Family Matters

	ST Thursday, March 5, 2026 Far outside Bakersfield, onward toward the horizon, is a vast, empty, snowy steppe, with a black sky and a white ground. But, after traveling a long time or a short time, it’s hard to miss: the snows get a little less powdery and a little more slushy, sparse trees quickly becomes dense forestry, patches of wet soil interspersing the heretofore endless snow, and the air becomes a little warmer, a little wetter, a little more alive. Even animals can be heard—sleepy sounds starting to mark the arrival of dawn. The moon rolls its slow, steady roll, close to the horizon, and occasionally a dark shape moves in the night sky, adjusting drooping stars here and there with the care and meticulousness of an artist. There is no sun rising, however—it remains as dark as ever. All the same, it’s not difficult to find Mokosh, kneeling in the dirt, gently coaxing delicate chamomile flowers to bloom with her dirt-coated fingers and the breath of life, as gentle as a whisper. She pulls away, looking at the flowers, weariness lining her face and concern—deep, but a drop in the bucket—slightly creasing her brow. The flowers are slightly droopy, and not as vibrant as one might expect from a fertility goddess, but they are open to the air now, and are living, at least. She looks up at the black dawn and presses her lips firmly together. Then she looks over at her youngest daughter’s current flower patch as a matter of course, briefly scanning her, and it.
	Dovile Dovile is sitting, quietly carving seeds out of chunks of bone, and buring them. Around her, the earth pushes gently aside as the flowers begin to hesitently bud.
	Sanura The two trudge through the snow that she’d thought left behind for longer than this. Still if it made them feel at home it was a good thing. She glances over to Ken who she’d recruited to come along as a pack mule and possible buffer between herself and the Bogovi family. Sanura smiles a little “thanks for coming to help I’m not so sure I’d have been able to get this all up here in one trip” she chuckles a bit as she adjusts the basket on her arm and the backpack that sadly creases her dress. She’d dressed carefully too, wearing something fashionable but warm, fur lined coat and boots helping to keep her warm despite the short underskirt. Her hair is kept in place thanks to the black scarf with red roses folded and tied carefully about her head. She spies the two women and as they’re the first signs of life she’d seen she makes her way over, holding her tongue till acknowledged by the elder.
	Ken “Of course.” Ken smiles at Sanura. He’s still more skittish than normal, but over the last few weeks he’s calmed considerably. As they get near the Bogovi ladies, he slows to match Sanura’s pace. He shifts the backpack a little on his shoulders to keep the too-big straps from sliding any more than they already have, and tips his hat (the one on top of his other hat) in Mokosh’s direction.
	ST Mokosh looks over to Ken and motions for him to set down his burden on a dry-ish dirt patch nearby. Then she looks to Sanura. Her eyes flick to the headscarf, and deep, pained sympathy crosses her expression. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry for your loss. And so soon after returning to your home.” Her words are in Russian, smooth and deliberate. She rises and draws closer, pressing her soil-dusted hands to her heart. “How long were you and your late husband married?”
	Sanura Sanura blinks a few times and shakes her head. “Nope no husband.. just hair that get’s frizzy when wet” she grimaces a bit and adjusts the fabric on her head carefully and flashes Mokosh a smile. “I’ll steer clear of black next time though perhaps” actually tugging it off her head to avoid further confusion. She adjusts the basket on her arm and dips in a faint curtsy. “We’ve come to pay our respects and hopefully break bread if your family would be available, Lady.”
	Ken Ken sidles over to the indicated patch and slips the pack off his shoulders. His eyes flick between the three others restlessly, before he turns his attention to the surrounding forest. But his mouth twitches a tiny bit in amusement at Dovile and Mokosh. Before Mokosh can answer, he adds in russian, “We don’t have any real bread though. Just this crap made with yeast and flour. They forgot to put in any sawdust.”
	ST “Oh, I see,” says Mokosh. “Actually, it wasn’t the black. It was the 100-thread count fabric. Only a woman in mourning would use anything less than 250-thread count fabric.” She waves her hands a little. “And putting it lower down like that will…” She presses her lips together a moment. “Well… Just… put it away, if you want to avoid any confusion.” She looks over at Ken, raising an eyebrow and lifting a chin, and says, “No sawdust, you say? Hmph. Well, it’ll do. There should be some fresh wood chips lying around here somewhere. We can top the bread with it at least, so it won’t be a complete disaster.” She brushes off her hands, then glances over to Dovile.
	Dovile Dovile is trying to keep any trace of humor off of her face.
	Sanura Sanura eyes Ken and then one dark brow arches upwards as she looks at her basket. Damn glad she’d used her finest stock for the gifts she’d made. She blinks a few times and then sighs. “I hope no one minds if I forgo the extra fiber” she murmurs dryly before her gaze catches the struggling Dovile and she tilts her head to the side, waiting.
	Ken “Good thing you’re so on top of it, lady.” He seems like he’s about to continue, but immediately shuts up to keep from laughing at the continued conversation about the scarf. Instead, he pushes up heavily-darned sleeves and starts pulling the food out of the pack, setting it on a cloth sanura brought for the purpose.
	Dovile Dovile nods to her mother, and then begins helpinh Ken set up the meal, her amusement quelled.
	ST “Well, my cottage isn’t ready yet. But a little picnic might be… nice.” At Dovile’s nod Mokosh motions for everyone to begin arranging the food. “The others should be here shortly.”
	Sanura Sanura smiles a little and looks concerned. “Do you have lodgings for the interim?”
	Ken Ken hands Dovile a basket and fishes out a bundle of silverware, and begins setting plates out.
	Dovile Dovile opens the basket and pulls flowers up, arranging them into several table center peices. She watches Ken as he puts out plates, scattering the center peices along the long cloth runner. When he’s finished (perhaps with some minor, silent, correction in his setting by Dovile) 44 place settings line a long, delecitly embroidered runner, with four bundles of flowers down the middle.
	ST Mokosh eyes Sanura briefly, then her expression eases. “Yes. There’s this hollow in an oak tree not far from here. The squirrel family that lives there is very nice. They have quite excellent manners. And their fine china—oh, what a marvel!”
	Ken “Yeah but squirrels are a little nutty. You better keep an eye on them.” His tone makes it clear this is a joke - he means no offence to any actual squirrels. Ken places dishes of food along the runner, inbetween the floral arrangements.
	Sanura Sanura blinks a few times and then quirks a brow at that. “Well should you wear out your welcome I’m certain that Bear can I can easily create for you simple homes like those we made for the mortals below, should you so desire” she murmurs as she looks over the settings and smiles a little bit. “Nicely done guys, thanks” She smiles a little and starts to unpack the foods she’d had some of the ladies of the town help with. “I hope these dishes will be satisfactory, I’m actually not terribly familiar with Egyptian cooking beyond my studies but they were extensive in my youth.” she murmurs as she begins to arrange things with main courses and side dishes down the rows, trying to ensure that at least one main dish and one side is within reach of everyone. The desert she holds back for later but the drinks are produced along with glass wear. She hesitates. “I brought some gifts but.. perhaps they’re inappropriate..” she hedges worriedly as she looks from the basket and then back to the cloth to make some fine tuning to the lay out of the spread. .
	ST (To Epic Per 4+ folks) From off in the distance… “Pchelka moya… mon cœur… mi tesoro…" It’s a man’s voice, sweet and smooth, the longing in his voice so naked it hurts. There are two sets of footsteps approaching.
	Dovile Dovile, looking clandestly in Sanura’s basket for her, looks up at something, and then rolls her eyes.
	ST A voice, coming closer, speaking Russian. “Please, Renuta, my darling, my gold. Say anything—cast me aside, if you must, eviscerate me with your words. I just need to hear your voice again, that sweet, sweet song!” The temperature in the grove drops, very quickly. Breath begins to frost on the air again, and rime collects on the flowers. Mokosh lets out a gasp, nearly reaching out for her chamomiles, but then closes her eyes, takes a breath, collects herself, and calms. A woman enters, her skin deathly pale except where it’s tinged in blue, eyes milky, and expression as frigid as the icy ground that follows her footsteps, as if her ragged dress train were made of frost itself. “Hello, little bunny,” Mokosh says, somewhat less than enthusiastically. Her greeting is not returned, but it is acknowledged with a flick of a withered hand. Following her is a man with dirty blond hair, curled in elegant ringlets, and a smooth-skinned, ever-youthful face. Beneath his feet melts the frost and new shoots spring to life with their passing. “Hello, little flower,” Mokosh says in the same tone as before. Again, her greeting is not returned—indeed, the young man hardly seems to notice, as his eyes are filled with welling tears, and the vision of beauty before him, denying him even a passing word.
	Dovile Dovile stands up to bow politely, not particullarly expecting to be noticed.
	Sanura Sanura watches with a faint tilt of her head and offers a slight bow of sorts to the two arriving. “Good Day, Lady, Lord..”
	ST Morena offers Sanura a stiff nod. “Good day,” she says utterly flatly, not sounding at all like she wishes Sanura a good day. “Ah!” cries Jarilo, clasping his hands over his heart. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “At last! Such music falls not even from birds’ beaks or the strangled whisper of a deer’s last breath ’neath the jaws of a wolf.” Morena’s eyes flicker a moment and a light fog of frost escapes from parted lips. But then her expression frosts over and her jaw clenches. “Have a seat, Jarilo,” says Mokosh, resigned. When he doesn’t respond, still rapturous, she puts her hands on him and moves him over to a spot at the picnic runner.
	Sanura Sanura watches and feels a bit bad for the guy. Maybe though she was less frosty in the summer months. “I hope the food is to your liking.”
	Dovile Dovile is watching sternly, not the least bit of humor on her face. At all. For real. Nothing funny going on here.
	Ken “Do deer sing all pretty-like when wolves munch them? Shit, I’ve been missing out.” Ken says, straight-faced. “Hey Dovile, I know something we should try next Monday…”
	Dovile “I’ll bring the wolves.” Dovile says, keeping her voice solemn with some effort. She felt that the music of death had a place, Jarilo cracked her up.
	Sanura Sanura glances at the group a bit out of the joke there but as long as they were having fun?
	Sanura Sanura worries her lip as she regards the Egyptian fair, she’d had it herself when she’d traveled but she wasn’t very sure how she’s done cooking it.
	ST Morena tilts her head, even stiffer than before, in acknowledgement of Sanura. Then she looks over her shoulder at Jarilo, assessing his spot at the table. Shortly after she gives a look to Mokosh, who sighs, gives her a sympathetic press of the lips and shakes her head. Morena lets out a quietly disgruntled huff and moves off to the complete opposite end of the runner. Behind some conveniently placed foliage.
	Dovile Dovile looks up from Sanura’s bag and drifts to the table, casting a long look on the worried StarBringer as she walks. ((Dovile paying 3 for Mind Link with Sanura.))

