Fever Dreaming

The longer she stewed on the idea—though in actual fact the span of time they had stood together in the murky rain, was brief—the more confident Valkyrie felt about the idea of taking the title of High-Maiden for herself and assembling an army of her own faithful admirers (or so was her narrow-minded, childish perspective about such responsibilities), to bring the opposite gender to trial. It didn’t matter that she had not the art or profession to craft and brainwash her own daughters; it didn’t really seem important either, that there was no expert council to guide or expand her direction. In her own mind, the cocky Shieldmaiden had the lore and law established (she even had a goddess!), so it seemed reasonable—to her—to believe that the plan was perfectly flawless. Though she should have been concerned, even discouraged, by the other’s visibly negative shift in attitude, Valkyrie’s obliviousness to most everything outside of her own selfish agenda, was more than apparent. Her arrogance—supreme self-obsession—perhaps was a gift, more than it was a curse for she neither flinched nor flustered at the suggestion that the other mare was intending to leave. In fact, there was a subliminal part of her which realised her company seemed stuck, preying upon that vulnerability wholly; her neat, round hoof even slid her deceptively regal figure forward as the more cumbersome one hovered upright momentarily, just in case the need for a roadblock arose. “Oh… there’s a twig in your tail,” she pointed out quickly and thoughtfully before the other’s haunches gave way. A Shieldmaiden was pristine at all times… When a question lifted finally beneath the breath of a heavy sigh, Valkyrie smiled with surprising warmth. “To avenge the women of Loorien,” she explained steadily—as though feminism was the top priority in everybody's life. “—and the Rift, of course.” She was growing cold and her joints, perhaps, would stiffen and seize if she didn’t move on soon (such was the consequence of the exercise regime she’d forgotten); this presumption on her part was naturally exacerbated by the growing—impatient—desire to further her idea, impulsive though it was. There were things to do—goddesses to court and a kingdom to construct.

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