Darren tilts his head, chuckling as the messenger turns tail and runs off at the first hint of freedom. It turns his grin wide, as he looks back to Donella with amused eyes. "Harassing poor messengers now, are we?" he clicks his tongue, shaking his head a bit. Darren and Donella stand near the entrance to the grove, talking to one another about something or another. "And no, I don't suppose you've ever sent me a messenger that was particularly /not/ strange, you're right," he smirks.

The Duchess of Nightgold arrives with a small entourage, her newly acquired baby brother and the Reaver Prince of Thrax flanking her sides. Rose-blonde curls have been uplifted into an intricate array of braids, the rest left to spiral how they please down her back. Her garb is comfortable, little more than black leather armors as her return to the city is naught but a brief one for this very occasion. "Your Highness," she calls in sweet welcoming to Darren, but it is Donella that steals the show. "Princess Donella! I'm glad you came. I was just about to send a slew of messengers to bait you here, Your Highness. Have you come to watch?"

The event is meant to be a casual one as always, no pomp and circumstance ever truly in the mannerisms of Freja. Snacks have been laid out along with -plenty- of ales and whiskey to the side. Numerous torches and candles burn between the enclosure and the benches, a few dotting the altar to give the already otherworldly grove a more mystic air. Even small motes of light of fireflies blinking between the towering stones adds its own magic.

The woman heading the little gathering enters softly and on her own, appearing at the altar and sitting casually on the edge so that her legs swing back and forth slowly. Freja beams a smile at them all and waits for them to all get settled.

"Harassment is a strong word. Possibly the right one. I suppose it is yours to say-- your ward." She makes him a courtesy. "I promise I will explain when there are fewer demands on your attention." She whirls about awn says, "Ah! My lady, how could I not? Unless you have set bear traps for me, also. My curiosity is raised, and how better to learn...?" She looks around for the sitting arrangements, one hand straying out to caress the path of a winking storm-bug's ghostly light.


Darren merely smirks at Donella, a few light chuckles escaping him. He was perhaps about to say something in return, but his words were stilled by Nadia's approach. He turns to look at her, his lips pursing into a thin line as he inclines his head in a polite manner. "Duchess Nadia," he says in greeting, then offers a nod to Abbas as well. "Prince Abbas. A pleasure to see you once more. I'm afraid I should take my place though," he comments, looking back to Donella and offering her a grin, as well as his arm. "Want to sit with me, Princess? I'll be up near the front, in case the bear decides to lunge," he glances aside to said bear, who has lumbered up to the altar to sit by Freja's side. "I promise I'll keep him from lunging at you, though."

Like any good servant of House Redrain, Morrighan had been loitering around Stone Grove a short time before numerous individuals began pouring in - but most importantly, her duties as a servant leave her guarding the liquor. Of course, her version of 'protection' is sitting next to the assortment, drinking what's available. Some of which has been poured into a gold flask, an so she lounges off on one of the provided benches, sucking down the spirits like she thought it was water. Her eyes idly flit from face to face, recognizing but a few, but for the most part the redhead keeps apart from the crowd, keeping to herself and her observations.

Thraxian Prince Abbas Thrax accompanies Duchess Nadia and her brother Lord Cassius to the ancient Stone Grove. The Reaver had seen many villages and shamanistic practices as a longship captain and the environment is not one that surprises him. It would be odd for the Prince to be here though; except that it seems he has a keen interest in this particular ceremony. He takes a moment to observe the strange flora he has never seen before.

There is a curious tilt to Abbas head as the well-traveled and salted Thraxian had ventured far and never seen such things before. He offers a comment to Nadia, "I would like to hear a few stories about the northern wall and the old god if you happen to know of any from your people I might not?" The sea travelled barbarian maneuvers with her to find a seat after talking to Darren and Donella, "A pleasure to see you." He then nods to Donella, "Princess." A bare smile emerges from the corner of his lips when he sees her.

As they move to get settled, refreshments grabbed along with seats, Freja allows her voice to carry over the din of murmurs as things begin. "Now, this has come about because I was approached by many after my last ritual, not with concerns but rather inquiries. Our ways are older than the compact, engrained on the souls of those up North who care to listen to it. Shamanism is a ...well, the best word is different."

She glances down at the bear as it approaches and pushes off of her seat on the altar and bends a knee, cooing and at the bear and rubbing her nose against its, scritching behind his ears. The bear licks her nose in response and she rises again, keeping a hand on the bear's head to continue fondly petting him. "I wish to set apart the differences, so none will think us savage and unrefined as the numerous and impotent faiths of the Shav's. Comparisons have been drawn, idiotically so."

