The star-marked viking ghosted through the forest like a shadow, just another wisp of fog swirling through the melting snow. Moon-silver eyes stared unseeing through the mists, the gold flecks swirling through the irises all but invisible in the gloom. Tension showed through every line of her thin frame, but it was not her surroundings that brought her to this. No, the forest around her had been dismissed as meaningless. It was her thoughts that held her attention, that clenched her jaw in a motion much like pain. She must go back. No, not back to the bosom of the Finnvi family, where her uncle ruled and they spread a righteous fear as they went a-viking. Those days were behind her. She and Kapra, for better or worse, had settled in this new land. There was no going back. She needed to go back to the way things were before, before Ebony had made her soft and weak. She cared deeply for Raisa, she would do anything for her, but she was unworthy of any affection returned to her. She could not simply be a hound lapping at the hand of its master and expect Raisa to view her as anything more than that. She had been consumed with the disappearance of Jaegar, battered by the loss of Yfir, and she was lessened by it. Raisa said she was worthy. Raisa lied. Oh undoubtedly Raisa was doing it out of kindness rather than maliciousness... that was Raisa's way. She would likely find it too cruel to tell Katja the truth. Too cruel to tell her that she had failed Raisa, had failed Raisa's children, had failed the gods and lost their favor. Had lost the gods-given instincts that had always served her well and set her apart from the rabble. But it was Katja's responsibility to regain her footing, not Raisa's, and so the viking had set her path back to her old ways. Her mercenary ways. The way of a true viking. That path had carried her here, just wandering as she regained her strength and toned her slim body once more. She could no longer afford to be soft - Virgil had made that quite clear. So she would be  hard, diamond-hard and diamond-sharp and she would burn the world with her until she was reunited with Auora in Valhalla once more. ""

 

she has been looming in the shadows; an eerie phantom haunting the perpetual mists of her proclaimed dominion with a condemnatory gaze as she pinpoints the negligent and familiar viking: her brother’s dethroned queen. and the elysius can only contemplate whether or not it is a notion to spite, for it is not confidential knowledge that the elysius dwells within this cryptic keep, her domineering fragrance etched into the very mists shrouding the earth as if she still adorns the elysium throne -- as if her possession over this wood is engraved into the soil. and the tyrant is the indignant protector of her possessions { fiamette, the forest, her son }, vexation blossoming within the depths of her chest cavity as the compulsion to fortify and conquer hounds her vindictive conscience, defenses diligently sliding in to play as she prepares for the impending battle, the wounds she received from the secretuan trio a few months prior now completely mended, unidentifiable save for the scarred lacerations carved into her left thigh. but they merely enhance her grotesque exterior. and the elysius attempts to descend upon the former queen perpendicularly from katja’s left side, attempting to come to a standstill approximately ten feet away from the battered viking as a crooked grin chisels her marred countenance. “perhaps searching for trouble is unwise,” the deity suggests with a saccharine croon, quirking a brow as her dulled nails haphazardly knead the earth beneath her -- biding her time if but for the moment, like the proverbial snake in the grass, waiting for the opportune moment to S T R I K E.

He would follow his mother diligently. Her silver pools trained on her pallid shadow as she lead him to their destination. He didn't question it, rarely did he ever question anything from his mother since finding out about the death of his brother. Silence encompassed his ever growing bodice, now that he was nearly a month old, he towered over the stature of most pups his age. Oversized paws pressed into the earth of his home, his kingdom, silver tipped audits careening forward in attendance. The foreign scent of a stranger would fill his nostrils, his gaze immediately lifting to search his mothers face. Surely this intruder would be dealt with? He would follow his mother, though he halted about 5 feet behind her, putting a vast distance between himself and the intruder. Blackened lips would curl, as his eyes narrowed to slits. He did not know this woman, but she was not welcomed into his home. His mothers voice would fill his ears, bringing a sense of pride to fill his chest. He wasnt big enough to defend his home yet. but his mother was, so for now he would allow her to defend their kingdom. His dark crown would lift above his shoulders while fluffy tail curled about his hips. He was far from intimating, but in his own mind, he was a monster to be feared. ""

Well, wasn't this a miserable piss stain of a land?  The gladiatrix pauses in her quest, keen lavender gaze narrowing as she searches through mist and fog for the ever elusive path.  This wicked aura that hung about this place was almost certain to deter prey and was ill-fit for the goddess' uses.  Aerndís had ventured out of Arcanum to work her mind in hunting more exotic prey.  She snorted in irritation.  Fuck.  She'd someone gotten herself turned around in this miserable hell, she just knew it!

A chill breeze rushed through the branches, rustling and clicking above her like fangs.  She could only guess was creatures were crawling about in the forest underbelly like worms crawling through a cur's gut.  Time to get the fuck out of here.  Swift and silent the femme fatale manuevers her way through the forest, pausing as wolf scent meets her searching nostrils.  Hmmm… how interesting.  Lips curl over fangs as she strolls toward the source with a grin on her face only to come upon three other wolves.  Her heart rate quickens as she notes the scars.  How delicious, these two were surely warriors.  Lavender gaze falls for a moment on the pup but then quickly back to the adults.  The boy is barely worth the effort it took her to tilt her head.

"Good evening my war torn ladies…. what do we have here?  A secret meeting?  A lover's tryst? Maybe something a little more fun… hm?" Aerndís couldn't resist a good bit of gossip and had no intention of leaving no matter how secret their little meeting was.



"Speech"

 

Following the scent that came to him on the wind, Laufey soon lit upon the scene. "Drottning!" he exclaimed, thoroughly pleased to see Katja again. After the challenge Laufey had let himself get drug off by Orochi, something he soon came to regret. His brother abandoned him, disappearing without another word, and the boy had been left alone once more. Really he shouldn't have been surprised, but it still hurt. "I wasn't sure I'd see you again," he admitted to Katja before letting his gaze flick over the unknown wolves. There was a white fae, a boy and- Hot damn. His eyes settled on the lavender eyed fae. Wow, was she something else! Laufey managed to pull his attention away from her and back to Katja. His brow spots lifting, he asked, "Friends of yours?" He hoped yes, because if they were, she was obligated to introduce them - which meant he was one step closer to getting to know the lovely earth hued fae. "Speech"