Skill:
Týr

Muse music: https://open.spotify.com/track/1NzNNQupp...3b468840d5

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The world had devolved into chaos.

The storm overhead opened, the sky groaning as the dark clouds spiraled, backlit only by the constant flickering threat of lightning. The clouds overflowed, rain drizzling down in rhythmic patterns onto the forest below. It was only a thin mist, but it was as cold as ice, winter rain gracing the sky like a thousand tiny, diamond-shaped daggers. Thunder would boom, at first rumbling with low animosity ... but it would grow and surge as the storm took on a form all its own.

Despite the weakness of the rain, the wind would whip. And the thunder would groan ... lightning would flicker consistently in the dark clouds above.

And Rune was not afraid.

Just like that night in the den with Fenrir ... she had been drawn to it then, and she was drawn to it now. The chaos. The danger. The dancing lights in the sky triggered enigmatic memories somewhere in her mind. They meant something, she was sure of it. And today, she would find out. Rune would leave the den, bracing herself against the wind and the ice-cold mist, flattening her ears atop her head as she chased the storm's heart into the island's center.

Chaos would invite change.

She could feel the electricity in the air, the fur all along her back mirroring it to stand on end. With each flash and clap, she would flinch, but she would not deter. Wind whipped, leaves and needles from the evergreen trees raining down upon her as the dead grass and packed snow at her feet vibrated with intensity.

The storm led her to a clearing, and she slowed at the edge of her safety ... she knew the open field was a danger. But there, out in the center of the field, was a solitary tree. Ancient, decayed, and dry. The storm clouds seemed to hover above it, swirling and dancing with life and light. Rune would swallow, exiting her safety to move toward the tree. As she neared it, a particularly bright flash of light emitted, a bolt of lightning striking the dried bark as if magnetized to it.

The girl flinched, falling backward for a moment as she turned her face away from the light and the resounding and horrifying CRACK that followed.

And when she looked back up, the tree was on fire, ignited by the light from the heavens and the inside of the shell burned. It would seem that the mist was not enough to deter the chaos and fire of the lightning. The mist was not enough to stop a message from the gods. Heat now emanated from the hollow lifeform, its skin peeling and its body wheezing as smoke and ash lifted upward into the sky like a beacon.

The fire from within the tree burned through the cracks, revealing a message.

And her eyes widened.

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How the tree might look, but with this shape:

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

With the disappearance of Freya and his children, Tyr had found himself living within her quarters while the children who remained slept. There was but 5 of them now, 3 having ascended with their mother. For the most part they remained strong, but there was definitely an air of confusion amongst the youngsters.

Tyr was also confused, and the more he remained in her den, the more it felt like he was clinging onto something that would not return.

Nestled amongst what he could describe as a dog pile, a storm aroused his sleep mind. The roar of thunder, the hammer of rain. The god were alive tonight. While he'd usually have brushed it off as his brother's yammering, Tyr found himself listening to the rustle of movement as someone scampered out of the den.

Often a dangerous expedition when Thor was around.

He couldn't help the urge to follow, being careful not to awaken the brood further as he unwound himself from the tangle of Asgeir's limbs. A clingy boy, that one. Perhaps protective of those who remained, just like himself. While the sun was setting, they were all asleep so early. Tired no doubt from the world that just turned upside down.

With one final look over his shoulder, he dove into the sea of rain and began to follow the creature of the night.

Little Rune, he recognised the dusky shades of blue as he followed from a distance. The girl seemed to be entranced by the storm, in tune with the raging thunder and claps of lightning that brought light to the darkened sky. He would often count the seconds between the strikes, amusing himself by trying to work out how near or far his brother was in the heavens. A guessing game, or hide and seek. A fond memory he looked upon.

A clearing was coming up ahead and she did not shy away while he stopped at the tree line. Colour him intrigued by her actions as he remained silent. Watching. Listening. A solitary tree in the meadow called to her it seemed. She saw something he didn't on the ancient trunk, drawing closer. Too close with the storm looming above as the pour rain drenched the pair of wolves.

It had been a while since the last lightning- white light errupted in front of him.

He didn't need to finish his sentence as he flinched back, blinded by the strike that let off an enormous roar accompanied with the deathly crack of the tree. With his heart within his throat, Tyr leapt forwards with a shout. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet but he could already feel the heat as he rapidly approached.

Rune! Are you okay, Uruz?!

Finally his eyes opened, looking at the scene of burning before him. A fallen Rune amongst the snow, the corpse of the ancient tree split and burning from the inside out. He did not pay close enough attention to it, his daughter his first priority as he rushed to her side, looking over her frantically for any signs of injury.

Where would Cedar be if he needed him in this moment?

Skill:

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She remained fixated, deafened by the sound of crackling bark as the fire culminated within that wooden chamber. The tree, once hollow, took on new life. New form. New purpose. The storm was still twisting in the sky above, dark clouds circling overhead like vultures. The soft mist still trickled, spitting from the sky and creating a dew over the dual toned furs of her face.

Rune’s eyes were wide, tracing the fire and absorbing the shape of it. And she glowed in the soft colors of red and orange. The rune. Her rune. But she did not yet understood what it meant.

She barely heard her faðir approach, his paws far softer than the sounds that currently entrapped her mind. But his worried voice pulled her, a worried patter in her chest as her gaze fluttered and she turned toward him. Her smaller frame would stand, ears flicking forward as she turned her dual-toned eyes toward him with a softness that she hoped would help placate his worry.

Faðir! She took a step toward him, nudging him suddenly with an eagerness as she tired to draw his eyes toward the burning tree. Don’t worry, I am unharmed, but … look, she continued, but Tyr was already looking.

A silence fell over them.

What does it mean, faðir? Her voice was as soft as the mist, eyes wide with fascination as she sought her father’s guidance.

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