@ignatiius
The tray in her hands bore fewer things than it had the first time she had brought it out, but that was less the result of a waning generosity, and more the result of having learned from what was left when she collected it in the middle of the day.
There was a small handful of fresh cloudberries from her garden, because they wouldnāt grow naturally in this area, her best homemade granola and honey, and a delicacy she had come to suspect that the whatever-it-was-living-in-her-storage-shed likedāsugared violets and rose petals, which, unlike other things, were usually all gone when she came back. She had found out early that meat would not be touched. Loki was still unsure whether it was some form of draugr or vƦttr or maybe even fae that had taken up residence, but one thing seemed clear to her: if it was on her land then it was technically a part of her household, and being the hausahallr, she had a duty to feed it.
Loki hummed quietly as she came down the path and finally to the quaint little shed, then kneeled down and set the tray in front of the door before she herself sat, the morning dew dampening her clothes just a little. She reached for the door, but did not open it; three slow and precisely measured taps on the wood, and she said carefully,Ā āI have breakfast, friend, if youāre not still sleeping. Would you like me to leave so you can eat?ā
It was formal, but it was the way she had learnedāthe unknown had to be approached with respect, asked permission for things, even by gods. She waited for the sound of the wood being rapped back; once-for-yes and twice-for-no had seemed to be the maxim. Loki hoped it was not asleep, or else absent. Even with the limited communication method, she liked theĀ āconversationsā they sometimes had; as with all unseen things, she felt as though she could confide in it a little more than other people.














