08-18-2015, 10:12 PM
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| Skegg\uc0\u491 ld, Sk\'e1lm\u491 ld, Skildir ro Klofnir |
| The girl reeks of sadness. She can block mind reading (a trait she's acquired from her father, but is unaware) but it doesn't take a psychic to peer into those orange eyes and see the truth. Too stoic for her young age - clearly jaded by something. Mortality, mostly. Though wasn't father immortal? He felt the immortality slip away the minute Thorunn entered the world - head first, with a crack of her neck - and raise as though nothing happened. Was it transference? Was it just his time? Thorunn hasn't drawn any conclusions yet, because the truth will break her heart. But the stoic, sad child she is ... she's still a child of duty. While the last year (has it been a year? Greater than? This puts holes in her heart) has passed without any semblance of duty she's come to realize it's time to emerge. Her sister wanted it of her. Her father would have wanted it of her. One foot in front of the other. It doesn't take her long to find Eight - that's his name, right? She met him once as a young child. She's still so young, with the gentle slope of feminine shoulders with taut, childish muscles. She's short, like her father, but with her mother's copper color. And of course those orange eyes. "Hello Eight," she says, her voice a deadpan that started as an attempt to mirror her father and stuck around out of habit. She's unsure of what her normal cadence is, she only knows what she's clung to from her father. "I'm Thorunn," she says to the mare with him. |
| Thorunn |
| immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |