kore_logs | 'Ere the world ❆

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'Ere the world ❆

Who: Meja & you (open)
When: Day 115
What: Magic, plants, attempts at being scholarly.
Where: The community garden, or thereabouts.

Initially, she ventures out to the garden at night — magic can occupy her time when everyone is asleep. Meja brings her notebook with her, along with a blanket to ensure it stays dry and a sack full of stones. She's been writing down everything she can remember from her teachings with Fenrir, even basic rules and exercises. Magic is fickle, her teacher had informed her, and you must not give it a chance to bite.

That had mattered more when she'd been mortal, but still. It was a good thing to keep in mind, especially in terms of damaging her surroundings on accident.

She can be found at the garden in early and late morning, with her hood over her head and a collection of flat stones at her feet, a throwing dagger in hand. The Asgardian steel won't bend, won't break, and so whittling a single rune into each stone isn't difficult. Just time-consuming. A handful of stones are finished, sitting next to her notebook, but she hasn't started her experiments yet. A few more stones first. There's a light mist in the air that only goes a few feet away from the garden itself, something to give the plants a boost at the time of day that they drink the most. And every so often, her gloves glint and glow, the physical sign of the conditions she's maintaining.

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Her dagger, not to mention her inherent strength as a Valkyrie, make quick work of the second half of the rune, cutting the surface like butter. In fact, it almost comes away as a whole piece of stone. She works at the edges of it, to make its shape as perfect as she can.

"I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world. If I could replicate the process, it might even be beneficial." Meja grins — which grows even a shade brighter as she realizes that she finally has enough carved runes to work with. "It's too bad that my mentor wasn't kidnapped along with me. It's been..." She has to think. "Probably two hundred years since I was able to put time toward magic."

"It would smell nice, too. Counteract the kelp." He watches her work with the dagger, making note not to tempt her to use it on him. Theoretically, only an angel blade should hurt an angel, but that's impressive.

"I suppose it might deplete the soil, though. There's never an easy way out." He tilts his head. "I know one isn't supposed to ask a lady her age, but I'm curious now."

Meja laughs quietly. She still remembers her age. Many of the older Valkyrie stop keeping track, and many of them start to act as though they were never human at all. While she may, one day, decide not to bother with the numbers, she hopes that she never gets to be old enough for the latter.

"Don't worry, I don't offend easily. I was reborn about seven hundred years ago, which makes me seven hundred and twenty-six." Her grin doesn't fade. "You'd probably have to take the lady issue up with my superior. I'm certain that ladies are supposed to follow the rules, most of the time."

In a stroke of luck, though, of a double-edged sort, Meja's at a rank when not many can question her. And it's not as though she abuses the rules. Just bends them when they don't seem to be doing their job right.

"Oh, you're barely out of the cradle, then." He chuckles softly. His perspective is unique. "But I don't know about rules. I've given up on them, of late. Don't tell my brothers."

Said brothers know all too well what Balthazar's attitude toward rules is, of course.

She's certainly heard that before. Mostly from Fenrir, sighing about 'young creatures', though sometimes Lady Ingibjörg got fed up enough with her to take her to task. Not that it ever really stuck. A creature's age really has nothing to do with their wisdom, as she's discovered from dealing with the gods.

"Your secret's safe with me," Meja jokes. She picks up two of the runes and presses them together, to test how well she's carved them, and the runes on top begin to glow softly. "How old are angels, then? My mother didn't have a tremendously good view on Christianity, so I really only know the basics."

He can sense the shift of power when she touches the runes, and makes a small hum of interest and approval. Some angels might look down on pagan magic, but Balthazar's a pragmatist. Whatever she's done clearly works.

"Well, I'm a bit over 500 million, but I'm one of the younger ones. And I'm not religious, either. Never even been baptized." He winks.

"You mean to tell me you've never been purified? I'm not certain if I believe that," Meja teases him good-naturedly, grinning. She does have to scour her memory for that particular word and what it means. Purifying has other connotations, in the Nine Realms, and not many of them are being dunked in a bowl of water. "Someone asked me once if I worshipped the gods. I imagine you being religious would be just as awkward."

She gathers up four stones, which should make a decent enough ring for a test drive, and squints at the garden. Which plant, she wonders, for a guinea pig...

Oh, finally, someone gets it! He rewards her with a nod and a grateful smile. "Precisely. It's not a belief system to me. It's my family."

Honestly, it would be easier if it were a belief system. There'd be some emotional distance. Noting her glance, he points out a radish at the edge of the plot. "That one? Or one of the basil plants?"

"Worshipping your own family is rarely a good idea." Meja stands up, the runes already warm in her hands as they begin to come to life. Her legs complain about their first use in hours, but she ignores them to crouch near a basil plant. "What do you think? We'll already be braced for a giant one," she jokes, as she crouches. Somehow, she doubts that they'll end up with a giant basil, but it's an entertaining thought.

