01-14-2016, 11:30 AM
I am iron and I forge myself
Up, and over. Hit the ground and keep on running. Weave left, then right, then - fuck, that isn’t supposed to be there. Dodge. Her heart pounds a familiar rhythm. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. She lets it sink into the rest of her body, hooves churning up the earth behind her as dirt clods fly in her wake. The path is new - she’s chosen a fresh course, untrampled and pristine and full of surprises. This is Lagertha’s time. Her lungs haven’t started to burn yet, nor has she had to tell herself just one more hill, one more pine tree. Sweat begins to darken her coat in a few areas as she eats up the miles, weaving an unplanned path around the common areas of Beqanna. She can’t run like this in the Jungle, she’d end up with a broken neck.
This is Lagertha’s personal time, and she guards it jealously.
Ahead lie a couple of felled trees. Not just one, so there must have been some sort of thunderstorm or fierce winds running through the area. The warrior Queen takes them in stride. One, two, and - in the space it takes to breath and collect herself to go over the third tree, in the time it takes for her nostrils to flare in exhalation, the world flickers and the birds go silent. Do you know how creepy it is for the world to go quiet? Lagertha lives in a mother-fucking Jungle. The only time the world goes quiet is where there is a great threat, and something more dangerous than a jaguar is stalking its prey. There are all sorts of monsters in Beqanna, but none that bring the Silence.
She pulls up short, snorting and on immediate alert. Every sound she makes seems like a dull roar, so she forces herself to breathe more quietly, to shove all the racing thoughts in her mind aside, and listen. She hears them now - bells. Bells have never rung here before, and yet she knows them for what they are. Funny how that works. The world may not be gray, but it is certainly lifeless… and eerily similar to another sort of thing that happened over a decade ago. Not the beginning, but everything else. While she’s busy musing about potential causes, a voice enters her head and she finds that her legs begin to move of their own accord. Come… you must come now.
Oh for fuck’s sake. She grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, dark eyes flashing in irritation. It’s been more than a few years since anyone has given her an order, and Lagertha finds that she doesn’t like it. At all. Ok, fine. Want to play that game? Lagertha ups her pace to a lively trot, trying to force whatever magic is at hand to keep up. Wouldn’t want her to get lost, now would we? But since magic is magic, it is able to, and Lagertha finds herself approaching a growing group. None of them look familiar, though the fresh pine smell of the Chamber is prevalent, as is the sweetgrass smell of Gates. None of her Sisters are here, and Lagertha’s lips twist into a frown for a moment.
Out of the corner of her eye, something stirs, and she whips her head around to stare at it. For a moment, it becomes clear, and she almost laughs. What a weird looking creature. Seven eyes and seven horns (she’s had horns, and doesn’t imagine that multiple pairs would be very comfortable - talk about a sore neck) and the bells seem to ring seven times more intensely now, as if they are trying to wake the dead. But no - she’s been to the Afterlife before. This is just Beqanna, but different. The lamb disappears, and she shakes her head, partly to clear her head of the pealing tones and partly because she isn’t sure what to make of the potential apparition. Her attention turns to the assembled horses, and eyes them all up and down. Some are young, and some are soft. One seems a warrior like herself, and despite the fact that he reeks of the Chamber and testosterone, if she has to pick an ally, she’ll pick someone she can understand. Plus, she never had anything against the Chamberlings - unless they come traipsing into her Jungle uninvited again.
Although, given the fact that she failed miserably at rescuing Gail because she has a spiked tongue instead of a silken one, perhaps one of the ‘nicer’ looking companions would be best. Behold! The end of the world is nigh! booms out, surrounding them in sound and what can only be a show of power. Which, if it can quiet the world and ring bells and do that, it must actually be worth listening to. The iron lady cannot, however, keep her inner cynic in check. She scoffs aloud. “How many fucking times can the world end? Can’t you all find a new trick to peddle around?” Maybe it’s the return of her tattoos that make her bold, or her faith in herself, or just that she’s sick and tired of being yanked around by magic. Especially when she’s sorely lacking anything that can come close to competing with it.
