#elsewhere

Gwen moves towards the two nuennhi "Tell me what?"

"...Hunh."

Takota's eyes narrow as he feels the pressure of Mato's grip. Without a word, he focuses, shifting his form. His body stretches, muscles bulging as he tries to break free, but Mato’s hold remains iron-tight, unyielding. Takota’s face twists in frustration. He tries again, shrinking this time—his body shrinking down, his features becoming more delicate, closer to Citrine's size—but still, Mato’s grasp doesn’t loosen.

Mato's gaze sharpens, his grip never faltering. Takota’s shift is quick, his movements fluid, but the larger Rock Giant is just too strong, too steady.

"I don't need your tricks." Mato’s voice is cold, before he throws Takota down, dropping him roughly at Gwen's feet.

"It's not what you think." Takota says up at Gwen, his expression earnest.

Gwen tries to remember what she recalls of Native American myths. They're imprecise, but...

Then she frowns , no scowls "Takota. What did you try while I was 'away' with White Buffalo Calf woman?"

Art looks startled. "Boys, you're both pretty." He says, before going silent as Gwen takes the lead.

Takota's voice is earnest, but there's an edge of desperation as he tries to smooth things over, feeling the weight of Mato’s gaze upon him. His words stumble out.

"I wasn't going to rob you," he says quickly, looking between her and Mato, his expression tense. "You have to understand, Gwen... I just—I would’ve worked to convince you." He shifts slightly, his posture pleading. "The belt, it belongs with the Nunnehi... with the tribes. We need something like this, something to hold us together."

Even now, she feels kindly towards him, it's hard to be mad at such a charismatic fellow, it's like kicking a puppy. Or is it?

And suddenly she closes herself in that troll stoicism, that duty to her mother ... it helps. Troll will is strong when it focuses on the duty "The wheel is not to be bound together by lies, not when lies over history are what hurt so many tribes. " Her eyes are dark a bit, just a bit.

"It ain't Medicine, though."

"Not sure what the Nunnehi equivalent of Kenning is, but it's different magic."

"The moonflower belt is of the purest Medicine. Imagine the lore lost if the few remaining elders fade away," Takota says, his voice urgent but sincere. "The belt could help revive them, Gwen. It could bring back something we’ve nearly lost—something that could hold us together, keep our traditions alive when everything else is slipping away."

"Surely you understand." Takota presses one of Gwen's hands between his own two, his grip soft and warm.

Mato grumbles, shaking his head. "A true Nunnehi understands the passage of seasons," he says, his tone heavy with disappointment. "We do not seek to impose a new spring on an Elder who has not called for it." He pauses, his voice turning surprisingly sage. "What is stolen—no matter the cause—is never worth the cost. Not to the spirit, and not to the heart." He looks at Takota, his burning coal eyes piercing. "Stolen by honeyed words is just as false as if by grasping hands."

"But it's not Medicine, it's furkin' Glamour."

"Anybody else here forge chimera? No."

"Lies and theft with excuses about how it was good for all... Great spirit, do you know how very much you sound like the Great White Father's agents of old right now, Takota?" She says with disgust "And it's glamour, not medicine. Thistle would know even if it wasn't obvious to the others of us. It wouldn't UNITE the tribes. They'd smell it wasn't medciine. "

Gwen eyes Takota, and ponders "If I take your eyes, will you be blind in the next life, Takota? I'm really tempted to take your eyes. Maybe you'd learn to listen if you couldn't see." Thoughtful, and ice toned. "You wronged a Daireann, or tried to. Do you have ANY idea how bad a fuck up that is?"

"Are we sure he's acting as himself?"

"I mean, before going all Oedipus on him."

Takota's face pales as Gwen and Thiste's words sink in, the weight of the truth. For a long moment, he stands there, his shoulders slumping as if all the strength has left his body. His grip on Gwen's hand loosens, and his gaze drifts to the ground.

"The Belt isn’t…?" He mutters, his voice faltering as the realization takes root. His usual charisma, the confidence that had defined him just moments ago, seems to evaporate.

A deep sigh escapes him, , looking up at Gwen with a mixture of regret. "I... I ... just wanted to help my people."

She's reaching for a hunting knife, and brings it to his eye "I bet you did. And all it would cost is leaving my mother in pain. "

"All for a gift that wouldn't work for the elders of the people anyway"

Takota's hands fly up and he flinches back, to protect his face from the knife.

Mato crosses his arms. "Style without substance is just a fool’s dance," he mutters.

Art shakes his head.

"She probably SHOULD give you a pretty little scar for the insult. You've earned it." Art says to Takota.

Gwen's free hand grabs his hair, his long lovely hair, even as her knife dives foward seemingly for his face and then.. no, twisting it cuts his hair. It isn't scalping, no flesh cut away... but the nanehi may lose a LOT of his glorious raven locks!

