Brye	taps his foot on the ground. He stares up at the sky. "Me god still wants t' have a word," he says. "Ye got th' time for that now?"
	Scorch	tosses rocks in the lake, he's feeling pretty down
	Mekarie	A word.  Her expression closes down, distrustful and wary.  She regards the shiny boy for a long moment, then finally the smallest nod is noticeable from the small woman's head.  "I have-I have time."
	Brye	"Good. Right. Well, this is gonna be bleedin' awful for me, but ye should be fine." Brye stands and walks around the side of the inn, out of sight of most passersby. He sits on the log-chopping stump, and places his palm on the side of his head. "Took a while for it t' show me how it's done," he says, and, and a blue spark flickers into place on his arm. The ozone smell that precedes a storm...
	Brye	...wells up around him. The spark crawls up his arm until it's flickering back and forth over his fingers. "Lot o' dreams. See, it don't got much of a mind. So it's got to-" he flexes his fingers, and the lightning in his hand crackles through his head, setting his hair on end, "-borrow."
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	Mekarie	She follows behind slowly, carefully, and at a distance.  The ruffling scent of ozone, the smell of an oncoming storm makes her pause, like a deer scenting a hunter instead.  Her shoulders twitch, the spot between her shoulder blades almost burning with the sensation that is brought on by paranoia.  Dreams.  He talks of dreams.  The dots...they would slowly start to connect, but not
	Mekarie	just yet.  Not yet.
	Brye	There's a small flash of blue light and a sound like a hundred static charges cracking at once. Above his head, the infantile form of the god appears, shown in a wavering pulse of lightning. Its hands rest atop Brye's head. Brye's expression goes slack. After a moment, he speaks. His voice is clumsy and slow. Underlying it is a second voice, high, weak, and childlike. "Why do you fear me?"...
	Brye	...it asks. "Am I meant to be feared? He does not know. So I do not know."
	Mekarie	A suck in of air between her teeth, steeling herself and drawing herself upright to her full, albeit short, height.  She would try to make herself look taller, larger than she really is, a tactic that wild animals oftentimes used when they felt threatened.  "Because you are not-you are not a god," she says bluntly; Mekarie was not one who danced around words for all of how many of
	Mekarie	them she knew.  "You are 0x1dovaettr,0x1d and I do not-I do not fear the atropal."
	Brye	The infant's faceless head tilts forward, sending sparks over Brye's hair. "We do not understand," they say, voices intertwining. "I am a god. Am I meant to be feared? You see things-" the childlike voice pulls above Brye's, repeating, "SEE things." Their voices rejoin. "Am I meant to be feared? We do not know. If I am meant to be feared, he will not be happy with me."
	Mekarie	The urge to stand on something, to become eye level, was strong in her, but she fights it down, keeping her hands at her sides without so much as a curl of finger or drum on her leggings.  Her breath inhales deeply, holds, and comes out slowly.  "You are no god," she says in a low voice, keeping her eyes trained on the entity before her.  "Gods do not spring into existence in a
	Mekarie	farmer boy's mind as a whimsy."  Her head inclines, jerking her chin toward the boy in question.  "You are not feared by me.  I 0x1dsee.0x1d  You are 0x1dovaettr,"0x1d she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue before she inhales deeply again, slowly, fingers curving inward, nails digging into the fleshy palms of her hands.
	Brye	The being flickers for a moment. "There is a message for you," it says. "I do not understand it, because I cannot tell him of it. Do not tell him of it." It sinks further into Brye's head, and blue electricity glows in the boy's veins. His jaw flaps loose for a moment, then tightens as he starts to speak in someone else's voice. A third voice, older than both the man and the god, rough,...
	Brye	...tired. "If you hear this," he says, "my child trusts you. Or something like it. I didn't have much time. So this is the best I can do." Brye takes a deep breath. He mimes holding a pipe to his mouth, and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "There's a goddess down near the Aja islands, feared by sailors, worshiped by few. The widower, they call her. The black sea gale. I have been a wanderer,...
	Brye	...sea and land, my whole life. She ended that. I trapped us here, on a small island where noone ever goes." Brye breathes in another imaginary cloud of smoke. "Of the crew, only I survived. It's been years now, I don't know how many, of us both denied our purpose. I will not say we fell in love. But we were alone, and over time, that became close enough. So." Brye looks up towards the sky....
	Brye	...The infant god does as well. "Between the two of us," he says, "we birthed a storm."
