12-31-2015, 10:32 AM
I am iron and I forge myself
There always has been, and always will be some debate as to nature vs. nurture. Had Grim Reaper done her best to raise her daughter instead of turning her over to Abel, Lagertha might have turned out quite differently. What does a madwoman know of keeping a child alive? She was unpredictable at best, having a thoughtful moment every now and then. But the old hag knew herself too well; it was only a matter of time before the seer woke up and sounded the alarm, and Carnage wasn’t there to lend a helping hand anymore. Abel, however, was. She popped out of the woodwork when she was most needed. Good ‘ol dependable Abel - far more of a loyal Amazonian than Grimmy ever was.
Abel alone is responsible for cultivating Lagertha into who she is today: General, Khaleesi, stern but loving mother of three, and quite possibly the leader of what could be a very powerful army. It’s all rather up in the air. But she’s got something going for her. In this regard, Abel is Lagertha’s mother, which makes these two gray mares sisters in all but blood, as they cuddled up against the same scarred side at night. They even have similar coloring, parentage be damned.
The outlines of the tattoos are faint, but she saw them in her river-side reflection this morning. The silvery lines trace a looping nose-guard pattern down her face, falling under her cheeks and throat, and then intertwining in sharp angles until they spread out again as armor along her chest. Even her flower is starting to return, lacing up her right leg and intertwining with the pattern in a dizzying manner. Her right haunch has begun to show signs of a new tattoo, some sort of curvy thing with a feline-ish face, which she can only assume comes with her rank. The jungle spirit is fully grown now, prowling about the Jungle on silent paws. It no longer plays amongst their hooves, batting at bugs and butterflies; it is a dangerous and beautiful creature, made for protecting and killing.
She knows Vineine by sight and smell and name, if little else. Daughter of Prague. Personally, she loves when daughters of sisters return to them, following in the hoofprints of their mother. It makes her feel like they’re doing something right. Lagertha doesn’t make the connection between Abel and this new mare at all, she simply spots Vineine out on the Field and decides to join her. With a nod to the rose and another to the silver, the iron colored Queen joins their group, dropping in at just the right time. “There are. As well as a hundred thousand different plants, monkeys, frogs, and some creatures we have no name for. It is beautiful chaos.” She turns her head to look at Vineine, curious to see what she will say of the Jungle. Lagertha’s had plenty of time to form her own opinion, having lived there for god only knows how many years. What does a newcomer think>
Abel alone is responsible for cultivating Lagertha into who she is today: General, Khaleesi, stern but loving mother of three, and quite possibly the leader of what could be a very powerful army. It’s all rather up in the air. But she’s got something going for her. In this regard, Abel is Lagertha’s mother, which makes these two gray mares sisters in all but blood, as they cuddled up against the same scarred side at night. They even have similar coloring, parentage be damned.
The outlines of the tattoos are faint, but she saw them in her river-side reflection this morning. The silvery lines trace a looping nose-guard pattern down her face, falling under her cheeks and throat, and then intertwining in sharp angles until they spread out again as armor along her chest. Even her flower is starting to return, lacing up her right leg and intertwining with the pattern in a dizzying manner. Her right haunch has begun to show signs of a new tattoo, some sort of curvy thing with a feline-ish face, which she can only assume comes with her rank. The jungle spirit is fully grown now, prowling about the Jungle on silent paws. It no longer plays amongst their hooves, batting at bugs and butterflies; it is a dangerous and beautiful creature, made for protecting and killing.
She knows Vineine by sight and smell and name, if little else. Daughter of Prague. Personally, she loves when daughters of sisters return to them, following in the hoofprints of their mother. It makes her feel like they’re doing something right. Lagertha doesn’t make the connection between Abel and this new mare at all, she simply spots Vineine out on the Field and decides to join her. With a nod to the rose and another to the silver, the iron colored Queen joins their group, dropping in at just the right time. “There are. As well as a hundred thousand different plants, monkeys, frogs, and some creatures we have no name for. It is beautiful chaos.” She turns her head to look at Vineine, curious to see what she will say of the Jungle. Lagertha’s had plenty of time to form her own opinion, having lived there for god only knows how many years. What does a newcomer think>
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons
i am planning on posting to vineine, so can we just say they know each other?
