Michael does his best to keep his distance from the religious practices of Solvunn. He's never cared for pagan gods. Back home, that had been because he thought them arrogant creatures, weaker than archangels yet daring to compare themselves to the one true God and creator of their universe; now, it's that and the bitter knowledge that even his own Father never cared much for him. What connection could he hope to forge with gods that have no relation to him? There's no joy to be found in worship here.
It's a fact of life that the commune is religious, however, and there's no getting around that. He can get away with not making offerings, but the shrines remain. There are still rituals taking place on the daily and locals beseeching the gods for aid in their time of need. The only appeals to aid that matter to Michael are those his friends direct at him, which is what brings him to the middle of the forest, Claire on one side and an axe held in his hand on the opposite side.
Funerary rites matter to Claire. As long as she handles the ritual portion, he's willing to bring down a tree for her.
"Is it a specific tree we're looking for, or any with the right markings?" he asks, turning from his examination of the forest to look at Claire.
He left her with the the job of getting the details from the locals. He knows they're looking for a sacred tree, but not if it need be a particular sacred tree or even what makes the trees sacred to them in the first place. Maybe the place they grow, the species of tree, or the shape it's assumed over the years. Perhaps it's a combination of all those factors—or something else entirely.
Closed - Claire
It's a fact of life that the commune is religious, however, and there's no getting around that. He can get away with not making offerings, but the shrines remain. There are still rituals taking place on the daily and locals beseeching the gods for aid in their time of need. The only appeals to aid that matter to Michael are those his friends direct at him, which is what brings him to the middle of the forest, Claire on one side and an axe held in his hand on the opposite side.
Funerary rites matter to Claire. As long as she handles the ritual portion, he's willing to bring down a tree for her.
"Is it a specific tree we're looking for, or any with the right markings?" he asks, turning from his examination of the forest to look at Claire.
He left her with the the job of getting the details from the locals. He knows they're looking for a sacred tree, but not if it need be a particular sacred tree or even what makes the trees sacred to them in the first place. Maybe the place they grow, the species of tree, or the shape it's assumed over the years. Perhaps it's a combination of all those factors—or something else entirely.