[center][h1][color=olivedrab] The Pantheon [/color][/h1][/center]
Lady Myorvaine was always there in a flurry of leaves and the soft scent of flowers and it was as if she had always been. Her form was younger then most, looking more like the body of a prebubescent teen then a beautiful woman, though her eyes bore the wisdom of many eons. Atop her head curled ivory horns, between them a simple jewel that granted visions of the treasured forest glens she held domain over. 

Her throne was made of great roots and branches, twining together into a living creation that writhed and cracked and groaned. Saplings, vines and shrubbery grew around it, fast enough to show visibly their life cycle but slow enough to be considered a relaxing form of art. Flowers budded, bloomed and drifted away and grass tickled the edges of Lady Myorvaine's feet, as she watched the processing with wide eyes and the twitching head of a curious bird.

Lady Myorvaine's movements were not fluid at all. They were jagged and sudden, like fairies in flight, zipping that way and this with a strange flow. It was always the way when she was concerntrating, the world reflected in those big yellow eyes, as if the speediness of her processing could not be contained to her mind alone and must be felt viscerally in her body.

She squatted low on her throne as the Wise Man set up his Mulliods for perusal. Lady Myorvaine herself did not understand the other God's commitment to the exchange - Why couldn't they just learn to [i]be[/i] and let what happens, happens? Why was there such a dedication to this ritual they had experienced cataclysm after cataclysm? Myorvaine took pride in her beloved ones, but it was a tethered sort, built on an understanding that change came without care for anyone's opinions about it. It seemed a waste to be parading around their creations when they could be watching them develop and grow already.

Still, Myorvaine had nothing if not patience. She understood the Gods had their Pleasures, and she would submit herself to their discussion, though she felt pretty neutral about the whole affair.

[color=olivedrab]"A worthwhile creation,"[/color] her voice a constant whisper of rustling leaves crunching underfoot and the sound of the breeze through the canopy.  [color=olivedrab]"I anticipate wondrous things."[/color]

She curled up on the arm of her throne, allowing the roots to wrap around her in a cacoon as the procession continued. Her eyes lit up at Ashkar's words, and she nodded with his wisdom.[color=olivedrab]"Those who are friends with nature will always find nature is friends with them..."[/color] she murmured softly, drifting off...

Miralis scimmed over her. It was unsurprising, considering how unassuming the Lady Myorvaine was.

[color=olivedrab]"My people are here."[/color] she waved an arm lazily and at the centerpiece above her throne, the branches untangled to reveal a small orb cradled softly by the foliage. Myorvaine rolled onto her back to gaze up at the sleeping forms of her people, her lips puckered in the smallest of smiles.

A strange mismash of horns and antlers and barky skin, the four youths slept peacefully in a pile, entwined together. They seemed unaware of the divine gazes upon their sleeping forms.

[color=olivedrab]"I give them only the gift of life and love. It is their choice how they wish to use it. They shall call the forests home and the woods will be filled with their laughter."[/color] and her eyes were only filled with a mother's tenderness for her little ones.