	Dovile -These are hankerchifs.-
	Dovile -Right?-
	Dovile The thought isn’t hostile, but it is rather emotionless.
	Sanura -Ah.. scarves.. you know to protect your hair-
	Dovile -They are hankerchifs. All of them.-
	Dovile -More useful.-
	Dovile After a pause, in which Dovile realizes she’s been a bit brusk. -Nice colors.-
	Sanura a moment of pause before Sanura replies "If you think that will be more well received.. " “thanks.. I tried to make them.. fitting”
	Dovile -I do. Normally, only old women wear headscarves. Aunt Pripolega would explode.-

	Sanura Sanura frowns a little and sighs as she adjusts things that probably don’t need it.
	Ken When he notices her fidgeting, Ken says, “So Sanura… you’ve been doing a fu— a fantastic job with those tents. What’s next?” He’s trying to be subtle, but the motive is pretty transparent: he wants to get her on a more comfortable topic.
	Sanura Sanura glances to Dovile and nods a little before she looks to Ken with his question. “Oh.. ah .. well I’ve got some gifts in mind… the shop seems well in hand..”
	Sanura Sanura seems to relax a little and a smile turns her lips as she glances to Ken “I might need some help in the making if you’d be up for it.. getting the different things to make the gifts..”
	Dovile Dovile looks around at the clearing for a moment, and then almost smiles.
	Ken Ken glances around restlessly. “Sure, I’m game. But I gotta warn you, I’m complete shit at making anything fancy. What kinda help do you want?”
	Sanura Sanura shrugs “I’m not sure just yet, but I know I’ll need help getting… ingredients and so on.. I don’t think the ink I’ve tried so far will work.”
	Ken “Sure. Whatever you want.” Ken glances back to Mokosh. “So these squirrels you’re staying with, anyone I’ve met?” He keeps a close ear out on the surroundings, partly from habit and partly to not be surprised by any arrivals.
	ST “I wouldn’t know. They certainly didn’t mention speaking to or housing a hobo.” Mokosh eyes Ken. “Though if you like I will put in a good word for you—especially now that it’s rained on you and you managed to get yourself a razor. Their divan is very comfortable, and they have the softest blankets.” All this is said absolutely straightfaced.

	Dovile -Stop worrying about the food, it will be fine. We’ll eat when everyone gets here.-
	Dovile -Also, mother was teasing. Lighten up.-
	ST -She wouldn’t explode…- It’s Sasha’s thought, coming through, warm like a hearthfire.
	Dovile -Yes, she would.-
	Dovile -You rember when Perun took her seat at that birthday party?-
	Sanura -I- wear head scarves by the way.. not often but I mean they are useful to keep off the rain. Not that we see much rain around here usually..-
	ST -She didn’t explode. She just went off into a corner and burst into tears. If anything, I’d say Mokosh exploded. She cuss—err, scolded—Perun and then went off to console her sister.-
	Sanura -Oh dear… I wouldn’t want anyone to cry..-
	Dovile -Sasha! I am trying to make her less nervious!-
	ST -Sorry! There’s really nothing to be nervous about. No one will do anything to you with Mokosh there. She is very protective of guests.-
	Sanura -I wasn’t… afraid for my life or something.." the tone holds a faint muttering note.
	ST -And you shouldn’t be.- Sasha sends nodfeeling over. -But you’re trying to make a good impression. That’s a perfectly reasonable concern. Um, not that you should be especially worried about making a good impression in this case. Which is what I was saying.-
	Sanura Sanura’s thoughts hold a faint frowning confusion “Why shouldn’t I worry about that.. it’s important to make alliances and I do rather want your family to like me.” pause “Not ’Sasha’s but both of your family..” mutter mutter
	Dovile -Jo, jo. It’s important. So ligthen up.-
	Sanura Sanura goes blank a moment “Dovile is telling me to lighten up.. what in the name of Set is wrong with me today”
	Dovile -I don’t know. I was begining to worry you were having… problems.- The word ‘problems’ carries ominious overtones, and the feeling of snakes in long grass. -But Sasha says you are just worried about making a good impression.-
	Sanura Sanura pauses “OH..oh.. no.. no.. I’m .. it’s not anything I’m thrilled with but .. it will be fine eventually”
	Dovile -Wait, you are having problems?-
	Sanura Sanura frowns "of course… we all lost something on arrival.. "
	ST Sasha goes quiet. Of course, he was quiet to begin with, but the warmth of his presence fades a bit before coming back. -Well, all you need to do is relax and have fun.- The term “fun” is said cheerfully but rather… ambiguously.
	Sanura Sanura smiles faintly “Well get here and show me how it’s done” she tries to sound more… pepped up herself.
	Dovile -I’m offended.- Dovile thinks, deadpan. -Here I am, having more fun then a bucket of goldfish, and you need him?-
	Sanura … “A bucket of goldfish?”
	Dovile -Is vey fun.-
	Dovile -Espeically when they fight.-
	ST -Dovile…- Sasha begins, his tone chiding. -That’s betta fish.-
	Dovile -Some of them are gold.-
	Dovile -After you paint them.-
	Dovile -Really, betta fish?-

	Sanura Sanura’s brow quirks rather high and she has to bite her lips with a faint glare in Dovile’s direction. Shaking her head slightly she glances to Ken “oh my roof isn’t good enough for you now?”
	Ken “Damn. Sounds nice, but I have a thing about going inside. But if they’re looking for someone to swap acorns with, I know the best trees.” Ken gives her a warm, genuine smile. When Sanura mentions her roof, he claps a hand over his heart and takes on a dramatically exaggerated tone. “No, my little star! My kitten! Your roof, it is the best fucking roof in all of Bakersfield! My heart lives on that roof!”
	Sanura Sanura blinks a few times and then laughs a little as she shakes her head. “I bet” she smiles, the most amusing part to her being the ‘endearments’
	Ken Ken leans over to Jorillo and says, sotto voce, “Don’t tell that to Mark Mendez though, he thinks his roof is the only one I go to.” He eyes Sanura suspiciously, as if this were a deep secret he was keeping from her.
	Sanura Sanura snorts softly at that and shakes her head. “you roof trollop” she teases lightly before glancing over to Dovile and quirking her brows a bit.

	Sanura -Dovile can you give out the ‘handkerchiefs’ at an appropriate moment?"
	Dovile -I’ll let you know when. It will be right before we start the drinking.-
	Sanura -shit- I didn’t consider the drinking… how do I not get pissed -
	Dovile -Follow Yes—-
	Dovile -Follow Lena’s lead.-
	Sanura -Right.. ok-
	Dovile -And if you do, don’t worry. We like drunk people.-
	Dovile -Sasha will keep you from making a tottal ass of yourself.-
	Dovile -Well…-
	Sanura -grimace over the mental link-
	Dovile -Just start having him check everything you say before you say it when you start feeling tipsy.-
	Sanura Sanura snirks a little "So I’ll just make an ass out of myself to Sasha, way better-
	Dovile -And me.-
	Dovile -I’ll be here too.-
	Sanura -and you.. joy-
	Dovile -Judging you.-
	Sanura …
	Sanura -fml-
	Dovile Dovile’s laughter-feeling seeps across the link.
	ST -Don’t worry. I won’t judge you. You probably won’t get any more ridiculous than I get when I’m drunk.-
	Dovile -Lord yes.-

	Dovile Dovile keeps a streight face and moves from where she is sitting, under an Aspen tree, to the other side of the table (and up a few spots) for no obvious reason.
	ST Jarilo’s eyes open and he turns to Ken as if seeing him for the first time. After blinking a couple times, he says, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any rubles on me.”
	Sanura Sanura looks a little worried.
	Ken Ken laughs at Jarilo’s comment, practically doubling over from the funniness. It takes him a minute to collect himself, breathless. “Shit, not even one? Why the fuck am I talking to you then, huh?”
	ST Mokosh presses her lips in a flat line and tweaks Jarilo’s ear. “He’s a guest. You will treat him with respect.” “Ow! Okay, okay.” Jarilo begins to motion to across the runner then pauses and looks back to Mokosh. “Where’s my heart, my gold, mi cielo?” His face pales even further and his eyes widen. “Did she leave me behind for good?” The heartbreak cracks over his face, clear as day. Mokosh’s expression twists a little. “No, little flower.” The pain eases. “Then where might I find the lone light of my life?” Once more Mokosh is caught. After a moment she puts a hand over her eyes and murmurs, “Somewhere around here, I’m sure.” Jarilo rises at once. “Then I will find her!” Without further ado he turns away and begins his search.
	Sanura Sanura suddenly gets a funny look on her face like a mixture of amazement and having eaten something strange.
	Dovile Dovile’s mouth twitches, and she averts her gaze from Morena, and away from Jarilo’s love-lorn face.
	ST (Epic Per 4+)“I’m just… really nervous, Chors. My lord husband isn’t around so… no one else is obliged to treat me like… like…” “Oh, Pizamar. I’m so sorry. If… if you aren’t comfortable going to this picnic, I’ll be happy to have you over for private tea instead.” “Thank you, Chors. But I really should go. Sasha’s going to be there, representing Lord Svarozhich, so… so I should be there too.”
	Sanura Sanura shakes her head a little and looks after Jarilo “So ah.. this is ongoing isn’t it?” she murmurs quietly in question.

Dovile
-Every bloody spring.- Dovile says, in response to Sanura’s question about Jarilo.

ST
“Yes,” says Mokosh. “Every damn spring.”

	Sanura After recovering there’s a heart image toward Sasha for his words and then a soft grimace “poor thing..”
	Dovile -Eh, he cheats on her.-
	ST -Then she slaughters him. And builds a house of his bones. And feeds his liver to… ah, Liver.-
	Dovile -It’s recycling.-
	Sanura Well.. it is ah.. environmentally friendly?
	Dovile Dovile brings up an image of the empty, dark and echoing cave of Peklo where Morena rules, and the lovely house of bones (meat still rotting off) where she lived in the winter.
	Sanura Shudder
	Dovile -It’s cozy. Keeps the beer cold.-
	Sanura -Cozy?-
	Dovile -Yes.-
	Dovile -There is even a cushion for Liver.-
	Sanura -oh well then-

	Ken Ken takes that in and mulls it over. “So… not the fastest learner I take it.”
	Sanura Sanura’s nose crinkles up a little before she schools her expression. “Well.. crosses to bear I guess.” she considers “I really should find a consort before my ways are set in stone…”
	Ken Ken makes a scoffing noise. “Fuck consorts.” He pauses, and continues, “No really. Fuck ‘em. That’s the whole point, ain’t it?”
	Sanura Sanura face palms slightly “I mean I suppose that’s -part- of it?”
	ST Mokosh perks up at Sanura mentioning a consort. “Companionship,” she says in response to Ken, holding up a finger. “Intimacy and affection. A consort is more than just sparks in the bedroom. Although that certainly helps.” She offers Sanura a not-quite-smile. “I’ll keep an eye out for you, dear.”

