No Music

The days were long and the sun beat down upon the Rift’s shifting facets with such formidable fury, that the vast majority of Valkyrie’s enthusiasm to explore, had all but shrivelled up; in fact, she’d scarcely sauntered beyond the shadowy contours of the Portal region, for more than a week. There was just no motivation. Lethargically she lingered, bathed in the blotchy shade of one gnarled tree or the next, never quite able to escape the merciless humidity of every hour ticking by. Her coat was indeed thinning; it was snagging in the bark she leaned up against, shedding like fine snow in wake of her lagging stride and though the truth pained the woman’s proud, vain standard, her appearance was looking extremely dishevelled. The glowing orb still trailed her like a lost child and though its quiet effect was inexplicably soothing, an irrational stew of frustration and discontent, boiled increasingly in her belly. Time was passing quickly. Her Sisters would, no doubt, be returning to the pinnacle of Sunnmøre with their trophies, and she - stuck in this gutter world where all rejects were stored - had become distracted, she was dithering, well and truly muted of magic. Valkyrie drew a deep, long breath and held it, brooding in the moment over a multitude of wasted opportunity; she had no desire whatsoever to rot here. She did not belong; was not like them at all… At last she grew tired of wallowing, and ascending from the fetid swamp of laughable melancholy, Valkyrie took the spear between her teeth and began a slow trek west - a good bath was the first point of call, and the summit held the purest water around. However, as luck would have it, she stumbled suddenly across the path of another horse before much ground had even been covered. Pausing her soft step with some element of a smile straining her lips, the pale (mud-marked), Sister moved to catch his eye. “Hello there!” she greeted, feigning the appearance of good-nature as best her cold soul was able. There was fear flashing in the boundless darkness of his eyes, and a feeling of advantage was swift to bolster her posture. This time, Valkyrie cared little to disguise her preoccupation - she was growing impatient, lazy - and bright blue eyes deviated south to examine his gender; indeed it was there, lurking beneath the veil of his shadow. Excitement resonated through her core, buzzing, humming through the rising mania in her mind. “Mind if I join you?” Stark gaze had narrowed considerably, quite beyond her notice, and as her chin lifted through the air; the foolish, young hunter could barely resist the urge to ambush.