	Scorch	jumps in the lake and shifts to dragon form under the water, he is itchy and the water is soothing
	Mekarie	The expression does not change, but stays blank, utterly and perfectly blank, blinking only when she needs to wet her eyes.  "Not a god."  She is very, very sure of this, and her arms raise to fold over her chest, eyes intent, focused.  Lucid.  Another deep, prolonged breath and she continues.  "Birthing a storm does not a god make."  Again, very sure of this.  She sniffs
	Mekarie	softly, a wrinkle of her nose, and continues.  "Putting trust into a stranger is a dangerous endeavor, godling or no."  Mekarie's head inclines back so that she is looking through lowered eyelids, face partially veiled in the wild hair about her face.  Impressed?  Wary?  It is hard to say; she has closed herself down--Guardian without a Guard.  A hand comes up to swipe beneath her
	Mekarie	nose quickly, a casual brush before she continues.  "Then take him home," she adds bluntly.  "The Myrken is dark and full of twisted things."  It...has occured to her that god or no, it is a child.  0x1dWhat kind of Guardian are you if you cannot protect more than one child?0x1d  Damn.
	Brye	"I could not hold it here, trapped with us. So, as soon as I have finished talking, I'll loose my hold on this island and send it away. An old traveling companion of mine told me of her grandson in a letter. A kind but empty lad. Missing something, unable to find it, not knowing to even search. Like I in my youth." Brye looks back down, focusing on nothing. "If all goes well, my Gale won't...
	Brye	...realize until the child is long gone. She... she will understand, in the end. I would tell her of my plan if not for the fact that she would use it to escape. Many would die if she did. That is what she is. But our child..." Brye reaches down to pat the air in front of him. "It can be more. I've told it how to grow strong. It will lead the Brishen boy along that path. It's up to him to...
	Brye	...show it how to be good. And, if it trusts you..." Brye reaches down with both hands. He mimes picking up a bundle. "Then it's up to you, too." He kisses the air in front of him, then throws the nonexistant bundle skyward. The little god behind Brye flickers, then pulls back slightly from his head. "That is all," they say, voices returned to... well, not normal. But the earlier sort of...
	Brye	...not-normal.
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	Mekarie	"Not a god."  She is very adamant about that, as if she knows the difference, can sense it.  See it.  Who knew, maybe she could?  Her hand swipes beneath her nose again, a crimson streak on the pale skin is quickly hidden as she folds her arms again, still staring with the most utterly blank look the madwoman can pull off.  Mekarie is...frustratingly confused.  There were those of the
	Mekarie	Myrken who wished her put down, and not quickly.  That number was actually larger than the number of individuals who trusted her, for all that she is transparent and trustworthy herself; the madwoman is almost incapable of lying, the creativity behind a lie too complex for her mind to keep track of.  And now here is this.  The 0x1dovaettr0x1d who wants to trust her.  It immediately puts her
	Mekarie	on edge.  Paranoid.  Her nose wrinkles as she sniffs again; the effort to keep focused is a huge strain, but she keeps the effort alive as she stares at the boy.  "Just another child to Guard?"  The question is passive, but there is almost a weariness to her tone.  She wants to go 0x1dhome.0x1d (RP)
	Brye	"We can be dangerous. He does not want to be dangerous. We can be dangerous," they say. "I am a god. He is not. We are not a god. I am a god," they say. "We want to understand you. He senses that you are in need. I do not understand. He does. He does not know." The god pulls back, and the electricity around Brye's head begins to fade away. "Find us when you need us," they say in parting.
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	Mekarie	In need?  Mekarie?  There is the faintest, slightest shake of her head.  She needs and wants for nothing that will not come in time.  The courier would come soon--that is all she needs.  The heel of her palm comes up to press hard on her brow, to dull the sense of pressure that said she needed to heed the warnings of her slight frame.  "I need nothing from the 0x1dovaettr,"0x1d was her
	Mekarie	weary response to it all.  "Stay out of the Golden."  This has been a previous demand of hers, that it stays out of the Golden City for reasons she has not and will not...or cannot...put into words.  Eyes shut tight for a moment, and when they open they are losing focus, losing the lucid light.  It is beginning to 0x1dhurt0x1d to keep it.  "I need to-need to sleep," she says absently
	Mekarie	.  "No one-no one wants nightmares."
	Brye	"Ow," says Brye as he pulls his hand away from his head. "S'like jammin' me head full o' crickets. Er. Hold on. Arrangin' me thoughts." He shakes his head a bit. His hair starts to settle back down. "It says that you will," says Brye. "Er. Need us. Just 'cause we offered, if nothin' else." He stands from the stump. "An' I need a drink. G'night."
	Mekarie	There is a vague look of incredulity, but the madwoman simply turns away and walks, barefoot, toward the Woods to disappear into the darkness.  She had a walk ahead of her before she got to wherever she called home, and there would be a quick check upon the horses before sleep could claim her.  What a night.