	Dovile -Oh, you’ve done it now.-
	ST -At least she won’t bug you as much about it, Doviluze.-
	Dovile -True.-
	Dovile -Good job Starbringer.-
	Sanura -… you’re welcome- dryly
	Dovile -You should check in on that occasonally. Ask her if she’s found someone.-
	Sanura -Goddess help me-
	ST -Don’t worry, she will.-
	Sanura -fuuuuck-

	Sanura Sanura gestures to Mokosh with the confirmation and then her hand sort of droops.. and she gets an o fuck look on her face.
	Ken Ken gives Sanura a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and a mockingly sympathetic look.
	Sanura Sanura covertly gives Ken the finger.
	ST A glow begins to edge into the clearing, accompanied by the very faint drifting sounds of a violin like the mild, pleasant aroma of rose perfume. Mokosh straightens and motions sharply for Sanura and Ken to pay attention.
	Dovile Dovile streightens immedeintly, and then stands.
	Ken Ken pulls his hand back in and stands, following Dovile’s example. He flicks a glance toward the glow before giving Mokosh his full attention. Well, the eyes and ears part of it at least. He keeps the options open for his nose.
	ST Soon enough, entering the clearing are two goddesses: one is instantly recognizable as the ethereally beautiful Chors, shining like the full moon… and the other is beautiful as well, but in a much more grounded way, with brown-hair braided elaborately and put up, pinned in place by a miniature metal model of a harp. Her feet do in fact seem to touch the ground—in fact, they seem most comfortable on the ground, pressing into the soil not the way that Chors’s doesn’t, and not the way that Mokosh’s is embraced, but the way Sanura’s or Dovile’s might. She is just an inch or so shorter than the moon goddess, and seemingly surrounded by the faint strains of some musical piece or another, largely serene but for undertones of low-key tension and the soft but nervous-sounding shaking of a tambourine. “Lady Pizamar,” says Mokosh pointedly, dipping into a deeply respectful curtsey.

	Dovile -This is Lady Pizamar, Lord Svarozhich’s wife. Be Polite.-
	ST -You don’t have to be formal, though. She’s very nice and very approachable.-
	Dovile Dovile gives the impression of disagreement without saying anything. Clearly they’ve had this argument about before, and Sahsa won.

	Dovile Dovile bows deeply.
	Sanura Sanura straightens and puts on a polite smile of greeting as she too rises to meet the new arrivals. Sanura notes the bow and did incline her head deeply to the two.
	Ken Ken bows too, just a fraction of a second behind the Bogovi ladies.
	ST Chors also makes a point of pausing to curtsey to Pizamar. A slight blush of astonishment overtakes Pizamar, but she keeps her composure and nods in acknowledgement of everyone’s show of respect. Then, as Mokosh rises, she turns to Sanura and Ken, dismisses herself with a nod, and moves over to Pizamar to kiss either side of her cheek in a more familiar greeting.
	Sanura Sanura smiles at the more familial greeting exchanged. She remains standing for introductions of course though she does give Chors a warm smile and a swift little wave.
	Ken Ken flashes a warm grin to Chors, then an equally warm but less exuberant smile to Pizamar, inclining his head just a bit to show respect.
	Dovile Dovile sits quietly after greetings are exchanged, the pine needles rustling softly under her. She takes the moment to nod to Morena.
	Ken Ken flinches a bit and skips a breath, tensing in preparation of… something. But Dovile must have heard it too, and she hasn’t moved, so he forces himself to stay still.
	Dovile Dovile notices his nerves and gives him a calm look.

	Dovile -Veles’ sons are coming. Don’t let them ruffle you.-
	Sanura -ooook… - uncertain
	Dovile -They are just loud and annoying.-
	Dovile -And also violent.-
	Sanura Alertness.
	ST -I’m almost there. I’ll—- Sasha pauses, reconsidering. -Ah, I’ll just make sure there’s no… collateral damage.-
	Dovile -Good choice.-

	ST Chors looks up, then offers a small smile and wave to Sanura and Ken, her smile growing a little as her eyes settle on him. She also offers Dovile a slight smile, but lets her be. Morena looks over to Dovile and nods back. It’s not a particularly friendly nod, though, and it doesn’t help that there’s a fair-sized ring of snow around where the death goddess is seated. Just then, with a great CRACK! an aspen tree falls over, smashing just short of the picnic runner, sending leaves flying everywhere. An alarmed musical scratch rises from Pizamar. Mokosh instantly steps in front of Pizamar, facing the tree with wrath roiling on her face. Then, in the cloud of wood-dust rises a narrow-looking fellow with close-cropped hair, wiry muscles, and knobby, well-calloused hands. He brushes the wood chips off himself casually, then turns to start off at a run. “POREVIT,” calls Mokosh. Her pitch is piercing—just the right frequency to be startling and attention-grabbing, similar to how a baby’s cry is just the right frequency to be annoying. The young man stops as if he was yanked back by a collar, then turns, eyes wide like a boy who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Clean up your mess at once,” Mokosh orders firmly. “Yes, Lady.” Without giving it a second thought he ducks his head and picks up the fallen tree as if it were simply a stick. Then he turns and makes as if to throw the tree. “Properly,” Mokosh adds, her tone sharp. Porevit winces and bashfully curls in on himself a little, then holds the tree over his head and marches off to dispose of the aspen properly. Mokosh hmphs, then turns to Pizamar, whose music has settled to a slightly higher-key tension than when she first entered, offering a lift of the brows and a widening of the eyes to express her exasperation with the fellow.
	Dovile Dovile gives Chors a deep nod back, and then watches the show, glad she moved.
	Sanura After her original startle Sanura smiles faintly and makes note to ask Lady Mokosh for pointers. She pauses and glances to Dovile.
	Ken Ken can’t help it - he takes a step just to the side, placing himself between the tree-crushing newcomer and Pizamar, hand falling in place on his axehandle. But he stops there, and schools himself to a more relaxed posture as Mokosh takes charge.
	Sanura Sanura smiles softly at Ken’s chivalrous if apparently unneeded movement.
	ST Sasha steps over the stump, through the fog, brushing the dust off himself even as it begins to settle. As he steps into the clearing he bows deeply to all those gathered. Pizamar’s music eases noticeably, favoring the mild violin score over the undertones. She tilts her head and says, “Sasha, welcome.” Sasha rises and smiles then heads over. “Sorry I’m late. I was spreading the picnic invites along.” He offers grins of greeting to Sanura and Ken and begins to head over in their direction. Mokosh eyes Sasha up and down. “Were you the one who threw Porevit?” Sasha spreads his hands out, palm down. “No, no, no. That’s a privilege that only his brothers should have.” Mokosh relaxes a little. “I’m sure we can make an exception, should you want it.” Her brows lift slightly and she opens her mouth to make a snide comment, but thinks better of it and pushes her tongue into her cheek.

	Sanura -should I introduce myself?-
	Dovile -No, you should wait for Sasha.-
	Sanura -Right.. ok- nervous
	Dovile -It is okay. Everyone makes so much noise they won’t notice if you mess something up.-
	Dovile -Unless, you know, it is a big thing.-
	Sanura -When do I screw up in a small way?-
	Dovile -Eeehhh…- Dovile thinks for a moment. -Okay, fine.-
	Dovile -Don’t screw up.-
	Sanura You get the sense she snorted lightly
	ST -You’ll be fine. Someone else will screw up in an even bigger way and no one will remember your mess-up.-
	Dovile -Are you sure? Perun is not coming tonight…-
	ST -Porevit, Rugievit, and Porenut are coming tonight.-
	Dovile -Right.-
	Dovile -Nevermind.-
	Sanura -Rowdy?-
	Dovile Porevit is… the most restrained of his brothers.-
	Sanura -well then..-
	ST -Veles’s sons are pretty… spirited.-

	Sanura Sanura looks over Sasha with a concerned eye, he’d been in poor shape when she’d seen him last and her worry is palpable despite his seeming return to health.
	Ken Ken glares at Sasha. “About damn time you show up. We’ve been waiting so long the fucking hummus got cold!”
	ST Pizamar snaps a look to Ken, a startled violin scratch sounding as she does. Chors puts a hand on her shoulder, and the two goddesses exchange a look. Pizamar relaxes a little, visibly (and audibly, for that matter). Sasha moves over to what appears to be the main collective. “Don’t worry, Yosha. I’ll sit on it to warm it up.”
	Sanura Sanura rolls her eyes at Ken but looks a bit concerned at the discordant tones before they return to normal. “Sasha… you look better, I hope you’re back to your heroic self”

	Dovile -‘Heroic self’? Really?-
	Sanura -Do you know how many times he stopped me from dying?-
	ST -Well… I’m flattered.-
	Dovile -No comment.-
	Sanura -Yes I’m sure his efforts could have been better spent elsewhere- her tone only slightly bitter.
	Dovile -Starbringer- Dovile says, suddenly cold, -If I thought you were dead weight, you would be dead.-
	Sanura -thanks, I’m pretty sure..-
	ST -Doviluze’s right. Err, I mean that your life is worth saving. So… ah… do me a favor and just don’t be in danger so much, jo?-
	ST He sends over warm teasingfeeling.
	Sanura A faint snirk -I’m trying!-
	Dovile The coldness is gone from the link, and after a moment Dovile comes back, back in humor. -Don’t forget to introduce them, Sasha.-

	Ken With an apologetic look to Pizamar, Ken says, “Sorry. I’ll wash my mouth out now.” He takes a seat near-ish to Dovile. “Eh Solnyshka… you’ll just squish it. Better leave it cold.”
	ST Sasha strikes a heroic pose in response to Sanura, then doubles over, putting a hand to his back. “Aaagh, I think I threw out my back,” he groans in exaggerated pain, to tease Sanura. Pizamar looks over to Ken and offers him a polite press of the lips in gratitude, even though it’s a little strained—it’s clear his cursing wasn’t the biggest issue. Mokosh waves her hand. “Oh, don’t mind him. He was raised by a gutter.” “Please, it’s fine,” insists Pizamar. “I was just… not prepared, that’s all.”
	Sanura Sanura snickers a little at Sasha’s efforts “oh well I’ll have to recruit a new hero then, mores the pity” She waves him over. “Are you brave enough to try my cooking still?”
	Ken Ken shakes his head sorrowfully. “No, I definitely wasn’t raised by a gutter. When I was a kid we didn’t even have the fucking things. Well…” he looks at the sky, thoughtfully. “Rich bastards over in the capitol had ’em. But if you wanted a gutter you had to import the damn thing all the way from Denmark. In my town we just had kids stand under the eves with their mouths open to catch the rain.”
	ST Pizamar stares at Ken a bit, then presses a hand against her mouth. Her music betrays her, though, sending up little flute trills of laughter.
	Sanura Sanura grimaces softly, concerned Ken might get beheaded… then the gentle laughter like sounds reach her and she seems to relax a little.
	ST Sasha straightens and moves the rest of the way to the group. “Lady Pizamar, most esteemed wife of Lord Father Svarozhich, I would like to introduce Þjóðvarður Vindlerson, who is either an elf or a descendant of some kind of squirrel, and Sanura Menmatre, daughter of Bastet.” Pizamar nods to them both. “Pleasure to meet you.” Mokosh hmphs and eyes Ken. “Clearly no relation to that nice squirrel family that put me up. Pity.”
	Sanura Sanura bites her lower lip at the squirrel bit and then gives a curtsy to Pizamar. “A pleasure, Lady. I hope the impromptu feast finds favor with you and yours.”
	Ken “Nice to meet you too.” Ken grins at Pizamar, then raises his eyebrows at Mokosh. “Well I’m only squirrely on my ma’s side.”
	Dovile Dovile shoots Ken another ’it’s okay’ look a moment later, as the rather violent sounds reach sensitive ears.
	Ken He manages to keep his reaction to almost-imperceptible levels, and gives dovile a small nod of thanks.
	ST Pizamar opens her mouth to respond to Sanura. “Fuckin’—set me down, jackass! Face me like a real man! C’mon! I’ll rip your spine out your asshole and beat you with it!” Mokosh goes absolutely still, then says, “Excuse me,” to the group at large, and bustles away. As she’s just out of view, the noises drift back… “RUGIEVIT. Set Porenut down RIGHT. NOW." “Yes, Lady.” There’s a thump and the earth shakes. Her voice grows quieter, menacingly so. “You will go over to the picnic table, you will take seats at opposite ends, and you will sit quietly and behave yourselves, do you hear me?” “Yes, Lady.” Pizamar takes a deep breath, presses her lips together, then says, perhaps a little too loudly, “Ah… This arrangement is absolutely lovely. Who chose the runner?”
	Ken Ken jabs a thumb in Sanura’s direction. “Bitch has style, gotta give her that.” He says it as a compliment, no sarcasm at all.
	ST Pizamar blinks a couple of times, a little stunned, then nods restrainedly at Sanura. “Well done.” Chors is looking away, half hiding behind her hair, the back of her hand pressed against her smile to conceal it.
	Sanura Sanura glances to Ken and frowns a bit but then smiles to Lady Pizamar. “Oh I’m so glad you like it Lady, I hope the dishes the citizens helped prepare will please as well. I must admit it’s my first time making the dishes but I thought .. why not a challenge” she realizes she’s rambled a little and flushed gently before clearing her throat softly.

	Dovile -Well done.-
	Sanura Surprised pleasure at the brief approval.
	Dovile -Take the complement.-

ST
Pizamar’s expression warms—as does her music. “What dishes are these, if I may ask?”

ST
-Hey, look, she likes you already!-

	Sanura Sanura relaxes a little and gestures to each dish in turn, naming it, the course it is usually for, and the citizen who had either made or helped in it’s making. “They’re from Egyptian fair mostly, things I sampled on visits and found pleasing or at the very least an adventure of sorts”
	Ken Ken stifles a laugh. “I like adventures as much as the next guy, but damn. If someone describes the food as ‘an adventure’ I fucking run like hell.”
	Sanura Sanura glances to Ken and her nose wrinkles faintly. “it’s .. an adventure for the palate, at worst it’s a trifle spiced” she murmurs quietly.
	Ken He clears his throat. “Sorry, Sanura. You brought damn fine grub to this shindig. I know, I snuck tastes from most of it.” Ken’s smile turns to a mischievious grin.
	Sanura Sanura tsks softly and sighs as if putting up with a trying kid, though she does give Ken a faint smile in acceptance of his apology.
	ST Pizamar tilts her head a little, looking at Ken, then, still slightly uncertain. “How sweet of Tolti, to sample it for our sake,” Chors offers quietly, drawing her hand away from her mouth. She’s straight-faced, mostly, but for a glance sent Pizamar’s way, which seems to let Pizamar relax more. “I look forward to sampling these dishes, then,” says Pizamar. Just then, two big gentlemen enter the clearing, their heads down like scolded puppies. They move to opposite ends of the runner and seat themselves, staring at their laps obediently. From a distance: “They were only playing, Mokosh.” “Zhiva.” The name is said frostily enough to rival Morena’s manner. “Forgive me. Judging by how disruptive your boys were being, I thought you weren’t around to discipline them properly.” “I don’t believe that negative reinforcement is all that effective.” “I’m well aware.”

	Dovile -Zhiva is Veles’ wife.- -Just pretend she and Mokosh are being polite to each other.-
	Dovile -Not that Mother would ever be impolite.- Dovile corrects herself a oment later.
	Sanura Smirk -politely ignore any scuffles.. got it-
	ST -Oh, Mokosh and Zhiva won’t scuffle. They’ll just… be polite at—err, to—each other.-
	Sanura -ah..-

	Sanura Sanura looks around the grouping and smiles a little. She’d never had a big family but she imagines this is much like how it would be.. minus super powers that is.
	Ken Ken nods. “Most of it’s great. But you better not eat any of the mousakka. That was complete shit. I’ll have all of it so no one else has to.” There’s just enough teasing to his tone to make it clear to everyone he’s not serious. Ken glances up at the newcomers and tips his hat to them.
	ST “Such nobility,” Chors says. “The heart of a bogatyr beats in the breast of a squirrel.” Pizamar cracks a smile at Ken’s comment and Chors’s retort, growing a little more comfortable in bits and pieces. Her ambient music flows to match, the tambourine fading and a harp beginning to play. Sasha straightens. “Ah. That’s Porenut,” he says, motioning to the thicker fellow, “and Rugievit.” He motions to the darker-haired one. “Porevit’s brothers. Err, the fellow that came crashing in before me. All three are Lord Veles’s sons.” Just then a woman walks into the clearing, tall, straight-backed, and with summerwheat hair. Her lids are dark and hooded, giving her gaze a bit of a dreamy or perhaps sleepy cast. The cool winter air quickly warms upon her entrance. Mokosh is not long after her, pointedly not looking at her. Sasha turns fully and bows to the woman. “Lady Zhiva. Pleasure to see you again.” She bows deeply to Pizamar and then Chors, who both respond in kind, and only then offers Sasha a warm smile. “Ah, Sasha. You are too kind.” “This is Sanura Menmatre, daughter of Bastet, and Þjóðvarður Vindlerson, bogatyr elf-squirrel extraordinaire.” Zhiva nods to each in greeting. Mokosh is silent this whole time, keeping a careful eye on Porenut and Rugievit.

	Dovile -Can we just give them signs? To hang around their necks?-
	Sanura -A sign would clash with my coat-
	ST -Oh, we need those stickers. The ones that say “Hello! My name is..”-
	ST -Except there’s not enough room for all the titles and… relations.-
	Dovile -Okay, stickers, with refrence maps for place mats.-
	ST -Oh, good plan! On paper, and with crayons, so you can draw on them. You know. For note-taking.-
	Dovile -Yes Sasha. We all know you would only take notes.-
	Sanura -as opposed to?-
	ST -… Definitely not mustaches and funny-shaped sunglasses.-
	Sanura -horns and goatees?-
	Dovile -That would be disprespectful.- Dovile says.
	Sanura -fine line-
	Dovile -Respect is made of fine lines, Starbringer.-
	Dovile Sanura maybe have been joking, but Dovile doesn’t seem to be. Her humor appears to be hanging over a deep ocean of touchy solemness.
	ST -Fine lines and curlicues.-
	Dovile -You are trouble.- Dovile says to her brother, humor leaking back in.
	ST -Who me? Never.-

	Ken “Damn, Chors, that sounds uncomfortable. Do I need an operation for that or something?” When introductions commence yet again, Ken scrambles to his feet and gives a polite bow to everyone as Sasha names them.
	Sanura Sanura smiles and dips in a curtsy again to Lady Zhiva, seeing as Lady Pizamar had shown respect clearly she should follow suit. She bows her head lightly to the ‘boys’ who’d joined them. She bites her lower lip and glances at Ken “no more caffeine for you before we go visiting” she murmurs, half in jest.
	Ken Ken sighs, sounding totally put-upon. “Fine, whatever you say, boss-lady. I’ll cut back on the coffee. But do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to find crack in this day and age?” He brightens and turns to the brothers. “Hey, good work on the trees. But there’s easier ways to knock ’em down. I like axes, personally, but…. whatever does if for you, yeah?”
	Sanura Sanura hangs her head a moment at the crack comment. “Mother give me strength.” she sounds a mixture between amused and despairing.

	Dovile -Is he making you nervious?-
	Sanura -Ken you mean? Nono.. if he’s a bit -off- my own.. peculiarities will go unnoticed all the easier"

	ST The two brothers look up at Ken. One licks his lips so as not to smile, and the other looks away, rubbing the back of his neck so as not to be tempted to smile. Mokosh, on the other hand, gives Ken a cease-and-desist sort of glare.
	Ken Ken raises his hands in an I-surrender motion to Mokosh, and sits back down.

