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.
Sanngriðr speaks with a Swedish accent.
Sanngriðr's threads may be rated M for use of mature language.