The Valkyrie begins to put them down, one by one, after concentrating on each rune for a lengthy moment, though nothing visibly happens at first when they're set in a ring around the plant. Each rune weighs invisibly on her mind, the power of their symbols threatening, as always, to make her sluggish and mess up the imbuing process. For gods and, she imagines, Fenrir, the power of the runes isn't at all a burden during this process. For lesser beings, it's a different story.

However, as she places her palm upon one of them, focusing her considerable energy to give each rune a singular idea — jēran for plentifulness, fehu for health and growth, berkanan for strength — the runes begin to glow again. It's slow and barely noticeable aside from the movement of the plant's leaves, but the basil does suddenly grow an inch. Meja takes a deep breath and pulls her hand away, and the glow slowly dies down again.

"Well...we do a bit of that, regardless. But, yes, too much of that gets awkward." He follows her over to the plant, kneeling to watch the procedure. His angelic senses are open, listening to the ebb and flow of the power she uses. It's bigger than he expected, and foreign, and he's fascinated.

While she finishes up, he's still as stone, not even breathing, but he sits back when she does, smiling at the suddenly taller basil. "Well, it didn't turn into a beanstalk housing a bunch of giants. That's good!"

She turns her hand over, looking at it, gauging how much energy had gone into the ring of runes. Taking herself down too low, while establishing her experiments, seems like a bad idea. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to have been too much of a drain. But enough that a permanent ring is better than doing this every day.

"I'll try harder next time, but I'm afraid giants might be a little out of my reach." Actual Jotunn in the Cape, she imagines, would be a wet blanket on things. "At least I know this works... It's too bad I can't use them as a border around the whole garden, but more runes means more trying to get away from you during the imbuing process..."

"It's definitely not worth making yourself sick over," he places a hand on her shoulder lightly. "Don't use any more energy than you feel you can safely expend. We need to plan for the long term until we get some indication there won't be one."

Carefully, he picks one of the basil leaves, splits it, and tastes half thoughtfully. It seems the same as it ever did, although his is not the most discerning palate. Offering her the other half, he adds: "Let me know if I can help in any way, of course."

Meja smiles, taking the leaf and chewing on it a moment. There's a possibility of the protection magic passing through the plant to another being when ingested, but it's distant at best. Only an Aesir or a Vanir could do it on purpose; for a Valkyrie, it would be far too exhausting. Such blessings are the way that the gods establish their power, after all.

"Don't worry. Less than an hour of meditation, today, and I'll be back to where I was." At least this will keep her mind busy and engaged, in addition. The sudden dropoff in activity, when arriving in the Cape, was jarring. Not wholly unpleasant, but different from having a cadre of Valkyrie to watch over. "Given the lack of information and resources, your garden here is very impressive."

Oh, flattery! He smiles, trying not to look as pleased as he feels. "It has to produce. There are communal crops about, of course, and I help with keeping them growing, but having my own section is satisfying. I've had help, of course. I just wish there was a wider variety of seeds to be had."

He reaches to pluck a small weed, twisting the stem between his fingers. "I've thought about trying to cultivate a few wild plants. Dandelion, purslane, maybe cattails or something."

"Dandelion leaves are good to eat, as I recall. Of course, they do spread like wildfire."

Plants had come back to Midgard after Ragnarök in a trickle. Most of the same plants. But some new, and some that hadn't been seen in a long time. Meja had assisted in humanity trying to get a foot back in the world, and agriculture had certainly been a large part of that. But she hadn't had too much to do with that part. Merely the protection of the various settlements.

"Yes, I've been picking them like mad. Fortunately, they're all over. Ellen says she'll make wine out of the blossoms, too, once there's enough."

He's looking forward to dandelion wine. It sounds a bit more refined than moonshine made from odds and ends around the Cape. "Raphael's been teaching me, as well. There are plenty of forage options around. It's a lot of work, though."

"Perhaps you could find a... patch of land out of the way, and just make a dandelion garden. Somewhere near the forest, where the other gardens would be less affected."

Meja glances toward her stones. It seems she'll be quite busy, over the next week or so, carving more. But it's something to do; she can't complain too much.

"If nothing else, I seem to have the right weather pattern down to make weeds grow," she chuckles.

"That's a good thought. I was reading about raised bed gardens not long ago. A little mound covered with dandelions might be rather charming."

He follows her gaze to the stones. "I suppose there's no point in offering to help carve? I can copy the runes easily enough, but I don't channel power the way you do."

She shakes her head slightly, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I appreciate the offer. But carving is an important part of the process. It's... sort of the blueprint, if you will, and the intent of the individual who's carving goes into the energy of the final product. If I were to be too distracted, for example, the rune might not work at all, or it might be too chaotic to use."

"Of course. I quite understand." And he does. He's fascinated and might end up watching her through the windows, but he won't interfere.

"But do feel free to knock if you need a break? I have lots more mint tea where that came from."

"Thank you. I'll likely take you up on that," Meja chuckles.

There's a small danger of Meja becoming too focused, and wearing herself out on accident; that won't help anyone. But with at least one more break, that should be less of a problem.

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'Ere the world ❆

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