	Sanura -I must ask your mother for lessons in giving -the look- -
	ST -Unfortunately, it’s a family secret. If she told you, she’d have to have you killed.-
	Dovile -And she never pays me.- Dovile says, drily.
	Sanura -damn-
	Dovile -Maybe you can get her to tell you as a wedding present, after she sets you up.-
	Sanura wince
	Dovile -I’m sure he’ll be nice.-
	Dovile -Whoever he is.-
	Sanura -oh .. sure.. -
	Sanura -that’s why you’re so eager right?-
	Dovile -I obey my mother’s every wish with acclarity.- Dovile says, in a perfectly serene voice.
	Sanura -I can’t help but wonder what your type is now..-
	ST -Hard to say. They always wind up with broken noses and so skittish for some reason. I have nothing to do with it, of course.-
	Sanura -clearly.. maybe Ken … he seems resilient- she jests
	Dovile -If you run out of topics- Dovile says as an aside, -She would probably like to hear about your small buisness adventure.-

	Sanura Sanura pauses a moment and murmurs as an aside to Ken. “If you -feel- we’ve forgotten something or need something else you could excuse yourself to run and get it?” she offers with a faint sympathetic smile.
	ST Mokosh eases up on her glare and smoothly turns to Pizamar, still pointedly ignoring Zhiva. “Have you been standing this whole time? Please, let’s get you seated. Chors, dear, you come along too.” She begins to usher the music and moon goddesses to their places at the setting. Sasha takes this opportunity to offer a reassuring smile Ken’s way. Pizamar glances at Ken and Sanura, then looks down and begins to allow herself to be ushered away by Mokosh. “Perhaps, being as how they are honored guests, they should sit with the Lord Father’s wife?” Chors suggests. “And his son?” Mokosh pauses and looks at Pizamar. The music goddess nods slightly, and Mokosh turns back to Ken, Sanura, and Sasha. “If it please you, the Lady Pizamar would appreciate it if you joined her.” (Zhiva takes this opportunity to find her own seat, and her boys, including Porevit, who had returned just moments ago, migrate nearer to her.)
	Sanura Sanura straightens a little and smiles graciously. “We are honored Lady” she murmurs softly as she picks up her rather large purse and moves it nearer to where the lady is seated and the takes a place where indicated. She hopes she can find some subject to chat on if needed, feeling nervous in company for the first time in a long while.
	Sanura Sanura casts a grateful glance to Dovile and seems to relax fractionally.
	Ken Sanura’s offer slides off Ken like water off a duck. He tilts his head to one side, looking at her with a tinge of confusion. “Ah… right. I’ll keep that in mind.” He stands back as the gods play musical chairs with the seating arrangements. But once Mokosh pronounces her decision, he nods and grins at her mischeviously. “Lady, you sure do know how to please a man.”
	Sanura Sanura glances over to Ken and prays that doesn’t get taken as a slight.

	Sanura -is he trying to get us killed?-
	Dovile -I know he’s a queer, but I don’t think he goes in for that kind of thing.- Dovile says about the broken knees. Then she adds, -Didn’t you hear? He was raised by a gutter. He can get away with anything.-
	Sanura -Well.. hopefully that holds.. - pause -Yeah.. I don’t think he’d let you be the top either-
	ST -Well, he might let me top. But he really seems to be serious about this Mark Mendez fellow.-
	Sanura -oooh really!- sounding quite pleased to hear such news.
	Dovile Dovile snorts at Sanura, amused at her sudden change of tone, and her enthusasim for other people’s relationships.

	ST Mokosh raises an eyebrow at Ken. “You have no idea, Yochka.” She offers him a narrowed look of mischief and a curl of one side of her lips and then primly begins to arrange the settings to something more suitable.
	Dovile Dovile keeps her face completely flat.
	Sanura Sanura blinks softly and swiftly hides her shock as she smiles to Lady Pizamar. “ah.. so Lady, how have you found the world on your return, I hope you are all recovering well from your difficulties..”
	ST Before they can settle into their seats, however, and before Pizamar can respond, the wind picks up. Leaves and other mulch blow onto the edge of the place setting. A man steps out, not particularly tall and quite broad-bodied, a perpetually dour expression on his face. He’s not far from where Mokosh, Chors, and Pizamar are now—close to the “head” of the runner. The man looks at Pizamar, furrowing his brow. “What are you doing here?” Pizamar’s good humor dies. The harp and violins give way to sudden cacophony, followed by shocked silence. Mokosh’s face goes white, her brow dives, her eyes widen, and everything about her tenses with lividity. The trees creak and groan as their branches grow visibly sharper. “Stribog.” Unlike with the rowdy boys, her tone is stony, forbidding, and very, very quiet. “Let’s talk. Privately.” It’s not a question, or even a suggestion. “Why?” he asks brusquely, hardly seeming to notice Mokosh’s sudden change in attitude. He looks again to Pizamar, then notices Chors, who’s staring at him, wide-eyed, brow crinkled, utterly shocked and horrified. His expression shifts slightly, then darkens, then he looks back to Mokosh. “Fine.” They depart. Pizamar sits, stiffly, trying to keep composed. But her music is utterly disjointed, off-rhythm, starting and stopping and starting and stopping.
	Sanura Sanura gives the faintest of grimaces and then schools her features. She’d reach out to rest a hand on Lady Pizamar’s lightly if it’s not unseemly. “The gentlemen all seem to be in the pink do they not?” she murmurs softly, her tone striving to be calm and reassuring. “Though as lovely as you Ladies all are it’s hard to tell if you’re still recovering as you all seem so gracious and poised already.”
	Ken Ken watches the exchange with Stribog silently, eyes narrowed and expression stony. But once the newcomer has left, he smiles and addresses Pizamar in a comforting tone. “Hey, it’s no wonder he was surprised. I’d be pissed if I thought I got an invite to the asshole party and it was full of sweethearts like you.”

	Dovile Dovile’s laughter cracks out across the link at Ken’s comment, before she shuts her connection down momentarily.
	Dovile A moment later she’s back, the amusement hidden again.
	Sanura Sanura smirks a bit her mental tone one of amusement “that -was- pretty good eh?”
	Dovile -Very delicate.- Dovile agrees in a dry voice. There are certain things one doesn’t say about any god, after all.
	Sanura hmms “it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, very little cursing”
	Dovile -Cussing isn’t the problem.- Dovile starts, after a moment of mild surprise. -It’s about respect.- She pauses, stretching for thoughts. -The Dane is very good at not calling people assholes.-

	Sanura Sanura bites her lips and tries to quell her smirk at Kens comment.
	Dovile Dovile keeps her face perfectly streight and her eyes wandering gently over the company and the quiet, close pines.
	ST From across the other end of the table, Veles’s boys bust up, but quickly compose themselves when they peek at Zhiva’s serene expression (albeit with a not-quite-smile flickering at the very corners of her mouth). Sasha diplomatically turns towards the runner to finish Mokosh’s arrangements, his shoulders shaking slightly. Chors turns away, hiding a little behind her hair. The music starts again and stops again, this time more pronounced than before. A blush overtakes the music goddess. “That wouldn’t—no one would—I mean—” Chors moves a teacup and teapot Pizamar’s direction with the back of her hand, still hiding. The other goddess looks over at it as it moves. “I—um.” Then quickly she reaches for it, still a little flustered. “Tea, Yosha?”
	Ken “Don’t mind if I do.” Ken’s expression is serene and dignified. Nope, no insults here, nuh-uh.
	ST She pours some out for him, and, while she’s at it, begins to pour out tea for everyone else currently gathered around the setting.
	Ken Ken takes the cup when it’s offered, but waits until everyone has some before taking a sip.
	Sanura Sanura shakes her head some and accepts the tea with a gracious nod and murmur of thanks.
	Dovile Dovile waits until her cup is poured, and then casually takes over pouring from the flustered goddess, walking quietly around the table with the massive pot. By the time the pot is empty, all the currently occupied seats have tea. Dovile puts the empty pot back in the basket and returns to her seat.
	Sanura Sanura finds it a bit odd to see Dovile pouring tea.. she’s not sure why but it seems so… social and feminine. Her lips purse a little but she smiles as she peers around for sugar to add to her cup.
	ST Just then a man steps into the clearing, tall, well-built, and with a short-cropped hair and goatee. He’s clean-cut, and his eyes are keen—and, oddly, regardless of what direction one looks upon him, he seems to be facing directly that way. Currently on one arm is a woman, a purple flower (slightly wilted) tucked in her hair, and a daisy chain wound around each ankle. She looks a little sickly pale, and rather subdued. A couple robins and jays flit about her every so often, trilling playfully and lighting on her before taking off again. She carries a teapot in her free hand, which is etched with stylized designs of a four-faced war god atop a horse and bearing nine swords. On the other arm is a different woman, whose full-locked hair shines as if wet and flows like whimsical trickles of water down her shoulders. Chors gently nudges Pizamar, whose music makes hurried, slightly startled notes. “Oh! Ah—welcome, Svantovit, Lada, and Vesna!” Svantovit unwinds himself from the two ladies and offers a bow. “Lady Pizamar, I could not feel more welcome.” He lifts the empty teapot from the basket and then holds a hand out to Lada, who hands him the replacement she’d been holding. “Her idea,” he comments in reference to having brought the unbidden, extra tea, his expression and tone mild. Vesna laughs aloud, and a wan but well-humored smile flickers across Lada’s expression.

	Dovile -Lord Svantovit.- Dovile introduces him quietly. -Lord Svarovich’s second. Bowing would be good.-
	ST -Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you.-

	Sanura Sanura regards the new arrivals curiously and then smiles a little as they’re just in time with more tea. She blows across her own cup and waits for introductions, not wanting to make a faux pas. She does smile at the three and nod a little in greeting previous to any formal introduction that may or may not be incoming.
	Dovile Dovile stands up and bows to the three, starting with Svantovit and giving him the deepest bow. Without drawing attention, she goes back to the basket, picks up the new kettle, and ours the three of them tea.
	Ken Ken hops to his feet and bows to the trio, and glances at Sasha with just a hint of a raised eyebrow to ask what kind of talking is appropriate right now. He doesn’t want to go too far.
	Sanura Sanura was told she’d be introduced so she waits for Sasha’s movement to concert her own rising with it.
	ST Sasha straightens, a grin stretched across his face. He bows to each and moves over, offering Lada a hand. The subdued goddess hesitates, then takes it. Sasha pauses to turn slightly towards those grouped near the front of the picnic setting. “Lord Svantovit, Lady Vesna, and Lady Lada, I would like to introduce the gracious Sanura Menmatre, daughter of Bastet, and Þjóðvarður Vindlerson, the descendent of silver-tongued elves and some very noble-hearted squirrels.” Lada offers each a nod (and Sasha’s joke a polite smile) as they’re introduced, and offers a nod to Dovile as her tea is poured. Sasha then seats her and hands her the tea Dovile poured out for her. Vesna smirks, but after giving everyone a nod briefly turns to Svantovit, motion to the direction Mokosh and Stribog went off in. He gives her a nod, and a smile spreads across her. “Pardon me, I’ll return in a bit,” she says. She gives Svantovit a passing pat on the cheek (which seems to work regardless of what direction he seems to be facing), and Sasha a brief squeeze on the shoulder as she heads off. After this Svantovit heads over, taking Sanura’s hand in his own and gently drawing her closer to him so as to kiss her knuckles.

