Festivities and Fancies [AW]

*Sanngriðr* · 03-24-2022, 07:57 PM

Sanngriðr is bold, brassy, brilliant. She can't help herself. There's something about her, something strange but wonderful all the same. She's a different sort of woman, at least from the ones that she's met. The valkyrie suspects that she and Róta both will always be this way. A pair of fighters, a pair of shieldmaidens. They are the choosers of the slain, after all. A different sort, yes. Different. Strange. Wonderful, though not easy to stomach. Neither of them has to be. It's probably for that reason, among many others, that they remain a pair of maidens. Two of a kind, but different and wild.

Allies, the nomads. He spoke of them now, and the valkyrie nodded softly, more to herself than anything else. Their patron for the festival seemed far different than her own, but it was all so interesting to learn. There was no harm in learning, right? Listening, learning, and taking in as much as she could. Anything could help her later, as they settled into Boreas. Absolutely anything. Sanngriðr is observant, after all. She'd learn. She'd grow. Things would come together in time. In all, the valkyrie is still very much wild.

"Ah, you also hunt bears!" The grin that played on her face was one that edged toward wild. The bear hunts, they required guts. You know what they say about guts? No guts, no glory. There was so much glory in hunting bears. "Our people hunt a bear as the height of Midsommar festival," a festival that would last several days, as long as there's enough alcohol to soak the party, but she'd leave that part out. They'd cull a bear, and to wear its pelt was the greatest honor of all. A hunt... gods how she loved the hunts when they all moved in time, a well-greased machine. Those were the best days.

Ardyn said he wouldn't drink much, considering that he wanted to be in his right mind for the tournament. A wildness danced in Sanngriðr's gaze, her head tossing. "You tell me that they fight sober here?" Disbelief colored her tone, only a bit played up for the theatrics of it all. Had she ever charged into battle without a little help from the gods themselves? Never. Neither Sanngriðr or her mother before her. A little help... a lot of help, sometimes, depending on the battle itself. "Can't imagine it," she's relaxed, another toss of her broad head as they make their way through the carnival itself. "I'll have to cheer for you, unless you fight my brother." Sanngriðr muses, stepping away from the alpha to grab a pair of mead glasses and returning moments later. Gently offering one to Ardyn, and settling back to her own space.

"Skål," the valkyrie declares, holding her glass aloft. It was a good evening, after all.

SANNGRIÐR
Kom och hata mig.

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