Methods

There’s a certain kind of satisfaction to be found in communion, or so they’d found. When Mihal and their twin had been young they’d learned how to commune with all the Pantheon; plants and flowers lovingly tended to for the Sun Mother, sweets and stark white bone for the Watchman, family foods and spirits to the Hearth Keeper, jewels and fish to Lady Leviathan, just to know what to do if they ever needed to pray for another of their domains.

And most importantly they learned of their own deity; The Sky Painter, lover of instrument, of old things lost in value, and art in all it’s forms. 

And they’d learned the Cirque’s own methods of offerings, performances of art in both the temporary vessel of flesh, and then they’d twisted it into their own method now that they were existing on their own.

They’d always enjoyed the art of crafting, of making things from materials and allowing them to take on a whole new meaning and existence. It was soothing work, the steady labour of deciding where to bend what, what material to add, what colour would accentuate their design best.

The hardest part of the task was gathering the medium for their projects, but even that only ever really required a touch of patience and waiting for something they could work with to come along through the dense trees of their forest.

Just a bit of patience and a single satisfying crack.

Then they were free to work as they wished.