	Dovile -What is he up too?- Dovile says at Svantovit’s courtious gesture, mildly bemused.
	Sanura -not usual form I take it?-
	ST -On the contrary. Very usual form.-
	Dovile -He’s always up to something.-
	Sanura -ahh one of ‘those’ -
	Dovile -Maybe we are going to lose another tree?- Dovile hazards, flicking an image of the aspen that had fallen where she had almost been sitting when the rowdies arrived. After all, Sanura and Ken had been moved from their seats, right?
	Sanura …. -should I be.. wary? or just aware?-
	Dovile -Just stay where he puts you. You’ll be safe.- Dovile reasures her, bemusement still hiding in her voice.
	Sanura -hmm ok..-
	ST -Hm. I’m imagining something more like… saving someone from hot tea spilling in their laps. Like, from an especially stiff breeze or something.-
	Dovile Dovile grunts at her brother in a sort of non-commital agreement. That sounded as resonable as anything.

	Sanura Sanura smirks a bit at the squirrel thing that’s gonna be a never ending thing isn’t it. She rises when introduced and finds her hand taken as she does. She actually blushes faintly and curtseys since Dovile said a bow was the way to go a curtsey seems good in this case. She addresses the three of them and smiles. “I’m glad to meet you all please help yourselves to the food, I hope you enjoy it” she murmurs.
	ST Svantovit releases Sanura’s hand. “I’m sure I will,” he says. Then heads over to Ken, and takes up his hand in a similarly delicate manner to offer a kiss to his knuckles.
	Sanura Sanura smiles at the gesture to Ken, it was cute but also surprising and a bit amusing given her adherence to gender roles dictated by society. She smiles a bit to Sasha and mouths a thanks for the introduction.
	Ken He’s still smiling at how cute Sanura is when she’s blushing when Svantovit changes targets. Ken just kinda stares at him for a moment, too flustered to respond. Finally he decides to just… skip over it. “Hey Sasha. You and Chors better work this out: first it’s a bogatyr heart, then it’s a noble heart….”

	Dovile Dovile snorts in shock. -He flustered the Dane?- Amusement and just a bit of awe.
	Sanura Sanura is a bit giggly over that

	Sanura Sanura smirks faintly at Ken as if to say ‘ha you too ;)’ She picks up her tea and sips at it as she regards the interesting crew of the family.
	ST Svantovit releases Ken’s hand, not seeming to mind terribly that Ken ignored his gesture. “Bogatyr are the noblest of the knights of Rus,” Sasha points out, keeping a straight face. “So we’re both basically saying the same thing. Chors is just more eloquent than I.” “Don’t despair, Dobrozhe,” says Svantovit. “If you practiced a whole lifetime you could get to be half as eloquent as our lady Chors.” This time it’s Chors’s turn to blush. She quickly picks up her tea and saucer, to attempt to hide it behind a sip.
	Ken “Oh, that explains it. You just had to pull out those damn vocabulary words, huh?” Ken shakes his head disparagingly. “What’s next? Forks?”
	ST “I apologize—I don’t know how to break this to you gently, Yosha, but we’ve moved beyond forks to knives and spoons,” Sasha points out. “Oooh. You’d better not mention the salad forks,” Svantovit says in a sotto voice to Sasha. The trilling flute-laugh rises up from Pizamar again.
	Sanura Sanura smiles and then giggles a little, the sound of Pizamar’s laugh is delightful
	Ken “Mother-fucker.” Ken gives them a deer in the headlights look. “Spoons? Salad forks? I don’t know if I can take this.”
	Sanura Sanura winces softly at that profanity and sighs a little “no proper tea parties for you sir” she murmurs
	Ken “Good. Save me from all those fucking ‘utensils.’ Give a poor bastard a heart attack with those things, why don’t you?” He eyes the multiple pieces of silverware like one might look at a nest of rattlesnakes.
	Sanura Sanura shakes her head softly but then smirks. “I suppose I shouldn’t expound upon olive forks?”

	Dovile -Did you actually bring olive forks?- Dovile asks, suddenly suspicious.
	Sanura Sanura pauses and her nose wrinkles gently “ew .. olives”
	Dovile -Okay, good.- Dovile says, firm agreement hiding releif.

	Sanura Sanura’s nose wrinkles a bit
	Ken There’s the tiniest pause from Ken while he tries to remember enough fancy-Russian vocabulary to figure out ‘expound.’
	Ken “I dunno. Expounding them seems like the safest bet.”
	ST “Oh, now you’ve done it,” Sasha chides Svantovit. Chors replaces the cup on the saucer and open her mouth to speak—but then, storming past them is Stribog, a dark look on his face. He passes behind those conversing, and with his passing leaves and mulch whirl violently around him. A gust of wind blasts the group, rattling the teacups very noisily and sending a few drops of tea splashing all over. A fair bit of Chors’s still-steaming tea splashes out, but it luckily doesn’t make it past the saucer since Sanura is blocking the brunt of the gust. Stribog, not seeming to notice, takes a place at the far end of the place setting, hunched over and seething to himself. Without skipping a beat Svantovit shrugs in exaggerated innocent abashment and makes as if to covertly slip off to his seat, easing into it without having to be shown where he’d be sitting.

	Dovile -Ah.- Dovile says, as Stribog storms past, spilling tea.
	Dovile -You can sit now.- She lets Sanura know.
	ST -Aww, I should’ve put some cash on that bet!-
	Dovile -Luck guess.- Dovile chides. -I’ll get you next time.-

Sanura
Sanura gives a faint squeak as her skirt flairs up a bit but nothing to bad. She glances to Stribog and puts on a bright smile. “So glad you could join us, tea is served and please help yourself to the food, Lord.” She meanwhile retakes her seat and sips at her tea again.

	Dovile -See, you don’t need me at all.- Dovile says, a mild complement at Sanura’s deft politeness.
	Sanura -ah but I’ll always need you covering my six-
	ST -Careful now. She’ll do it.-
	Dovile Dovile stays quiet, although not in an unfreindly way.

	Dovile Dovile gets up queitly and poors Stribog some tea, shooting Ken a dark, warning glare on her way over.
	Ken Ken doffs his hat and smiles at Stribog with just a little too much teeth to be entirely friendly. When he catches Dovile’s glare, Ken carefully does not say what he’d been about to say.
	ST Stribog offers Dovile a grunt which could maybe be loosely interpreted as gratitude, and gives Sanura a flat look. He makes no motion to actually drink the tea or eat the food, however. At his renewed presence, however, the humorous mood deflates. Pizamar, avoiding looking at Stribog, looks over to Svantovit and asks, “Um… how many more are we expecting?” “Not much longer now, Lady Pizamar—and with such good company that time will pass even faster,” he says, offering a wink in Sanura’s and Ken’s general direction. Then he brightens and adds, “By the way, I recommend the apple cake. Be sure you get some as soon as it’s seemly.” Oddly, the gentlegod doesn’t appear to have actually touched any of the food.
	Sanura Sanura smirks faintly at the teasing wink and sips her tea a little more. “I hope everything that should be warm stays warm” She murmurs with a faint tinge of worry.

	Dovile -Don’t worry. It will be soon.-
	Dovile Dovile reasures Sanura as she begins to fret about the food.
	Sanura -ah ok good..-

	Ken “Don’t worry.” Ken gives her a wink. “If it starts getting cold Sasha can sit on it. He offered.”
	Sanura Sanura wrinkles her nose to that comment and shakes her head “ahhh no thanks”
	ST Sure enough, once the conversation gets going again (with some encouragement from Chors and Svantovit), the time passes quickly and more gods flock to the picnic setting. Mokosh and Vesna return, chatting away merrily as is Mokosh hadn’t been livid mere moments before. The boy-god Myesyats arrives, one hand in each of his radiant wives’. The bejeweled Kovlad and Runa arrive together with Rod, and all are greeted and fussed over expansively by Mokosh. Smert isn’t there one moment and then is there the next, Jarilo in tow. Wilted, dead flowers cover her from head to toe. It’s hard to tell just how amused or unamused she is when she brings him to Morena, but judging by how she drops him at the other death goddess’s feet, one can make a safe guess. The places fill and the buzz of commotion fills the air as dozens of conversations are held by dozens of people. The last to arrive is Radegast in his glimmering starry cloak, shadowed silently by Lena. He holds a hand out to the girl, who tenses and hesitates before she takes it, and after introductions and greetings have been exchanged he seats her before seating himself. Chors watches the whole thing from behind her teacup. There are still some unoccupied places, still honoring those who were not found among the fallen stars. The head of the table is especially noticeable in its emptiness—and it is with some (albeit stifled) consternation that Pizamar calls everyone to order and prompts Sanura and Ken, as the hosts of the picnic, to begin the toasting.
	Dovile Before the toasting begins, Dovile takes the dog bowl from Lena and quietly goes over to the basket. She fills the bowl and slips off into the woods, before coming back just as quietly and slipping back into her seat.

	ST -Ah… it’d be advisable to toast Svarozhich first and foremost.-
	Dovile - I messed that up once. Very embarassing.- Dovile says lightly.
	ST -Yes, but that could’ve happened to anyone. And you managed a very smooth recovery if I recall, Doviluze.-
	Dovile -Many thanks to you. Still, Svarozhich first.-

	Sanura Sanura smiles and bends her head towards the Lady “thank you, Lady.” she takes a breath and turns her head to those around them. “First I’d like to thank you all for coming to share in this humble meal and our company. I want to take this moment to acknowledge those who we still must find.. especially the Great Father of your family, who regrettably was not recovered when we all met. I hope that we will soon see him among you hale and hearty. Either through his own talents or with our help if we may offer it. We’re so thankful to have all of you with us and it’s our hope that not only will you all grow in health and happiness but that an alliance and perhaps friendship can blossom from the storms and chaos that surround us and our common endeavors to improve the world around us. Thank you once again for your attendance.. and patience with my ramblings. Perhaps all I need have said was to Lord Svarozhich and his swift and safe return to the bosom of family” She raises her glass towards the head of the table with a an air of respect and her voice laced with tones of hope.
	ST A myriad of glasses clink a myriad of times, the only noise to break the reverent silence. And then the glasses are drained, and shortly thereafter drinks are passed around to be refilled.
	Ken Once the drinks have been refilled, Ken stands and raises his glass toward Pizamar. “And to the lovely lady of the house—long may we dance to her music.”
	Sanura Sanura raises her glass to the Lady and gives a faint bow of her head in respect before draining her glass.
	ST A second time the glasses are emptied, and a second time refilled. Pizamar tilts her chin down and offers Ken a slight, warm smile during a spare moment.
	Ken Ken stays standing, and as glasses are refilled he raises his slightly once more. This time, he speaks solemnly. “Last, but longest in our hearts: to those whose ships are yet at sea. May we meet again in safe harbors.”
	Sanura Sanura takes a breath and nods her head softly as she gives a little sigh, saluting with the glass and drinking.
	Dovile Dovile toasts along with the rest, eyes down and face quiet.
	ST This third toast is shared in solemnity, and glasses are refilled once more… and then the food starts being passed around from hand to hand. The picnic begins, and conversation starts anew.
	Sanura Sanura takes a deep cleansing breath and attempts to join the conversations where it’s appropriate. Waiting for Sasha or Dovile to let her know when it is proper to give the gifts.

