Weather · Norse · Thor, Sól, Skadi
A specific draw
Frozen card, same seed, same composition. The pantheon of the cold north, where weather is a god in motion, Thor with his hammer, Skadi on her skis, Sól outrunning the wolf at her heels.
Old North · cloudy
Frigg
the cloud-weaver, queen of Ásgard
Frigg sits in her hall Fensalir and turns her spindle, drawing the long grey fleece of the sky into thread that drifts and gathers overhead. She knows the fate of every living thing and speaks none of it, and the cloud cover is her silence made soft and wide. The Norse saw the banded clouds of a still day as her distaff trailing across the heavens, the wool of the world being spun slow and patient. As mother of Baldr she carries a grief she folds away, and the muffled light of an overcast morning is that quiet kept gently overhead. When the sky goes pale and close, it is the queen at her work, weaving the weather no one is meant to read aloud.
A grey morning after a hard question is Frigg keeping your fate folded, not refused, folded, the answer is still on the spindle.