Svea had never been a good performer under watchful eyes, and as Thyri looked her over, the Icelandic girl shrunk, thinking about her last time trying to impress those of importance around her. She needed to look like a viable option for this woman and the doctor if she wanted to have something to do around Shaman. She needed to have some occupation to keep her mind from traveling back home without her. She stepped back to allow the visitors who might soon be residents to enter the humble cottage, and watched as the woman that Dr. Gupta had brought made herself at home.
As Svea took the remaining seat once both of her guests had taken theirs, Nana hopped into her lap. Both girl and dog looked between the older man and woman, uncertain what they were nervous about. And yet the nerves continued to build. Despite knowing what the woman would find on her hand, and fairly sure she would be pleased with it, Svea found her mind racing with the idea that she wasn’t very good at who she was and what her scar marked her as, even as it was inspected by Thyri. Her free hand tangled into the white fur of her familiar and gripped it, knuckles turning as pale as the coat.
As the accusatory question came, Svea froze. What counted as devout? Of course she’d prayed everyday and been at every service on the island. She still prayed everyday though she’d been unable to find a goši holding services on Shaman. Did that mean she was no longer devout in her faith? Surely this woman who was from shaman would know there was nowhere to practice, or perhaps would be able to point Svea in the right direction. Or maybe it was better to leave well enough alone. It was a miracle that no magical mishaps had occurred since arriving in this world. The girl didn’t’ want to risk further angering Rhaegar by ruining services here as well.
However, as the question was clarified, Svea exhaled sharply and nodded enthusiastically. “Y-yes I want to serve him. More than anything I want him to be pleased with me.”
She looked between the two of them, her grip never faltering from Nana’s back fur, despite the twisting the pup was using to struggle against being held. However, the fist released and Svea’s eyes widened when the woman said something that Svea had thought impossible. If the god were here all along, that would mean that she really couldn’t mess up here. And, perhaps it meant that she was forgiven for her transgression at the initiation ceremony if he had not yet visited her with his battle axe.
And then the woman continued, and the shock turned to confusion. How was it possible that this was Rhaegar’s paramour. That wasn’t in the traditions or the epics that had ever been spoken or written. No one had ever suggested that the god had or would take a lover? Of course, like many of the norse tales, he’d had admirers, and perhaps this woman was one, if in fact, her claim that he was here were true, but to have a woman as his romantic companion seemed very against what Svea thought she knew of him.
However, as she stared at the woman, perplexed, Nana bit her fairy’s thumb.
“Uff! Nana!” Svea yelped, but the dog continued to nibble at the base of the finger before turning her nose toward the woman. On earth, Nana had been able to use words and images to talk to Svea, but almost as soon as they’d crossed into Shaman, that bond had been severed, and other means had needed to be developed. Sure, she could speak but, with so many strangers in the room, that was hardly an option. Slow as molasses, Svea caught on that this was a (misguided) attempt at communicating, and glanced to the same thumb on the red-headed woman. She knew that ring. Every member of the cult knew that ring. Her eyes traveled from the ring, to the bump, to the woman’s face once again.
“Oh.”
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