"What gently born woman could resist such an offer? Keeping large hairy things from lunging at me is the order of the day..." Donella responds, quietly eyeing the bear, which is like the plumpest, fattest dog she has ever seen. She takes the offered arm, and acknowledges her cousin, Abbas, with a deep inclination of her head. Time to get settled and seated.

Donella has joined the benches.

Darren has joined the benches.

Nadia has joined the benches.

Abbas has joined the benches.

Has the Dominus of the Faith decided to send one of his true believers to 'observe' the goings-on of this night? What is certain is that a Mercy of Lagoma has seen fit to be here, even if she's a little late to the party, having gotten sidetracked by the stone-laded splendor of the park. It is only when Freja speaks that Sophie is drawn out of her reverie and reminded of just why she is present -- and it has nothing to do with the eye-catching flora not native outside the Northlands. Murmuring apologies, she endeavors to find a seat as close to the front as is available, and she settles in with no fanfare, her attention now fully upon the shaman.

Nadia presses a graceful smile upon her lips. "Your Grace," she responds with effortless zest, presuming her teasing words to Donella to have be lost in the crowd, so she turns in favor of procuring prime real estate for herself and the Thraxian reaver turned event companion. The massive bear receives a cursory look, faintly amused, before turning her attention to Freja as the royal shaman begins her opening words. She is quiet, expressive features faintly contemplative while she takes stock of the varied company.


Darren chuckles low and deep at Donella's comment, replying to her in a far quieter murmur that keeps the conversation just between the two of them as he leads her over to the benches up front. He helps her to the seat before he sits beside the Thraxian princess, his eyes traveling up to the altar where his cousin is. "Cousin," he clears his throat, to help bring his voice up to a level where he could be heard. "Perhaps you could start by explaining the fundamental difference between Shamanism, the old gods, and the beliefs that most of the City commonly holds?" he quirks a brow at her. "I doubt there are many gathered here who know that Shamans do not acknowledge any deities," he shrugs.

Sophie has joined the benches.

"First and foremost, a question that was asked much to my chagrin, was about blood. No, there are no killings and blood is not the sacrifice we so readily seek out. Anyone that thinks blood as the conduit in which the Spirits are sought is a fucking idiot. No runes are written in blood, no one is killed. I am not a Shav." Freja says oh so poetically, in her own way.

"The trouble most seem to be having in understanding is that there is no definable deity, there is no god or gods we bend a knee to. There are no specific 'fire spirits', 'water spirits', or anything of the like. They simply are, and can be personified as sentient or simply the spirit of a battlefield birthed by the memories of the place, or a place older than the snows themselves. They are all around and not entirely tied to being defined."

Donella says, "So you do not worship the spirits of departed ancestors, either? You keep no shrines, nor any ... what would one call it... a representation of that thing, for it to take residence in, when invoked? Do you even invoke them?"

Nadia nestles herself comfortably upon the bench, shoulders rolled back as her slender frame is cast in a casual drape with greaved arms braced across the tops of her knees. Her lips part as though to breathe an answer to Donella's question, but she merely tilts her head forward into the brace of palms cradling her chin, green eyes beholden to Freja in curiosity of how she'll handle the princess' question.


Darren nods his head to Freja's answer, a quick glance thrown about the Stone's Grove to see who has gathered. Then, it comes back to Donella, as she speaks her question. His brow goes up, but he says nothing at all, instead refocusing upon Freja to see how she replies.

Freja had caught Darren's question at the end of her beginning, answering after a lull. "By lore and traditionally believed, the Spirits inhabit their own space perpendicular to ours. It is of this world, but not of it. They are part of nature, but do not drive it. They are not behind every changing of season, every blizzard, every rain...but they can nudge it in a certain direction if they so wish." The next question is given pause and the Shaman smiles, a rarity in itself that brightens her fair features considerably.

"No, we are not ones to take part in ancestor worship. If an ancestor becomes a Spirit? We will not ignore the possibility, but I will not be praying to my father by name, simply put." She raises a hand to indicate the altar and the grove they stand in. "This can be seen as a shrine, where offerings are made and guidance asked for. I...would not ask a Spirit to take residence in anything. It is disrespectful. If they choose to embody something and make themselves visible to us, it is of their own whims. It is more common to see their works rather than the Spirits themselves." A pensive pause. "Invoke? Well.. that could be a word used for it, but each approach made to them is always a transaction. You can't get something for nothing. A sacrifice has to be made, whether it be some of your time doing what they ask, something dear to you, or whatever. The sacrifice is always based upon the gravity of the guidance and help being asked."

Freja may have caught Darren's question, but Sophie did not catch his look, for the Mercy's focus is fully upon the Shaman, keenly interested.

Donella glances about her at the others for their reaction to her question, and the answer that Freja gives. She lifts her hand slightly, and questions further, "Forgive me, I mean invoke in the way I would in my own places of worship mean, to call on. Can you give an example of how your interact with your faith on a given day?"

Nadia chooses the speak up then, following the tails of the princess' words to gently nudge the flow of conversation on, "It's interesting, that parallels can be drawn between our faith and that of which is related to beliefs about the Dark Reflection, and that of the Shining Lands written in the Faith. With customs as old as ours, pre-dating most periods, it's an interesting thought to think that some facets of the Gods of the pantheon might have been derived from it. What are your thoughts on those parallels?"


Darren tosses a glance over his shoulder as Nadia speaks up, his brow arching curiously at her question. He holds the look for a moment before shaking his head a bit and refocusing on Freja, though he does lean in to murmur something to Donella as well.

Oh, now they were getting down to brass tacks. Enough so that Sophie shifts to see who asked the question about parallels, her curiosity piqued. Nadia's face and form are registered, and then Darren is finally noticed, an amiable smile gently curling the Mercy's mouth, lingering only a polite amount before her summer sky eyes are back to Freja, awaiting the shaman's answer.

Donella had asked first, so it is her inquiry that Freja sees to next. "I pay my respects to them daily, a prayer here and there as is deemed fit. I only ever ask of their guidance when it is sorely needed. I will not pester them with a trifle of where I misplaced my last drinking horn." A pause. "Still looking for that..." She snaps back to attention. "It is more of an understanding, really. An understanding that they are there, we are here, and that they are benevolent towards us in both little ways and grand ways we can never dream of comprehending. So, in short, on a daily basis I sink to my knees and offer them a prayer of respectful gratitude. I only ever come to a ritual when I need their wisdom and a price must be paid."

Nadia's question gets a slight quirk of her brow and her sharp eyes shift to the Duchess. "We came before, and I have heard it said that mimicry is the finest form of flattery. I do believe parallels may have been drawn, but that does not mean the definition is the same. Inspiration for does not constitute exact replication. I will not deny that there are similarities, but I do not think the belief has been implemented the same."

Abbas sits and does not seems the sort to intervene or speak up. The Thraxian broods over the commentary. He is attentive enough - listening fully. He makes observations of the people and he mulls over the descriptions offered up by Freja.

"Replication? No," Nadia surmises in response to Freja's expressed sentiments on the idea, her role is a clear one - to give voice to the casual outsider's perspective, and provoke their thoughts to bridge a gap between two worlds so very different. "We are, after all, an amalgam of northern beliefs, rather than a central ideology. No two shamans will hold the same interpretations or set of beliefs, so that leaves room for a wide range of variation throughout our lands. And in the times of the old, when ours was a culture more widespread long before the Compact, perhaps facets of the old culture as it were then were adopted and shaped into the Pantheon we know today?'

She continues with a small smile given to the crowd, continuing on with her lesson in the lack of further questions for now. "As Shamans, we are in a position to act as the mediator between our world and them, direct correspondance at least. That does not mean you have to be a Shaman to offer your prayers to them..only that the Shamans are seen as the leaders of the faith and conduct the rituals. Now, there are times of observance and days that are more holy than others. We observe a changing of seasons, or when their direct involvement is seen in events, we will hold a celebration in their honor to both thank and please them." And then Nadia speaks, "Ah..that is where you are wrong. The faith is rather cut and dry. We may interpret their messages differently depending on what each one sees, but on the foundations of Shamanism? There is no debate. Beliefs are the same, interpretations of wisdom gifted not so much. A message can be taken many different ways, this is true." She nods, "And yes, I suppose a mind could humor the possibility that maybe the Pantheon was influenced by some of our own archaic culture. I will not disrespect them though and claim that to be the way of things. I am not of their faith and will not slander it by claiming a history I do not know to be truth, only speculation."

Donella listens attentively, tilting her head just so. Her response to Darren's words to her are quiet. She seems to indicate Freja and Nadia. "Well, I suppose anyone who comes looking for simplicity in faith is both to be disappointed," she says more openly. "Is the Northerner worshiping much as they would have a thousand years past? Is there evidence that what you do now is different than say, 100 years ago?"

Freja moves on to answer Donella then, a smile given to the woman and her steadfast questions. "All mannerisms evolve, and while I would like to think we are constant, there is no denying that what was done a thousand years ago would differ very much from what we see today. In that span of time we have learned more about them, and them about us. Relationships do evolve along with the knowledge gained of each party involved. A hundred years ago? Probably not much difference, as that was only a few generations ago in truth. The only difference I see now is our numbers are far less. With exposure to other ways of faith, minds and hearts were converted but it will never truly be gone from the North."

Nadia shifts within her seat, her head risen from its place cradled within her hands to offer a quiet word to Abbas. She does, however, keep abreast of the flow of conversation and information deciminated from the hosting shamaness.

Much as her attention had been drawn to Nadia, the continuous stream of thoughtful questions also draws Sophie's attention, with briefly alights on Donella. Attention shifts back to Freja, the Valardin's expression a pensive one. If she is offended on behalf of the Pantheon of the Faith, there is nothing in her demeanor that suggests such. After a moment of consideration, she politely inquires, "What may you tell us about shamanic Second Sight, Your Highness?"

* whose gaze briefly alights...


    It's Sophie's question that draws Darren out of his quiet conversation with Donella and pensive contemplation over what Freja has been explaining. He looks over his shoulder at the Mercy with pursed lips, though his expression is completely neutral, almost bland. There's a tick or two of a stare, before he looks back to Freja, a brow arched to see what it is she has to say.

And the Voice of Thrax, for her part is now positively rapt now. She almost leans toward the bear, just so that her view between the two speakers is less obstructed.

Freja's dark eyes shift slowly to Sophie and she asks, "What is this of 'Shamanic Second Sight'? That sounds like a Southern term. Would you mind clarifying what you mean, where you heard it from? It is not a term in my repertoire." She allows herself to sink to her knees again, the bear she had been standing next to insisting on another lick to her face - he had been impatiently nudging his nose against her knee for quite some time. "Ah, what I think you are aiming at is an innate ability to speak to the Spirits in the capacity as a Shaman, to become a Shaman in the first place and be able to conduct the rituals. For explantion to Southern ears, I think it is more of a practice and an awareness, really, not some fairy tale trick. Would you accuse your priests of having something foul for communion with their gods? If you are to draw parallels, that is one that can be made."

"To bring this full circle, darlings, I will try and keep this closing point short. We are not naked savages conducting mass orgies in stone groves. We do not come after children, stalking babes in the night, to sacrifice their blood upon our altars. Anything sacrificed is freely given, and it is always a transaction. Shamanism is a faith based around communion with and respect of the Spirits and the roles they play in our lives and the nature of the world that surrounds us." Freja stands to her full height again, towering over most of the women here. "Last chance for questions? I apologize if I was blunt, but after a few private audiences I felt some distinctions had to be made."

Nadia looks up from her conversation with Abbas, features briefly grim. She exhales a breath, her gaze swept up to Freja as she brings the seminar to a close. Her lips spread into a gracious smile, posing up in gentle commentary rather than a last minute question, "Thank you, Your Highness, for arranging such an insightful gathering. I'll be sure to pass along your answers to those who posed private inquery that I asked of you tonight." She rises, leathers creaking with a muted clank of blades weighing heavy at her belt-draped hips.

Freja offers up, "Or tell them they can approach me themselves. I am always open to conversation and audiences on this matter. It is, after all, my role as a shaman."

Donella puts her hand down, as they answer her next impertinent question, cleverly, before she even asks is. "I do have one more, but I will hold it for another time, because I want the excuse to converse with you more. This really has been enlightening."

Nadia bows her head amenably to Freja. "I'll do so gladly," she promises with a tinkling laugh. A glance is cast over the small gathering, eyes lingering on the front rows briefly before turning on heel to offer a quiet word to Abbas once more.


Darren inclines his head to Freja, offering her a broad grin. "This was very enlightening, cousin," he says to her in a cheerful, encouraging sort of way. Then, he'll murmur something to Donella, smirking at the Thraxian princess.

Pensively, Sophie listens, her brow gently furrowing at what is asked and at what is relayed, seemingly oblivious to anyone's regard other than Freja's. For a moment, it seems as though she may speak, lips parting ever so faintly, but then the shaman has changed the subject. If the Mercy has further questions, she keeps them to herself, although the set of her eyes and her mouth suggests that she probably is not satisfied with the explanation given. Instead, she merely inclines her head and politely intones, "Thank you for the generosity of your time and knowledge, Your Highness."

A rare sight, the Princess actually curtsies in her full Shaman regalia. Freja intones with a radiant curl of her lips, "Thank you all for coming and the grace of your attention and presence. I want you -all- to feel more than welcome to reach out to me. I will make time for you, simply send word." She steps down and away from the altar, Darren's bear at her heels as she moves to stand beside her cousin.