You are the chosen ones. Will you accept your fate?
She rolls her eyes and mutters to herself. “As if we have a choice.” What's the point of being Queen if she can’t get out of shit like this?
This is Lagertha’s personal time, and she guards it jealously.
Ahead lie a couple of felled trees. Not just one, so there must have been some sort of thunderstorm or fierce winds running through the area. The warrior Queen takes them in stride. One, two, and - in the space it takes to breath and collect herself to go over the third tree, in the time it takes for her nostrils to flare in exhalation, the world flickers and the birds go silent. Do you know how creepy it is for the world to go quiet? Lagertha lives in a mother-fucking Jungle. The only time the world goes quiet is where there is a great threat, and something more dangerous than a jaguar is stalking its prey. There are all sorts of monsters in Beqanna, but none that bring the Silence.
She pulls up short, snorting and on immediate alert. Every sound she makes seems like a dull roar, so she forces herself to breathe more quietly, to shove all the racing thoughts in her mind aside, and listen. She hears them now - bells. Bells have never rung here before, and yet she knows them for what they are. Funny how that works. The world may not be gray, but it is certainly lifeless… and eerily similar to another sort of thing that happened over a decade ago. Not the beginning, but everything else. While she’s busy musing about potential causes, a voice enters her head and she finds that her legs begin to move of their own accord. Come… you must come now.
Oh for fuck’s sake. She grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, dark eyes flashing in irritation. It’s been more than a few years since anyone has given her an order, and Lagertha finds that she doesn’t like it. At all. Ok, fine. Want to play that game? Lagertha ups her pace to a lively trot, trying to force whatever magic is at hand to keep up. Wouldn’t want her to get lost, now would we? But since magic is magic, it is able to, and Lagertha finds herself approaching a growing group. None of them look familiar, though the fresh pine smell of the Chamber is prevalent, as is the sweetgrass smell of Gates. None of her Sisters are here, and Lagertha’s lips twist into a frown for a moment.
Out of the corner of her eye, something stirs, and she whips her head around to stare at it. For a moment, it becomes clear, and she almost laughs. What a weird looking creature. Seven eyes and seven horns (she’s had horns, and doesn’t imagine that multiple pairs would be very comfortable - talk about a sore neck) and the bells seem to ring seven times more intensely now, as if they are trying to wake the dead. But no - she’s been to the Afterlife before. This is just Beqanna, but different. The lamb disappears, and she shakes her head, partly to clear her head of the pealing tones and partly because she isn’t sure what to make of the potential apparition. Her attention turns to the assembled horses, and eyes them all up and down. Some are young, and some are soft. One seems a warrior like herself, and despite the fact that he reeks of the Chamber and testosterone, if she has to pick an ally, she’ll pick someone she can understand. Plus, she never had anything against the Chamberlings - unless they come traipsing into her Jungle uninvited again.
Although, given the fact that she failed miserably at rescuing Gail because she has a spiked tongue instead of a silken one, perhaps one of the ‘nicer’ looking companions would be best. Behold! The end of the world is nigh! booms out, surrounding them in sound and what can only be a show of power. Which, if it can quiet the world and ring bells and do that, it must actually be worth listening to. The iron lady cannot, however, keep her inner cynic in check. She scoffs aloud. “How many fucking times can the world end? Can’t you all find a new trick to peddle around?” Maybe it’s the return of her tattoos that make her bold, or her faith in herself, or just that she’s sick and tired of being yanked around by magic. Especially when she’s sorely lacking anything that can come close to competing with it.
You are the chosen ones. Will you accept your fate?
She rolls her eyes and mutters to herself. “As if we have a choice.” What's the point of being Queen if she can’t get out of shit like this?
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons