 | | Skeggǫld, Skálmǫld, Skildir ro Klofnir | The Valley, she's learned, is her home.
Covet and Librette, she's learned, are her parents.
Val and Nayl, she's learned, are her sisters. Though Val is a different sister, the other side of her coin. Where Val is ready to touch noses and say hello, Thorunn hangs back. It's not fear, perse, it's calculation. She always must be sure of what is to come, she must always be aware of what she's getting herself into. There's something unnatural about Val's friendly demeanor, but Thorunn loves it anyway.
Or, at least, she thinks she does.
The Valley is large and vaguely terrifying for a child, but it never occurred to Thorunn to be afraid. Her parents are of the Valley the same way she is, at least she thinks so. She knows very little of father's past but knows he is very old. Mother...her love for the Valley is written on her face. It's on the great tree that gave her life. It's everywhere, and it leaves Thorunn with an odd sense of entitlement. Don't you know I am born of this land? She seems to say with each step.
So she stands, a child of not even a year, alone on the crest of a hill of the Valley.
| | Thorunn | | immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |
from what i've tasted of desire, i'll hold with those who favor fire
some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice
from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’ll hold with those who favor fire - R. Frost
He knows nothing of the familial bonds that tie others together. His father was a dark God, and his mother a helpless romantic searching for good in the darkest corners of the night. She’d found a God true enough, but he had offered her no semblance of salvation. He had appeared to her from the sky, or maybe from the earth itself, bringing with him the scent of burning things and dust from the stars. But he had given her nothing more than a carnal piece of himself and a child marked with space and capable of controlling the fires of hell.
He is not born of this land; he is born of stars and prayers and some place far away. But he is entitled to this land, a prince of the blood here. This land was his fathers land how many times before? It was his father who had raised it from the ashes many times over, and burned it to the ground in the very next breath. So while he may not have been born in the forests here, he strode the land as if it were his own. Through the forests, over hills and into valleys: it was his to stride. Today he walked without much purpose, his feet carrying him from one grazing spot to the next. It would never occur to him to feel afraid here, or anywhere for that matter. Fire is his trump card, his ace in the hole, his be all to end all. It is well within his realm of powers to light things on fire with nothing more than a thought of an idea in his head. If that were to fail him, he was impervious to the fire he could create and thus amused himself by lighting his entire body on fire. So fear was not a problem for him.
He is chewing idly, feeling exceptionally dull today, when movement ahead catches his eye (blindingly blue eyes, standing stark against a black coat and nebula-colored blaze.) It is a child, with a proud demeanor he can see from where he currently stood. He does not know the child, but that’s not surprising. Children weren’t his “thing”. Making children, sure…raising them? No. But he heads towards her anyways. After all, the day is boring in a way even he can’t liven up. He slows on approach, resisting the urge to burn something just to see the look on her face. “Hello.” he says simply, tilting his head in the way a cat might when watching a mouse. “I’m Flamevein.” Perhaps he should say more, but words are failing him right now. He watches her quietly, wondering who’s mistake she was.
flamevein
fire bending son of carnage and alcippe
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| | Skeggǫld, Skálmǫld, Skildir ro Klofnir | Thorunn is naturally wary, but not in the way of someone who has reason to be. She's born with an edge of cynicism, perhaps due to her...unfortunate...birthing situation. The first of twins she landed with an unnatural thud, only to heal instantly and stand. Maybe it was that quick brush with death, maybe it was the lack of oxygen to her brain for that split second, maybe it was that before she was truly of this world, she was of that world.
Whatever the case, Thorunn is a naturally stoic child. She regards her new friend the way she does everything else in the world - with a detached interest, careful not to get too close, careful not to reveal too much. She'd rather listen than speak. She'd rather be off to the side of the crowd, observing. It's not malicious, she's too young to be truly mean, but it doesn't come from an everlasting sense of helpfulness either.
He speaks and she is silent for half a beat, her orange eyes watching him carefully. "Thorunn," she says, after that brief pause, offering a forced, awkward smile. "It's nice to meet you." | | Thorunn | | immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |
 no matter what they say, I am still the king
The fated child of Covet and Librette – such a heavy weight to bear. Two of the Valley’s oldest members, creatures who lurked in the heart of her for the longest time. It seemed as if Covet and Librette were made of the Valley – her soil in their veins, her trees tied into the chambers of their hearts. While neither Covet nor Librette seem to be quite so doting to children, they raised you well none the less (or at least, kept you alive). Perhaps you, too, will end up growing into the bark of the Valley, becoming a living, breathing entity of it, just as your parents.
