With his eyes closed, the smell of the fire transported him back to the centuries of war, death and destruction. When Týr first arrived to the city he had foolishly hoped to leave this nightmare behind, but it seemed that the smell of death would always linger in the air, no matter how much time passed. Finally, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times, as if that would be enough to blot out the scene before him.

Stood before the high pyre and dappled crown to foot in firelight, she looks more a thing of myth— lost to time and legend— than woman; she, ancient, powerful, daughter of the forest— silvan, haunting, beautiful. she, who has prowled the dark lands of Skellige and beyond; bloodless, sacred lass of the dark groves and the night that gathers in its throat, timeless, hallowed rites and magics; she stands tall and proud, now, mouth slicked crimson, and the sun in her eyes; her disapproval's choking her. There is power, too, in her air of stillness: she might have been a silvan creature, something ancient and terrible come to rest in Novigrad.

The fire-glare whitens all the air about her as with a sort of God-presence, and as the flame rises, it gleams in her face— hard with all her dark fury.

❛ fools.  ❜ the words drip from her mouth— a furious ocean— for all who care to hear, ❛ Praying for help from the gods who have turned their backs on them not once but thrice. ❜

the flames had consumed and taken. taken so much- lives and homes. flames that brought flickering nightmares back to her. the goddess stood among the ashes of her home here-- the last place she could feel at peace. the heart saddened as eyes flickered towards the place that a lovely couple once resided-- a couple that she had brought together. hands trembled as they clasped together in front of her. where was she to go now? back to the forests to live in seclusion once more? the sound of nature always did calm her - welcome her.

"Would you like to repeat that again?" Loki asked in a hiss as he took a slow step toward the boat captain. His dark leather boots pressed against the old, worn, wood of the docks. Blue waters swelled into white-capped waves as the sky blew icy winds into shore. "The free city of Novigrad is now locked?" He questioned as if he was daring the man to agree with him. Rarely did Loki keep up with the humans of this city. Speeches, announcements, rules- It was all drivel. Men telling gods how to act was damn near disgusting. The thought of it alone made acid sting his throat. Before the captain could speak Loki grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in nice and close. "I have work elsewhere, and I bought myself a seat on this boat to get that work done." He ground out his words as if they alone could hurt this fool. "I suggest you get moving or reimburse my ride and my wages lost or-" He spin them both and shoved the captain's heels to the edge of the dock, holding him by the front of his shirt so he would not go plummeting into the cold waters below. "Pary to the gods you don't freeze before making it to shore."

It was unsettling to see how something so pure could be tarnished by those with alternative agendas. As a child, Amara found comfort in her family's modest celebration of Imbaelk – the flames of rebirth that were followed by the blossoming of wildflowers all around their home. But now, the sacred time lent itself to manipulating the masses into blind faith and fire that sought not to wash away the darkness of winter but instead all the light and magic from the world. To eliminate chaos – hers included.

The tavern had also been especially busy, filled with townsfolk, countrymen and followers of the Eternal Flame all alike raising their tankards in cheerful glee and singing songs that became muddled and mumbled as the night went on. Amara was relieved when the crowd died down and the last of the customers were on their way out. She had picked up on some important information on recruitment for the Eternal Flame, but not enough that made her current labors any more favorable.

they are watching from afar, their eyes hardened to what is before them, but still a terror erupts, inflames and burns at her skin in the way the fire licks the bones of those below. what is done in the name of the gods has shaken her to the core.

her return to novigrad was to be one of relief, of comfort. months away tracking a particularly tricky bounty had led to miles of discomfort, cold and a homesickness they hadn't thought possible. to find the eternal flame's obsession having escalated so... something in freya is disgusted, and she has seen her fair share of bloodshed. "what has happened?" a whisper, to no one in particular, the fire reflecting in the grey of her gaze. "surely they do not think that this is the will of the gods."