	Dovile Dovile goes flat for a few moments, like a light moving away from camp.
	Dovile Dovile comes back. -There, see? Now you just have to make polite conversation for a few hours. No problem, right?- The irony is loud in her voice. Everyone knows the polite conversatioin is the worst part.
	Dovile -Gifts at the end.- Dovile clarifies, catching Sanura’s almost nervious glance toward her basket. -When the drinking really starts.-
	Sanura -chuckles- so when they’re all too sauced to know which is which?
	Dovile -No, right before then. Good idea though.-
	ST -Is this Moe’s vodka, then?-
	Sanura “shouldn’t I have?”
	ST -No, I can think of few other fitting tributes in this case. It’s just good to know that I should be keeping track of how many I have.-
	Dovile -It’ll be alright.- Dovile says, drily.
	Sanura -oh dear-

	Ken Ken leans over to Lena and says quietly (but not sneakily), “Thank you for the flower, Kria min. It brightened my day.”
	ST Lena gives Ken a very small smile, but doesn’t look at him. “Sorry,” she says, almost definitely referring to how she didn’t talk to him in person prior to now.
	Ken He gives a small but firm shake of the head. “You can say sorry if you want, Lilla, but you don’t need to say it for my sake.”
	ST The girl looks up at him, staring a moment, then looks back down. Then she serves up some fatayer on Ken’s plate, by way of a very oblique and somewhat unclear (but probably positive) response.
	Ken Ken smiles, and reciprocates by putting some moussaka on Lena’s dish before taking an appreciative bite from his own. “Hey. You ever play the spoons?” Ken raises his eyebrows in that inviting, we’re-about-to-almost-break-the-rules way.
	ST Lena looks up at him again, puzzled at first. But then she sees his look and warms to the idea. “No…” It’s not a shut-down kind of no—quite the opposite, in fact.
	ST (Off somewhere down the setting, Runa brings a wineglass to her lips. Kovlad watches her for a moment, then crosses his eyes and makes funny face. Runa catches this and snorts into laughter, quickly bringing a hand up to conceal her face. He laughs and moves her glass out of the way and offers her a napkin, which she accepts after giving him a playfully wrathful shove.)
	Sanura Sanura sips the tea and nibbles on the food but doesn’t eat very much, leaving it for those she’d brought it for.
	Ken Ken grins. “Well damn… time to fix that!” He proceeds to steal the spoons from every place setting within reach, and holds out a pair of spoons each to Lena, Sanura and Pizamar. Before Sanura can protest he gives her a stern look and says, “You do wanna play the spoons. Right?” For himself, he grabs the two spoons that were already next to his teacup. Luckily someone left a spare there.
	Dovile Dovile is watching her cousins, and clearly paying no attention at all to any sort of buisness with spoons.
	Sanura Sanura blinks a few times.. looking from the spoons to Ken and back. She clears her throat. “Um… sure?” she smiles faintly and looks quite uncertain.
	Ken Ken ‘whispers’ to sanura, loud enough for all to hear, “You’d better. If you’re doing it they’ll be too busy watching you to care how shitty we sound.”
	Sanura Sanura quirks a brow and examines the spoons and then looks to Ken. “Well then.. you’d probably better show me how to do this” she responds with a faint shake of her head. Dear Gods what was she doing.
	ST Pizamar, a little stunned (her music pausing briefly), stares at the spoons offered to her. But after Ken offers his… very unique compliment/encouragement (as well as a small laugh from Chors), her music swells a little warmly and she accepts them.
	Ken Ken nods and looks around the group, then faces Lena. He takes on a grandfatherly, teacherish tone. “Okay. Now. First you hold them like this.” Ken grabs the silverware in one hand and cups his other around the spoony ends of the spoons, positioning them just over his knee. “Then you whack the shit out of them and hope it sounds good.” He does so. The result is… cacophonous.
	ST Conversation begins to die among those around the spoon performance as deities look over to see WTF is going on.
	Sanura Sanura watches Kens demonstration and slowly tilts her head. “Ah well.. I think um.. maybe a beat?” she considers quietly as she tentatively taps the spoons to see what sort of sounds it might make.
	Ken “Fuck beats. This is contemporary.” Ken takes on an over the top haughty nose-in-the-air pose.
	Sanura Sanura snirks softly.
	ST Pizamar watches Ken for a moment, intent, not seeming to notice the odd looks from the others. Then she positions the spoons in her hand similarly and begins tapping out a simple, steady beat with them to underscore Ken’s… symphony. It doesn’t take long for her to pause, adjust her grip, and then start on more elaborate beats. Lena stares at the music goddess’s hands for a moment. Pizamar notices, then, without skipping a beat, she shifts, adjusting her positioning and hands for Lena and Sanura to see. The girl adjusts her own grip and begins on the simple beats that Pizamar started with.
	Sanura Sanura watches the demonstration of the Lady and feels less… silly actually. She’d begin to try and do something a bit in accent to the Lady’s beat but who’s to say how that turns out.
	Dovile Dovile leans back and pulls out a ciggarette, offering one to her mother and anyone else who looks interested.
	ST Sasha watches the spoons performance, amused at first then really getting into it, clapping to offer his own beat.
	Ken It’s not that Ken doesn’t try to make it sound nice. It’s just that when he inevitably fails he doesn’t seem at all disappointed. The fun part is whacking things with spoons, music is just a pleasant side effect. He pauses long enough to accept and light a cigarette from dovile, and then decides what the “symphony” really needs is more variety. So he uses his spoons as drumsticks on a soup tureen.

	Dovile -He’s never at a loss, is he?- Mild amusement.
	Sanura -Apparently not…-
	ST -He’s bloody brilliant.-
	Dovile -…-
	Dovile -I suppose you could say it that way.-

	Sanura Sanura watches Ken’s obvious enjoyment and chuckles softly as the impromptu performance seems to go over rather well. She was rather astonished something such as this would be acceptable.
	ST Svantovit, who’d been messing around with the seed-filled teapot, plugs the spout with his finger and begins to shake it, to add his own accompaniment. And then Lena laughs. Like, out loud. A peal of giggling, which causes her to abandon the spoon-playing once she doubles over. The laughter spreads to Sasha, and then to Chors, who is trying to hide it behind her hand, and then to Pizamar, who manages to smoothly keeps playing, and to Mokosh, who manages to keep herself the most composed by far… and so on.
	Dovile Dovile smiles and, while everyone is distracted, bows from her seat to Svantovit.
	Ken Ken can’t help laughing too, and can’t manage to even keep up a semblance of spoontastic drumming while he’s laughing his head off.
	Sanura Sanura looks shocked and then though she doesn’t laugh she does smile brilliantly, joyful to hear the unrestrained laughed of the young girl. She finds her smile lingering as she looks around the grouping of Gods and Goddesses. This was pretty great actually, a few rough patches of course but what else might one expect.
	Sanura As the party continues on Sanura would rise and walk to each of the various Gods and Goddesses, to Dovile and Sasha and Lena as well giving them each ‘handkerchiefs’ that would she hoped match their personal styles and tastes, from what she’d been able to glean. With each little gift she murmurs a quiet, sincere thanks for their attendance and company at the gathering.
	Dovile Dovile accepts hers with a quiet nod of thanks and a blank face, and slips quietly away from the party and back out into the woods.