And then there is you, Flamevein. Also tied to the Valley, born from her history, caked with the dark past of your parentage. Perhaps, we could say, that most children birthed in Beqanna are tied to the Valley in some way. The past rulers of this darkened land have carved a place for themselves in the history of Beqanna. What shall you two carve?
Eight has not been around much, and in retaliation, the once booming Valley has melted away. And now it was up to him to stand up once more, and create the flurry of activity that once was. What better way to start than with the future?
He approaches quietly, after watching the beginning of their exchange. Thorunn, he knew, was of Librette and Covet, and Flamevein he had come across before. “Flamevein, hello again. Thorunn, nice to meet you.” He was never really good at this sort of thing, truly. Perhaps why he was best seen and not heard as a ruler. “ It’s good to see the future talking to the past, Flamevein’s pretty thrifty in his talents.” Again, Eight never fails to fall short of normalcy, he never quite knows what to say.
∞ and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
 Plan? I don't need a plan! It's not that she thinks her sister needs her. It's not that she thinks she needs her sister. It's just that, given the opportunity, it's more fun to be around her sister (generally speaking) than it is to not.
But today, Val's gotten herself truly and properly separated from Thorny. You see, they woke up together this morning, but then Val got distracted by this strange noise. She ended up following it for quite some time (and learning a whole lot about the geography of the Valley in the process). As it turns out, it was a bird, but she only discovered that after she'd fallen down several hills to finally see it perched on a branch. Oh well, as they say, live and learn.
And by that time, Thorny had long since moved elsewhere, and Val had set it in her mind to take up a new quest and seek out her sister. She'd been on that ever since, finally tracking Thorrun down within the broad confines of the Valley.
She instantly notes that her sister is not alone, but talking with two horses she's never seen before. This doesn't especially concern her; Val is the opposite of a fearful child, and she has no doubt that Thorny can take care of herself. Not to mention that her sister looks entirely unfearful. Thorny might be a naturally composed child, but Val knows her well enough to know when she thinks she's threatened. And this is definitely not one of those times.
She arrives just in time to hear the stallion with the wings and the horn introducing himself, and she marches up to join the group with absolutely no hesitation. It would no doubt be completely obvious to both Flamevein and Eight that the two girls are twins. They look the part completely; the only difference one to the other is that Thorrun inherited her father's orange eyes, whereas Val inherited her mother's brown ones. There are of course more subtle differences under the skin – where Thorrun is a copy of Covet with immortality and mind blocking, Val is something else entirely, a strange tomboy thing that thrives off of putting herself into danger and surviving. It's a power she doesn't even know she has, not yet.
She looks both Flamevein and Eight up and down with an appraising eye, a comical and confident thing for one so young, but she's never been shy or retiring. "You're Flamevein." she says to the first stallion, the one without the wings and horn. Then she turns to the second one. "Nice to meet you too, Mr….?" she is looking directly at Eight now, her yearling head tilted, clearly expecting his response. It's not quite the brash "NAME" demands that had characterized her younger years, but it's just as charming, just as adorable, all in its own way.
And then she snorts, settling her weight on her left side and cocking her right hindleg, utterly relaxed. "I'm Valkerine."
VALKERINE!
| | Skeggǫld, Skálmǫld, Skildir ro Klofnir | Thorunn knows the second stallion that approaches. Well, she knows his name - she's seen him before. Father pointed him out once when they were walking through the kingdom. That is Eight, he is the king, he told her. She didn't really understand what that meant - what is a king anyway? What is a kingdom? To a child without worldly experiences these are just words without true weight or meaning. As she grows older she will understand - hierarchy, duty, honor, all that. For now she's just shy of a year old, a twin of an outspoken child, and the daughter of two very important Valley horses.
Not that she knows any of that, either.
"That's Eight, he's king," Thorunn tells her sister knowingly. They love each other deeply, that much is obvious, but their friendly sibling rivalry is not about a lack of love. It's the typical sort of nonsense you see from children, twin especially. Thorunn is a few moments older than Val. Thorunn DIED when she was born but came back to life. These are little things they hold against each other, but in a playful way. Val will be quick to point out she knows more than Thorunn (because she asks, and she is adventurous) and she is closer to Mother than Thorunn is. And despite how much she acts like she hates being called Thorny, she'll rue the day it's replaced by her full, cumbersome name.
"Father told me," she adds, in case the king wonders. | | Thorunn | | immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |
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