We wait and be bind our time, sometimes our anger gets the best of us."

Calanthe laughed a bit and shook her head. "No the moons are the sisters." She took his hands in hers and pointed at them. "The large one is Canelux and the small one is Parvpora. Parvpora is the mother to the World Tree. Well the first World Tree. The World Tree that brought you to Godhood would be her grandchild. These are the stories passed down in Adeluna though it may have been different in your time."

She held his hands in hers as lost herself looking out into the white fields. "Aye." She looked up at Bryn and gave a squeeze to his hand. "You look distant, what is on your mind? I'm afraid I am no deity so I don't have the ability to just know." She chuckled a bit as she let his hands go. "It is something else out here, to see the rolling hills and the vacant field. Almost untouched by man. Though there probably has been much bloodshed you can't tell right now."

She pulled her cloak a bit closer to her. "I've heard stories of women fighting over men who were worthy of bearing their children. Rosenites are mostly women back home. We don't share and we fight for what's ours. Men are often like trophies but few stay very long because of the way Arri is. We are the farmers, the warriors, and whatever else just happens to be going on. It is a very special place close to my heart but sometimes I like to look from the outside world in."

Bryn just shook his head a little, "I've never seen that much sand, the most I've seen is the sand on the beaches when I left this continent for the other." As for what happened in the desert when no one was looking, that was a simple enough answer, death. It wasn't like that was something that could be hidden from Bryn. "My own people had long memories, but seldom held grudges after the originators had passed. There seemed little point when the land itself was as much an enemy. A blood feud is solely between the individuals involved, dragging an entire tribe into it is foolish at best." That wasn't to say it hadn't happened before, but it was rare to say the least. The only time the entire tribe would unite would be another tribe looking to displace them from their lands.

It seemed the legends had changed at least a little, "Back in my time, the evening stars were the sisters. Who saw both their father the sun and their mother and grandmother the moon. Guess time changes things, even if only a little." His version made sense to him as the sister were smaller than either parent. He nodded in answer to her saying things were different in his time. "I'm not even sure which world tree we had in my time, while we knew it existed the Highlands were insular, probably seemed almost feral to outsiders. But if they'd known the richness of culture and knew our laws they would have been welcomed." That was the trick, if you knew the laws of the land you could walk with relative safety.

He shook himself as Calanthe roused him from his distant state, "Just feeling the call of something, perhaps when the snows melt and life begins to come here again there will be hunt to remember." Although the quarry might be something far less normal than usual. He gave her hands a squeeze before letting them go. "Bloodshed was relatively common, although at least during the raiding season deaths were rare. It was the mark of a warrior to bear scars, it was only when those from outside the Highlands tried to take land that true war and death came here." It was one such war that had led to Bryn's own demise.

"Women certainly fought, occasionally over men, but most often to defend their homes from raiders. Anyone who could lift a blade could be a warrior if they chose, whether they were any good was the question." The idea of men being trophies was an odd one. The Highland culture had few places for trophies beyond physical items. "In some ways I've had to do the same thing, to leave this place to understand the world and its place in it. Now I have the entire realm, and the one beyond, but still here I am, at the beginning of it all again." He looked to Calanthe, "Perhaps we'll visit Arri together some time." 

Calanthe's eyes looked into his for the answers that she sought. His words puzzled her but she was not use to such things as a hunt. Her cheeks flushed as he squeezed her hands. They were cold but with hers they made a warmth. "We like scars but I am afraid I have none. My life as a bard leaves me out of most fights I am afraid." She chuckled softly. "I don't see myself as a warrior."

A smile crossed her face as she thought about showing him Arri. "You might like it. I could show you everything that makes Sularia wonderful. I can show you the halls which I grew up in. Mother not only raised up in the temple but at the manor in Sularia. We were given our culture there and sometimes our lessons. We roamed beautiful gardens that would make every other garden but mother's pale in comparison." 

She reached forward and pet the horse once more. "I would show you the maze and then the lake itself. Perhaps I would teach you how to dance in the bazaar." She chuckled thinking about the god dancing with her in the crowded streets. Even in her mind he looked so out of place. "I would write a beautiful song just about how you see Arri. Just like how I will write a song about what you've showed me today."

She tilted her head and laid her lips to his cheek. "That is the Arriese way to bring light to things. To dance and play. To remember that not everything in life is about bloodshed. Even in a world so barren in the snow we can find the beauty throughout the lands. The way the skies melt into the landscapes of white. Just like the basalt that makes up your realm flows like black silk in my eyes. Etched with blue and green lights that most people would run from. It is all beautiful."

Bryn shrugged with regards to Calanthe saying she didn't have any scars, "Bards were probably the only people who never earned a warrior's scars, they didn't need to. A bard could stop a conflict with a good verse." He chuckled, "Another word for bard was Skald, they were revered almost as much as our druids as a good verse could make a man a hero for generations, a cruel one, particularly if it was humorous could ruins a man reputation for as long." He patted her shoulder gently, "A warrior only destroys, a bard creates. Eitherway, I have enough scars for both of us." Although his face was unblemished he had his fair share on his body.

Her description of Sularia made him smile, "I'm sure I will enjoy seeing those gardens." Then she mentioned about dancing, "If my identity ever got our there'd be panic, Death dancing in the streets…. People would think some disaster was looming." Although he supposed if he left his shroud off for a while he would be less recognisable, although his pallor would probably mark him out as an oddity.

The kiss shocked him, but after a split second he relaxed and kissed her cheek in return, his own lips cold compared to Calanthe's. He smiled an replied, "The Hernystiri too believed in life and light, in the depths of winter we would raise up bonfires, and celebrate the longest night, raising voices to the sky welcoming the return of the light and lengthening days." It was said that those who saw out the longest night would live to see the spring. With another smile he said, "You see my realm, one many fear, and turn it into poetry. I think I will enjoy your living here greatly."