01-13-2016, 12:03 PM
I am iron and I forge myself
Once upon a time, she stood at Brunhild’s side and met the Desert King and defended his heavily pregnant Queen. And then time stood still and hell broke loose and she never gave the sandy kingdom another thought until Scorch tried to send Cammie to take the throne. We all know how that ended.
No one’s told her that Vanquish has risen from the dead - she’s only seen Yael occasionally - and never had a real conversation with her. The Desert is too quiet (to her knowledge) to deserve a real ambassador visit. Or was it that Aoi went, and no one came to meet her? Either way, the Desert was relegated to unimportant in her mind. She had bigger fish to fry and there’s that little thing about an almost certain war brewing. You can see why a resurrection has escaped her notice.
The smell of a stallion in the Jungle, however, does not. Confident in her Sisters’ abilities to handle it (and that she is not the only one to notice that pungent, musky scent that tickles the edge of her memory), she doesn’t go charging down the paths like a rampaging rhino. The Jungle has a healthy population these days. Someone is bound to come across him - and they have plenty of protection if the man comes with malicious intent. Why is that smell so familiar? She runs through the various stallions she’s met recently and none of them fit the profile. Even going back - what, a decade or so? - she never thinks it would be the massive black stallion.
She is appropriately shocked when she finds Rhy leading a very corporeal Vanquish through the Jungle, with a little bay filly tagging along. Last she’d heard, the dragon-winged former King had helped Rhy out of the afterlife. But there was no mention of this world anywhere in that story. Lagertha’s look of surprise fades away to confusion, and then one of scrutiny. She stalks forward and, because this is her Jungle, pokes him in the chest with her nose. Yep. Solid flesh and bone. She looks up. “Huh. Isn’t that interesting...” After stepping back, she turns her gaze to the filly and questions her almost gently. “I know who this guy is, but who’s daughter are you?” The one thing she doesn’t do is keep track of who’s pregnant and who isn’t. She smells like Sunday, but Lagertha always likes to ask.
Her attention turns back to Rhy, flitting between her and Vanquish. With a little half smirk, she quips, “I’m sure you’ve been getting this a lot lately, but aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
No one’s told her that Vanquish has risen from the dead - she’s only seen Yael occasionally - and never had a real conversation with her. The Desert is too quiet (to her knowledge) to deserve a real ambassador visit. Or was it that Aoi went, and no one came to meet her? Either way, the Desert was relegated to unimportant in her mind. She had bigger fish to fry and there’s that little thing about an almost certain war brewing. You can see why a resurrection has escaped her notice.
The smell of a stallion in the Jungle, however, does not. Confident in her Sisters’ abilities to handle it (and that she is not the only one to notice that pungent, musky scent that tickles the edge of her memory), she doesn’t go charging down the paths like a rampaging rhino. The Jungle has a healthy population these days. Someone is bound to come across him - and they have plenty of protection if the man comes with malicious intent. Why is that smell so familiar? She runs through the various stallions she’s met recently and none of them fit the profile. Even going back - what, a decade or so? - she never thinks it would be the massive black stallion.
She is appropriately shocked when she finds Rhy leading a very corporeal Vanquish through the Jungle, with a little bay filly tagging along. Last she’d heard, the dragon-winged former King had helped Rhy out of the afterlife. But there was no mention of this world anywhere in that story. Lagertha’s look of surprise fades away to confusion, and then one of scrutiny. She stalks forward and, because this is her Jungle, pokes him in the chest with her nose. Yep. Solid flesh and bone. She looks up. “Huh. Isn’t that interesting...” After stepping back, she turns her gaze to the filly and questions her almost gently. “I know who this guy is, but who’s daughter are you?” The one thing she doesn’t do is keep track of who’s pregnant and who isn’t. She smells like Sunday, but Lagertha always likes to ask.
Her attention turns back to Rhy, flitting between her and Vanquish. With a little half smirk, she quips, “I’m sure you’ve been getting this a lot lately, but aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons