05-30-2015, 04:47 PM
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
You know what else is gray? Lagertha, the Amazonian General. She’s not like a cloudy-day gray or a winter-gray… more like a steel and iron gray. A metal-hard gray, that some might say penetrates to the very center of her heart.
It isn’t true, of course. Lagertha has a red, fleshy heart like everyone else. She does, however, tend to frown upon emotions and the sort of things that allow one to be weak. Or maybe that’s just an excuse she uses, because she just hasn’t met that special someone yet.
Today, Lagertha decides she needs to feel the cold air on her skin. It helps to clear her head, leaves her senses more crisp and awake than the dull, heavy heat of the Jungle. She loves that blanketing, all-consuming heat, but just like someone leaving the sauna, that first breath of freshness leaves her tingling and awake and alive. Today, the General isn’t doing much of anything. She should be doing something, of course - stealing or battling or what have you - but Lagertha doesn’t feel the need to prove herself at the moment. Maybe later. Maybe when Spring comes.
The first thing she sees when she enters the Meadow is some silly mare running at breakneck speed (literally, she could trip and break her fucking neck) with her eyes closed. She knows she should intervene, but something else in her assumes the black woman has an actual, active death wish. Lagertha’s gaze follows the mare’s progress, and when she finds that at some point, the mare has opened her eyes and does not, in fact, fall and break any number of limbs, she follows, rightfully curious.
And then there are three - the two who seem to know each other, one blue and one black - and the tattooed, thorny General. She bears the vine and rose in a twisted, Nordic pattern on her chest, as a sigil that they may or may not know. It doesn’t take a genius to identify the morose, contemplative expression on one, and the careless state of the other. She too, carries twigs and leaves in her half-Andalusian mane but it is because accumulating such in the Jungle is inevitable. Besides, it makes her look a little more wild, don’t you think?
So. Two not-so-happy mares and Lagertha. She interrupts them shamelessly, commenting on the general state of things as she sees it. Is is such a very Lagertha like thing to do. “You two seem like the antithesis of happiness. Throwing some sort of pity party, are we?”
lagertha
carnage x grim reaper; amazonian general
[idk where this came from but hiiiii
]