Festivities and Fancies [AW]

*Sanngriðr* · 02-25-2022, 12:17 AM

Maybe it was the heathen in her, but it hadn't struck Sanngriðr that she should even consider dressing up for an occasion like this one. Imagine... dressing! What a concept. Aside from her brother's armor, and likely soon a set of her own, the valkyrie didn't really know what else she'd put on. Come the winter, it would likely be necessary for her to craft a cape of furs, something to keep warm. But for now... no, party clothes weren't really something she knew of. That, and in the summer? It seemed like it would be far too warm. Still, it was interesting to see the spirit that the others would get into. She was polite, curious in the way that she addressed Ardyn.

Catch someone's eye, that wasn't a figure of speech that Sanngriðr was used to. Still, it made at least a bit of sense. "Whose ah, eye are you hoping to catch?" It was a light tone, and her own gaze cast upon the carnival at large. The hustle and bustle of it all... it certainly was a lot. The raven rejoined them where they sat, and Sanngriðr could only hope that her family hadn't seen him. The fixation on omens, on symbols, on all of it-- they'd never leave her alone to do her job. Gods, she loved them but sometimes they were a lot of work. From the corner of her eye, she caught the gaze of the bird as it rested upon her.

"Who does your autumn festival honor?" It was conversational. If his pack's autumn festival was something that could take after the one that spread before them, Sanngriðr already knew that it was far different. Still, it would be best to learn about their customs, about the ways of the packs here. Their fall festival would be a far smaller, far quieter affair. Hopefully by next summer they could have a Midsummer of their own, though. Gods, she could hope. Midsummer was the best of all, when it came to their faith. The very thought of it gave the valkyrie's heart wings.

Right, eye contact. Sanngriðr's gaze returned to the man beside her, nodding once. "It goes," the words came with a smile, though. Things were progressing. She offered her foreleg, showing the man the area where the doe's hooves had scraped before. "All healed," the skin had knit back together well, and no scabbing remained. Still, it would be some time before the fur grew back over the jagged pink line. "And you?" Right. Manners. Sanngriðr was at least trying her best when it came to the manners thing.

SANNGRIÐR
Kom och hata mig.

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