And then he's free, possibly falling back, and able to look at the long strands of hair collected in one of her hands, no longer a part of him. It may take him a second to process he just got a very uneven and short cut

"Dude, and she liked you."

There is a waver in the air, not a wind, but the air itself quivering!

"I believe you, Takota," She says dangling his hair "I really do. That you MEANT well. That, and the help you offered, is the only reason you still have two eyes or your pretty lying face otherwise unmarred. " She snorts her scorn "And I did like you. Did. This? This was RESTRAINT on my part. Never ever threaten to cause harm to my mother directly, indirectly, or by action again or you will find out what real vengeance is!"

She tucks Citrine in her pocket and seeks Art's hand - this might turn into a bumpy ride, better to be prepared.

Takota’s eyes widen in shock as Gwen's knife twists, severing a large portion of his beautiful raven hair. He stumbles back, hands instinctively reaching for the now-missing locks as if he can't believe it.

“No! My hair!” He touches the newly cut ends, his fingers trembling. "You can't— you can't do that!" His voice is almost pleading, but there's a faint whimper of real loss beneath his vain exclamation. "It's not fair!"

The earth trembles , and a spirit - one of twisting wood growing from the Earth and spreading branches,

“I am disappointed in you, Takota,” Dogwood’s voice is deep, ancient, and carries the resonance of ages. "I am the embodiment of all that is rooted and true," Dogwood speaks, the words settling like the weight of an ancient forest. "And you, Takota, are a branch that sought to sever itself from the tree."

The leaves around them rustle as though responding to the spirit's displeasure. The distant trees around the clearing seem to lean in, their branches creaking in disapproval.

“You sought to betray those who offered you trust, your ambition clouding the path to honor.”

Takota's head hangs, guilt and fear battling with his innate arrogance. He opens his mouth to protest, but no words come.

"Until you can atone for this misstep, you will walk alone," Dogwood declares, the finality in its tone undeniable. "I will not guide one who has strayed so far from the path. Find your honor, Takota. Seek redemption. Only then may you seek my guidance once more."

Gwen grows reverent, even in her moment of payback, as Dogwood speaks, "Honored Dogwood. My heart is too hard to plead on his behalf. However, if 'I' have wronged you or shamed myself in the eyes of my forefathers, but let me know. Those Amends I can make"

Gwen wonders if Dogwood knows it is one of her favorite trees. Probably.

A branch lowers to brush against her forehead. The Totem doesn't speak to her, but she feels her heart lighten once more. And, when it draws away, a blossom is tucked behind one ear.

"Dogwood, please." Takota kneels, and continues pleading in Lakota dialect. But the tree has turned it's back - somehow this is obvious, even though a sensible person would think Trees don't HAVE backs. And, the Totem fades from view, leaving the fae and Nunnehi alone once more.

"My thanks" She mutters at the blossom and blushes

Art holds Thistle's hand and realizes he has also been holding his breath - he lets it out with a whoosh.

Gwen also sees that when the Totem vanished, so too did the hair in her hands, melting away into the air.

Takota buries his head in his hands.

She looks at the Rock Giant "I have taken coup from him, not with a touch, to be sure. Out of respect for you, and the old ways, If you demand I leave now. I will. I am in debt to you for your keen eyes, and honest heart ,Mato of the Rock Giants."

"It looks like Dogwood took it with him." Mato rumbles. "Perhaps such long and lovely locks were a gift from the Totem to begin with. He might not be so graced a second time."

"Shame." She shakes her head.

Mato reaches up and touches his own head, craggy granite or shaved smooth depending on what eyes look on him, and shakes his head in disdain.

"I have no right to demand you leave, nor would I. YOU have kept faith, and your totems walk with you yet." A glare down at Takota, but something softens - pity, a touch, to the disdain. "I will see him returned to where he came from."

"Though it might be more fitting to leave him in the Upper Lands without his guide, and see how far he gets." The Rock Giant grates.

Gwen eyes Tony not able to feel sorry for him "We need to return as well. I have promises to keep, and I owe my friends fun at the powwow and gather. They've been good guests to it."

"We're also owed fry bread tacos."

Gladiola has not been blind to how her friends have used their curiosity with respect while among the various crafts folk and story tellers. She's proud of them which they might notice by her look at them "And yes, Fried Bread Tacos are owed. Would you like some Mato? Come with us ,and I'll buy"

Something new gleams in Mato's eyes. Hunger, but not the bestial sort of a redcap. It's more of a deep longing, for the joy of a mighty feast.

"Perhaps...." He pauses. "I will guide you."

"Again you have my thanks" She assures, touching the blossom at her ear, which she far prefers to the hair of the nanaehi in her hand anyway Good trade She looks up "And my thanks to Thunderbird as well. If he wishes to continue his watch over me, I hope I prove to be worthy, and I am honored"

"Hungrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!" Citrine buzzes past in agreement, having finally awoken.