#dreaming

The snow is a challenge though, it's up to her furking kneecaps, and it's cold.

Getting colder in fact...

She wraps her arms around herself, chafing her upper arms in a bid to keep warm.

"Of course she has to land in furkin' Narnia..."

At the word Narnia, the ground gets extra icy under her...

(Dex plus Athletics)

/roll 3

She slips and falls as snow turns to ice and she slides, at least she's sliding south, but she hears...cursing. It's GOOD Cursing too...

"Narnia is it? See winter and ye think o Narnia? FAH..." the ice itself seems to pop and crack with the words as she tumbles... "Tis too much for an old woman to bear, that wee bairns should forget me..."

She's heading towards a River, a very cold, fast moving river!

"And one of them of a Celtic HOUSE No less..." The ice slide Thistle is on gains speed ready to dunk her into what would likely be a freezing plunge. Maybe a death

"AHHHHHH!"

"Always winter but never SPRING!" She pushes back with her hands, to launch herself into the air with a Hopscotch!

"Ah ye might survive, wee lamb, but ye might not" the old voice says. In the reflections of the ice show an old hag..... then up up up Thistle goes into the air, and free of ice , for the moment, and she doesn't go into the river.

In fact, she seems to have leaped further than she would normally!

"Ooch, aren't you a clever girl." The cold wind itself now speaks with the hag's voice, "Well, succh is to be rewarded I suppose. But understand that bitch o narnia were naught be a pretender and maybe we'll get along more peacable. "

And she lands on ice free space, the snow thinning a bit

"Oh, sure, she wasn't a proper winter spirit. Just a jumped up witch."

"Right you are..." slight mollified and footsteps

She looks around. Citrine is hiding in the hood of the nocker's sweatshirt, chiming complaints as she shivers.

The old woman moves forward "Ye dinna even know who I am do you? "

"The Goddess of Winter?" She squints. "You ain't Brighid, but... are you related? Her day is in winter..."

"Caaileach, I am, and Goddess of Winter I be, a grand mother to the Irish and Scott alike... I see you've met the Finnish one. So you're seeking your friend who knows me not. Why shouldn't I hinder you?"

"Well, you gotta determine if it's worth the trouble to hinder me - or to help me, and have me survive and carry stories so your name is heard more."

THAT approach catches the hag off guard, "And how would you be spreading stories o me? You don't look much like a story teller, your kind's stories always seem to include phrases like 'Well, they told me naught to touch it, but furk them, so anyway, I started tinkering'... hardly great for spinning a yarn to non nockers"

"I'm no eshu, nah."

"And Rocky, she's the one that boasts."

"I tell stories with my hands, by making things."

"You would be told in white and silver and the grey-brown of a leafless oak."

"Ah, you're Brigid's creature aren't you?" A scoff "Bad enough she slams Imbolc in the heart of my winter...." But her grousing is intruded on as Thistle starts talking colors "Mayhaps a touch of the blue? It is a different blue from spring or summer you know?"

"Of furkin' course it is. More periwinkle, it's got this crisp shimmer..."

"Summer blues always lean teal, too much green in'm to use for winter."

The hag looks a bit less hag like, more like an old woman who has outlived so many she's a touch lonely "It does, glistens , winter blue does. Echo of the stars, is winter"

"Best skies, though. When the moon reflects off the snow, and the stars pierce the black above like diamonds?"

"That's a blue, the kind you see on deep winter nights that you can't catch with a camera. You gotta make it by heart."

"mmmff, now you're smooching an old goddess up" cautious, then "What's your craft that you'd be making my story in it?"

"Clay, usually."

"Like you said - I'm Brigid's creature. Fire and craft. She's one of the ones I've learned. Sorry nobody told me about you."

"Few do" A mmph "I'll tell you what, tell me more about this thing you'll make, agree to make it, and I'll help you a bit. Tell you about your friend and the trouble after her."

Sigh. "Gwen's just trying to fill in for Arty, I swear, since he's off getting housetrained. Okay, um, what I'm thinking right NOW is I wanna do a snowglobe, because they're dynamic."

Cailleach nods slowly

"And, like, the outside looks like a craggy, snow covered rock from one angle, until you turn it and realize it's actually an old woman, holding the globe in her hands."

"In the globe, there's a white owl, wings spread as if it's launching up to fly."

"And of course, if you shake it, snow kicks up in the globe."

"Fiercely?" A pause "At least at first?"

"Like a blizzard, yeah!"

"Come in strong, makes them appreciate the calm after it does" She says "Guess your kind would say 'tis the squeeky wheel what gets the grease'"

"Yeah, but probably with more expletives."