Dovile and Mokosits

	ST At some point through this procession of deities, Mokosits quietly, uncertainly pauses at the edge of the clearing, lifting his chin to scent the wind. He draws a little closer and counts the place settings with his eyes, then draws himself up and continues forward, his boots padding covertly but the rest of him poised with forced confidence put forth like armor. He doesn’t get very far into the clearing however—though few notice his arrival, Stribog is among them. He gives Mokosits such a hostile, almost palpable glare that the fellow slows, and changes direction, pulling up the collar of his coat to hide his face and his furred hat over his brow to conceal his arrival and subsequent departure.
	Dovile After a moment Dovile slips off with food to trace after her stealthy half -brother.
	ST She finds him a few moments later when he sits beneath the shadows of a pine tree in the form of a black-brown wolf, gazing at her directly with his bright yellow eyes. A bit of snow dusts his fur, and his ears turn this way and that in slight agitation, belying his otherwise stillness.
	Dovile Dovile crouches down near him and puts the bowl down. “Dinner?” She asks. There isn’t really a lot to say, or at least not a lot that can actually be said.
	ST He touches his nose lightly to the contents of the bowl and then looks up at Dovile again, staring at her steadily. His ears settle and he flicks his tail around himself in gratitude. Then one of his ears turns back as he considers. After a moment he says, in the language of wolves, Please don’t mention any of this to Mother.
	Dovile Of couse. Dovile says wrily. She sits for a moment or two, then asks, Anything else I can get for you?
	ST He pauses, both his ears turned back as he thinks a moment. After the food and honors… I would like to breathe some leafsmoke. If you have any to spare for me. The words are clumsy in wolf-speech, but the meaning gets across regardless.
	Dovile Dovile gives him an almost smile and pulls out her stash of ciggarettes. They’re in a ziplock again, the tin sitting where it is safe inside their treehouse. The bag is very full. There’s plenty. I’ll bring brand-boy.
	ST Mokosits’s ears perk forward and his tail wags slightly, cheered. My haunches will stay here.
	Dovile Dovile nods at him and slips away.
	ST -he looks really soft…- Lena puts forth shyly after a moment.
	Dovile -Yes.- Dovile says. -You can come too. Maybe you can charm him into letting you pet him.-
	Dovile -Bring eggs. He likes those.-
	ST -will that really work… ?- -Absolutely! Especially if you do it. He’s soft on the inside too, you know.- -everyone’s soft on the inside, sashukas.-
	Dovile -They are when Sasha’s around.-
	Dovile -Don’t forget the eggs.-
	ST -thanks. got them.-
	ST Mokosits is where he said he’d be, lying curled up in the snow, head resting on his paws. His ears perk forward long before Dovile’s in eyeshot, and he lifts his head after she comes into view. The dog bowl is clean, and some snow dusts his chin, giving him the appearance of having a short white goatee.
	Dovile Dovile comes around the corner with a bottle and her bag of ciggarettes. He’s a bit behind. Dovile says, sitting next to her brother after pinging Sasha and Lena for their locations. Autumn Dream is coming too.
	ST Mokosits tilts his head at Dovile when she mentions Autumn Dream, his ears tilted forward. He rises, to sitting—and when he’s fully upright, he’s back in human form, robed in his fur coat and hat. “Why?” he asks, drawing a knee towards himself and resting an arm on it. It’s a question posed with unguarded curiosity, and a tinge of surprise.
	Dovile Dovile shrugs, putting the bag down open side up on the snow. “She likes us, and she wanted to meet you.” Dovile sets the bottle down. “That’s alright?” She asks, just to be sure.
	ST He pauses, thinking, and then nods. “I’d like to meet her.” He looks over at Dovile, offering a wry half-smile. “Us lawbreakers should stick together.” His phrasing is delicate, to make the nature of the humor less ugly and bitter. Mokosits pauses, winces, and lifts his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “Ah… that was a terrible joke. Sasha’s coming, you said? Good. You think she’d prefer me as a wolf? I’m cuter as a wolf.”
	Dovile Dovile gives him an answering half-smile at the ‘joke’. “Can you smoke as a wolf?” She asks dryly, after a moment has passed.
	ST Lena draws back, going quiet in the connection. Sasha pauses. -Houston to Yesute krrssssht come in, Yesute.- She flickers in, just at the very edge. -he’s right. neither of us are supposed… were allowed to be born.- It’s a statement, thoughtful, without pain. -But he has a place now.- -i know. i’m okay, sashukas. but he’s lonely.- Sasha pauses. -Yeah. Yeah, he is.- “Good point.” Mokosits motions to Dovile in concession. He sighs in faux exasperation, sending up a cloud of breath, then half-smiles again and reaches for a cig.
	Dovile “It’s a pity.” Dovile says, with a streight face. “You are cuter as a wolf.” After a beat she lets the humor back and nudges the bag toward him, taking one for herself.
	ST Mokosits chuckles at this, taking a cig and handing her the bag when he’s finished. “Eh. Compromise.” He fiddles with the cig for a bit. “I’ll smoke, and if I haven’t scared her off by then I’ll go wolf.” He looks up at the trees, listening for a moment at Sasha’s and Lena’s footsteps crunching in the snow, gently smelling their rain-scents.
	Dovile Dovile nods. That sounds reasonable. She leans back against a tree and waits.
	ST Soon enough Sasha and Lena arrive. Mokosits perks up and even brightens a little. Then he sets his cig on a nearby rock, rises, and offers a deep bow to Lena, complete with the proper hand motions—which most everyone else forgoes. It is, after all, a relic of a bygone era. “Holy Yesen, I am Mokosits, son of mos—err, revered Mokosh, and offer humble greetings.” Lena watches him for a moment, wordlessly acknowledging him. After that he straightens and offers a similar, slightly less decorated bow to Sasha. “Sash—err, Dobrozhe.” “Eh, Sasha’s fine. I don’t know this Dobrozhe fellow yet.” He holds out a hand. Mokosits offers Sasha a wry smile and inclines his head as he clasps Sasha’s hand companionably. “Good to see you again. But only because I need you to light my cigarette, you understand. Not like I actually like you or anything.” He turns to pick up the cig, which Sasha obligingly lights, with a grin.
	Dovile Dovile snorts at them, not bothering to get up, and kicks a bit more snow away from the bag so that they have a dryish place to sit. She gives Lena a nod and holds how her cig to Sasha.
	ST Mokosits drapes his coat over his former seating and offers the placement to Lena. She watches him for a moment. He looks around a bit, uncomfortable. “I… ah… figured you’d prefer not to have a numb tushka, Holy Yesen. But I can take the coat back if you ah… prefer being cold.” She eases and, after another moment, sits. “Wow, you’re warm.” “Thanks… I think.” Lena doesn’t look at him. “Not as warm as Sashukas, though…” Despite her deadpan, it’s clear she’s teasing. Mokosits eyes her a moment, then relaxes a little and says, “Yes, well, that’s because Sasha is full of hot air.” Sasha crosses his arms. “Hey now! That’s only true after too many beans!”
	Dovile Dovile takes her lit cigarette and takes a long drag, savoring the taste of Benji’s tobbacco and the smell of fresh snow and pine neddless. She pulls her rifle around on to her lap. “Sit.” Dovile says to her brothers. “You are both too tall.”
	ST Mokosits crouches right there, almost without a second thought. The second thought comes after he’s seated, and he makes a slightly disgruntled face at himself before taking a drag. Sasha obliges his sister as well, but on his own time. The snow evaporates beneath him, so that by the time he’s seated he has a dry place to sit. “That picnic sounded like a great time,” Mokosits says. “Laughter and… I think that was spoons… ?” Lena starts giggling again, still tickled by what had happened. Mokosits smiles a little. “Yeah, that’s about right, sans the spoons and the rest of it. So… is this to be a reenactment, then?” he teases the girl goddess, tentatively. She’s too overcome by humor to respond. Sasha starts laughing, too, just by proxy.
	Dovile “It was the Dane.” Dovile says, putting some over done disgruntled into her voice. She looks over at her collpased siblings. “He got bored and decided we needed an orchistra.” After the inetial attempt at a ‘prim’ impression, she gives up and breifly describes their dinner.
	ST Mokosits’s smile becomes a grin becomes a laugh, cigarette smoke puffing from his mouth. “Lunch and what sounds like quite a show. Ahhh…. too bad I missed it.” His manner fades a little to bittersweetness. “If you turn into a wolf and whine and look pathetic enough, they’ll have to let you come next time,” Lena suggests. Mokosits looks at her appraisingly. “Now I see who’s the brains of this whole operation,” he says, motioning with an open hand to encompass Dovile, Sasha, and Lena. Then he chuckles and taps his forehead with his palm. “I can’t help but feel like I should’ve thought of that before. Maybe I ought to…” He pauses, drawing back from saying something that he didn’t mean that might turn out to be dangerous. “If I didn’t love my mother so much, I would throw in my lot with you, Yesen.” “I think you stole some of Sasha’s hot air,” Lena retorts.
	Dovile “It’s okay.” Dovile says, taking a drag. “We won’t tell.” She’s kidding. Probably.
	ST “Hardly matters. I would.” Mokosits offers a wry smile. “Mamochka has that tone of hers—you know the one—makes me confess every time. Everything, just to be safe. One time I even told her about that one cookie I stole when I was three. I was a man of thirty at the time.” He gives Lena a warning look. “You watch out for that. She’s been working on it for millennia, no doubt.” Lena nods with as much gravity as she can muster—ruined by a smile flickering at the corner of her lips.
	Dovile Dovile lets another smile twitch out and then starts pulling apart her rifle, pulling out her cleaning things almost absently.
	Dovile “It’s the pitch.” Dovile says. “The price for sensitive ears.”
	ST Mokosits sucks in air through his teeth and doesn’t reply, moving on to sucking his lips in to make it clear that he’s not going to answer. “Explains why it doesn’t work on me,” Sasha adds. “She hasn’t ever used it on you, Sasha.” Mokosits points out, motioning to Sasha with his be-cigaretted fingers. “You’re the favorite.” He thinks twice. “Err… rather, you would be if… ah… favorites were… a thing… that existed. Which they don’t.”
	Dovile Dovile snorts, but lets it lie. This conversation is fraught with pits, and she is not in her best pit-dodging shape. “Hunting been getting better?” She says, after a moment, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth to ask.
	ST “My hunting’s getting better," Mokosits replies. “I think I’ve moved from ‘hopeless’ to ‘pathetic.’ I’d invite you to join me, but I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged to be embarrassed on my behalf.” He breathes in some more smoke and takes a bit more of the serious air. “The game has been getting a little more plentiful. But not very active. The sun guides them out of their dens.” He looks up into the sky, sending the rest of the smoke in that direction. Sasha’s demeanor dims a little, grows subdued. He fidgets somewhat, thoughtful.
	Dovile Dovile looks at her younger brother for a moment, like she’s asigining the silence to him.
	ST He feels her eyes on him and looks up, then he looks to Mokosits. “Ah… been keeping busy?” Mokosits shrugs. “Been trying.” He lifts his hat and runs his hand through his hair. “Helping out here and there. Mostly with Mamochka’s trees. And with keeping Jarilo away.” He grins at the triad. “It’s fun to growl at Jarilo. Especially when it’s allowed.” He lets out a faux wistful sigh. “But now it sounds like that’ll have to wait until next year.” His gaze drops and he tugs at his gloves a little, once more growing a little more serious. “I mean, I have more to do than I ever did guarding Peklo, but… it feels less.” He taps out some ash. “Having a purpose… fills all that space, I guess.”
	Dovile Dovile grunts in agreement. “Nothing like being busy with nothing to do.” She says, remembering ten years waiting for who-knows-what.
	Dovile -We need your sun back.- Dovile thinks, feeling the empty space above them. -I’ll ask the earth.-
	ST -Okay.- Sasha’s thought, though firm, is quiet. He feels the weight of the implications closing in on him, and he squares himself to hold it all up. Mokosits nods, then looks sidelong at Dovile. “Any tips?”
	Dovile Dovile frowns, looking thoughtfully at her disasembled rifle. After a moment she shakes her head. “Found people to wait with.” She takes another drag. Dovile sends the feeling of invitation, and a qestion with it, to Lena and Sasha. They’d find something for him to do, once they’d sorted out what was going on. Until then, how did everyone feel about inviting him to hang around occasonally?
	ST Mokosits stares at his thoughts, which are somewhere very far away. After a couple moments of silence, Lena hands a bundled handkerchief over to Mokosits. Slightly startled, he eyes it, then eyes her. Then he accepts the bundle and opens it. A slight smile grows as he unveils a cluster of already-peeled hardboiled eggs. Sasha’s grin grows as these events unfold. He lets that answer for him. “Alright. Well. Sounds like pretty solid advice.” He bites into an egg, and then speaks around it carefully. “But only because there are apparently eggs and cigarettes involved.”
	Dovile “Always.” Dovile assures him, as she starts to reasemble the rifle.

Campaign of the Month: February 2017

God-Touched

In which the Children of the Lost Gods sup with the Bogovi

Dovile and Mokosits

Comments

March 2026

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