She belongs here. This wall. This far, cold, northern place. She belongs to it and it belongs to her. In every way that matters this wall is hers. Sanngriðr had returned, and something inside her had snapped. Gone cold. Gone for broke and come up broken. That was nothing new to her. The dark, cold thing in her chest? That was new. That was new and she was learning to embrace it. The glimmer in her eye and the way she carried herself, all of this was new. Everything was new, and everything was worse.

Embracing the worst version of herself. That was what the valkyrie was doing now. She climbed atop her wall and fixed her gaze out in every direction. Scanning slowly, carefully. Taking all of it in. Spring would come soon enough, but it was still deep winter in the far north. Excellent. Beautiful. A fitting landscape it was-- just as cold and brutal as she. For now Sanngriðr would stand on top of the world, and she would wait.

Wait for what? Dinner, probably. Dinner or something worth her time. A lone sentry, tense and waiting. The sun hung low around her shoulders to the west, and Sanngriðr's shadow grew long. It proved her point that you don't need physical prowess to have a presence.

"Sanngriðr"

Massive snowshoed paws carried a hulking, monochromatic figure through the alabaster powder that had collected along the edge of an old, crumbling wall. Black and silver ears remained pricked forward, though they caught all sound that drifted his way. Vale was at ease in such a place. This northern land was less harsh than the true north, which was where the man hailed from. It was a land separate from the rest of the world. A frozen wonderland nestled in the middle of dark, turbulent sea. How did he get here then, you ask? I'll tell you.

Winter had been particularly nasty. Wolves froze and died within their dens. Food was practically nonexistent. Only the strong and the wise would survive. As the bob-tailed giant was out searching for anything of use, he came upon a long stretch of frozen ice that meandered across the sea. He asked the gods for guidance and a stiff wind seemed to be pushing him towards the bridge. Who was he to argue with the gods? Vale took this new path, never looking back. There was fortune ahead. He imagined new lands to conquer. Packs to pillage, women to claim, heads to offer to Odin.

For three days Vale walked the bridge of ice. The Jotunn had nothing to eat and nothing to drink, but he carried on. If this was the price that he had to pay the gods, then he would do so gladly. This was nothing compared to other sacrifices that he'd made to put himself on their good sides. Dawn of the third day, Vale's russet gaze spied land in the distance. At that same moment, the ice cracked loudly behind him and he felt the bridge shudder. A smirk pulled at the brutes rugged features and he threw his hefty weight into large paws, racing the rest of the way to land. Only when his paws touched solid ground did the giant turn and look back. There was no bridge to be seen, just sloshing waves as they ate their frozen meal.

The first order of business was thanking Odin for seeing him safely across the sea. A rabbit crossed his path, white with its winter coat. Vale snatched the creature up, snapped its neck and poured its blood into the snow. Despite not having eaten for days, Vale didn't take part in blood nor meat. This was for the gods alone. Once his sacrifice was made, Vale made his way south until he came to a wall. The stones blocked the harsh wind that nipped at his tail. Despite his good mood, the man was thoroughly exhausted. A leisurely pace took him head on towards his very first surprise in this new world. A deep red woman resting upon the stones of the wall. In a deep growl, Vale addressed the fae, wondering if she would even speak his tongue. "You, woman. Food and shelter." That was the way of his people. Then brutes pillaged and protected and the fae's provided and cared for home.

"Vale"

The valkyrie watched him approach from a long way off, though she pretended she didn't. She'd pretend he didn't see him for a good, long time. Wait for him to come closer, and wait for her moment to strike. What would he do, once he got the desired proximity? This was not a creature that was prone to running. No, every stranger was a chance to brawl, and this was no different. Still, Sanngriðr waited. She settled in her place, stolid, unmoving. The winter sun bled low over the horizon, sky blooming deep reds and bruised purple. Each breath in her lungs a gift, and her pulse picking up. Acutely aware of just how alive she is in this moment. Horrifyingly, dangerously alive.

He nears. He speaks. Sanngriðr's lip pulls up into a sneer, sharp teeth glinting in the light of the sun. Her hackles raise around her shoulders, down her spine, making her look larger than she actually was. That was the hope, at least. This combined with her perch on the wall should make her look imposing. The valkyrie's gaze flashed, fixated on the stranger where he stood. "I am not your sister, your mother, your wife," A warrior, a raider, a pillager-- she is all three. "Nothing to me, who are you to make demands?" She spits the words, dripping venom. Less religious than her brother, but Sanngriðr knows the stories just as well. They always said she'd be one of the all mother's riders, carrying souls home to the halls someday. A valkyrie, through and through.

The entitlement of men. She does not have time for it, and she was prepared to drive him off if necessary. What gives her pause, though, is the fact that he speaks nearly as she does. Nearly. Sanngriðr's eyes narrowed, fixing on the stranger. Where had he come from? Why?

"Sanngriðr"

The red woman puffed up her coat, trying to appear larger as she flashed teeth at him. Vale wasted no time in leaping up onto the wall as well. The man's black and silver coat bristled in turn and thus, they were back to square one. There was fire in her eyes, and the jotunn appreciated that in a woman, so he didn't crush her beneath him as he surely could. She spat vitriol in his direction and the bearded brute growled in turn, volcanic baritones rumbling through a wide chest.

Vale took a step towards the woman, showing no fear. "Is this not your home? Odin himself cleared a path and gave me the power to cross the grey salt sea." Another step towards her, his size and bulk dwarfing the russet fae. "A stranger in one's home is given food and shelter where I am from." To the Viking giant, his request wasn't remotely one that was outlandish or unexpected.

"Denying a child of Odin will bring poor luck down upon you, woman." Vale towered over the fae, but there was little aggression in him. His coat had already smoothed, having believed that he'd gotten his point across. "If you've no food, together we will hunt." Surely the stubborn wench could see the wisdom in that. Hunting with two would bring down bigger game than hunting alone.

"Vale"

Tension so dense it could be cut with a knife. Her heart pounding in her chest, thick and hot. Blood and heat burning in her chest, and something else burning in her gaze. Sanngriðr assesses the man with narrowed eyes, ears pinned to her skull, palpable annoyance bubbling to the surface. "You assume this is my home, you assume I have anything to give," a bare hiss as she takes another step forward. Soon enough they'd nearly be nose to nose.

"It seems the gods abandoned this place long before you found it. There is no luck here." Bitterness rings clearly within each spoken word, her tone dripping venom. Though there was little aggression left in the man, Sanngriðr has enough for both of them. Brilliant, shining, and nearly on fire with it. All of this rage built up within her, but... well, he has offered her a hunt. Maybe it's surprise that softens her. Maybe it's hunger. Maybe it's the idea that she won't have to do it alone this time.

"Fine." Sanngriðr relaxes, if a fraction. She allows her hackles to smooth some. "We hunt."

The woman's words and attitude were nothing to the jotun. He was used to females having spit and fire. He was used to them having backbone. His mother had been the most fiery of the pack and he'd caught the teeth of her ire many a time. This little woman was no surprise. They shared the same dialect, so he could only assume that she came from similar stock. She spat vitriol in his direction and the giant only grinned, flashing long, white canines. He liked fire.

Again the fae spoke, this time to tell him that the gods had abandoned this place. Vale released a hearty laugh, all avalanches and rockslides. "The gods may have abandoned you, woman, but they have not abandoned me." One big paw rose and the brute thumped his chest proudly. "I have made my sacrifice to the gods. I am favored." His tail had once been long and sleek. It was a small price to pay for the gods shining grace.

Vale's insistence that they hunt was met with the woman acquiescing. Her ruby pelt smoothed and the giant grinned anew. "First your name, shieldmaiden." It was a compliment, comparing the fae to the Valkyries of legend and lore. Their hunt would prove whether she was truly deserving of such a comparison.

"Vale"

Similar stock, but there is something in her chest. She is betrayer and redeemer, she is danger and... and something worse. There is something within her that's come unstuck. Unglued. A dog on a chain-- but you know what they say about hungry dogs and loyalty? Sanngriðr has crossed terrible paths, and there are things at her back that are perhaps just as terrible. Need to be great to be terrible. Need to be terrible to be great. She's not making sense. Not this time. Not anymore.

Fuck.

Something about favor, and her eyes narrow where they sit on his face. If she looks much longer, she'll fall straight into him-- fuck. "For now." She speaks, and the valkyrie can feel the rush in her head. In her chest. It feels and tastes the same way anything intoxicating does. Pleasant, in the worst way. Much like the rest of Sanngriðr, pleasant in the worst way.

His words are enough to charm, and he knows it. It's more clear than anything that he knows it. "Sanngriðr." Named for one of the valkyries, and she'd do nothing short of live up to it. Named for the most violent, the most cruel among them-- she'd lived up to that, too. She would not stop. Could not. "And yours?" It was only polite, though her manners wore thin. Already her muzzle was lifted toward the breeze, searching. There had to be a meal nearby.