Quietly she observed the proceedings, relishing in the warmth and weightlessness that had been brought alongside this new, glamorous, luminous deity - as, it seemed, did they all. The phenomenon was intriguing actually. It seemed rather convenient that their opinion of her was unanimously one of favour.
Coolness touched her side as the sickly child slipped away, but Valkyrie barely noticed (nor really did she care), as her ivory ears swivelled forward and her eyes found the uglier one, Kisamoa. The two massive creatures stood momentarily together: she, lean and light, he, murky both in body and behaviour. The good one and the bad one, the Shieldmaiden mused to herself, how cliche - though in truth she could bring herself to find preference with neither.
Words between the two were shared and though she strained each in figure and mind to listen, she was unable to hear the exchange. Then the finer creature turned to regard the sheep which lingered in her shadow, drawn like impressionable moths, to the flame. Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed as mention of Kisamoa’s feats to save the world was made public, and a smirk crossed her lips, for, in her opinion, there was nothing here really worth preservation.
Certainly not the opposition, whose number well outweighed the women.
As Hope’s voice trailed into nothing, the glowing orb which she’d never sought the company of (it clung to her like velcro, nonetheless), seemed to swell and quiver alongside her and the pale adolescent set a sharp glare upon it. A moment later it hurtled forward, aiming to collide a smart looking sun upon her shoulder, but the startled horse - limber and ever wary - baulked away and received instead an unsightly splat upon the left curve of her fair belly.
The Pinnacle
