Spirals

Few things alarmed Valkyrie like magic. There was a wildness to it, a danger, that made its use in any situation a little daunting. That didn’t mean it wasn’t worth the risks - it was. Her grandfather likely wouldn’t have been so successful without the counsel of his witches or their careful bending of fate.

To find herself in the presence of a male witch was surprisingly. At first blush he didn’t fit the stereotype she associated with the practice. He was large of frame, appeared strong of body, and scarred as though having seen battle. He lacked the effeminate nature she had been raised to associate with seiðmenn, but Valkyrie was aware of the deceptive nature of appearances so it was far too soon to be impressed with him.

She made no immediate comment on his skillset and instead turned her focus on his parentage. His claim to a divine father wasn’t something she wished to argue; after all her father could boast a similar connection to Odin. She was, however, interested in its implications. The foresight of Heimdall was well renowned. Perhaps his son had inherited his prowess.

All in all he was an interesting man and Valkyrie knew she would be remiss if she didn’t consider him. His connection to magic necessitated more scrutiny up front than most, but she had a valuable ally in Alfrun and knew the benefits of witches. “And I am Valkyrie Finnvi, granddaughter of Odin.” She said this not to brag, but to subtly signal her acceptance of his assertion.

Valkyrie was quiet for a beat, her expression scrutinous as she considered him, then she said, “You intrigue me, seiðmaðr, so I will grant you an interview. How did you come to hear of my band?” The thought of Norns whispering about Hjarrandi caused her skin to prickle with a mixed reaction of uneasy and excitement. He had said nothing of the sort, but his connection to magic was the first thing her mind had gone to. If not that, what then brought him to her? Rumor? Boasting? She was eager to hear the answer.