04-15-2016, 09:24 AM
I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
The war brought to to light that which Lagertha had neglected; getting to know her Sisters. Had she been better aware of their strengths and what they could do, perhaps she could have given more direction and turned the tide. But that is far easier said than done, especially when chaos beyond most of their wildest dreams reigned on the field. Having command of one’s self is vastly different than having command of one’s troops. So to avoid that kind of disaster again, she must make a serious effort to dig deeper.
First, with her warriors. Second, with the pacifists. Lexa falls into both, she believes, and while the gray Khaleesi isn’t looking for anyone in particular, the spotted sister is as good a place to start as any. She’s seen the girl’s peculiar armor - not quite like her own, but just as effective (if not more so) - and couldn’t identify what it was. When she spies the girl (always a girl in her eyes) standing along, Lagertha alters her course in that direction, walking at a brisk, but not hurried pace, and with a neutral expression. Perhaps she will be as amusing as her mother was.
“Lexa,” she says when they are within earshot, “how are you doing? And how is Larken?” She wants to hear the real answer, but… appearing empathetic is not her forte. It never will be. She has other questions to ask, too, but niceties must come first. She looks the girl up and down not only to see if she bears any serious injuries from the battle, and also to determine what effects sadness and grief might have on her. Those were the unseen wounds, and often the ones that need the most healing.
First, with her warriors. Second, with the pacifists. Lexa falls into both, she believes, and while the gray Khaleesi isn’t looking for anyone in particular, the spotted sister is as good a place to start as any. She’s seen the girl’s peculiar armor - not quite like her own, but just as effective (if not more so) - and couldn’t identify what it was. When she spies the girl (always a girl in her eyes) standing along, Lagertha alters her course in that direction, walking at a brisk, but not hurried pace, and with a neutral expression. Perhaps she will be as amusing as her mother was.
“Lexa,” she says when they are within earshot, “how are you doing? And how is Larken?” She wants to hear the real answer, but… appearing empathetic is not her forte. It never will be. She has other questions to ask, too, but niceties must come first. She looks the girl up and down not only to see if she bears any serious injuries from the battle, and also to determine what effects sadness and grief might have on her. Those were the unseen wounds, and often the ones that need the most healing.
Lagertha
Warrior Queen of the Amazons