and like a star, she fell

@Ragnar as you wished!

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Freya gasped as her head lifted from the earth, her yellow and green gaze wide as she gulped in air greedily. Her freckled nose crinkled as she felt her tongue roll against her teeth, catching the taste of blood. She blinked rapidly as she tried to piece together her thoughts and her memories, her stomach queasy as she lifted her gargantuan form to her pale paws. Freya swayed ungracefully, her head swimming as she blinked. The nordic woman could not understand what had happened, her brain quiet and loud all at once as she could recall the sounds of clinking teeth and desperate calls of her name.

"Gods," Freya murmured as she swallowed thickly, swallowing some of the blood that had pooled beneath her tongue. The woman could not stand still as she tried to brace herself on her thick paws, her pale shoulders bunched up as she bowed her head towards the earth, begging her Gods to soothe her as she tried to gather her memories. She was unaware of the splattering of blood across her face, adding to the brown freckles she held already, the goddess painted in the tells of war.^^

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The north was colder, but not calmer. It would have been far easier to life southward, where the land was far warmer, where the larger herds of smaller deer strode. But here the land was a harder bunch, where the moose and reindeer took much more able bodies and much more strength to hunt. Where the sea life held giant tusks and moved along icy cold glacier waters. Ragnar was far too stubborn and too proud to live an easy life.

So the fighter remained and still with war to come. He breathes deep the crisp air, the howling wind through his golden and blonde fur beckoning him on. To what he wonders, or to whom.

Her single word carries with the winter wind, his teeth clench. “They are not answering today, ” The words grumble from his dark lips and the man moves nearer to seek the source of the word 'Gods'. He finds her for the fog could not hide the behemoth of the woman long. Could not hide the scent of blood which speckled her face as her freckles did. “What war do you fight today?” With blood on her face but no kill and no wounds he could tell, Ragnar's scarred brow rises curiously, his icy eyes ever watchful.
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No answer came, no divine intervention whispering in her ears as she so bade but instead the silence followed. Freya inhaled sharply as her belly still churned with the feeling of sickness, her mind swimming as she balanced herself with the pressure of her paws against the Earth. Still did blood pool in her mouth and she curled her lip, spitting the liquid upon the ground as a voice confirmed what she had already guessed; today her Gods were silent. Leaving her to figure things out on her own but perhaps they had not left her entirely alone, instead of them they had placed before her a wolf.

Freya peered up to the man who owned the voice, noticing immediately that he too was coated in blond. He asked her what war she was fighting today and Freya lifted her chin as she bade her vision to clear. She saw many of him but smelt only one, her pale ears cuffing forward as she smile serenely upon the man she could not yet make details out of, "the war for my life, it would seem," the Titaness mused, her voice airy as she strung together the memories. The attempted-murder had felt as if it had been successful yet here she stood, alive -- disorientated, yes, but alive. Freya knew she took one or two down, her Guards having been in the fray with murder in their own eyes. Yet... they were not here. Only she remained, the lining of ones veins splattering across her face and coating her ivories.

"Not a war I like to fight often," Freya hummed as she watched as many became one, his outline fuzzy but no longer did he stand there as quadruplets. "Unless the victory prize was my life and a handsome man of blond," she could not help it, the goddess liked beauty and he held one that seemed so delicate with his soft colours but much like herself, she rather thought looking delicate and pretty was only the surface. She flared her nose as she stumbled, her brain still swimming despite her vision having mostly cleared -- save for some fuzzy detailing. ^^

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Her vision betraying her, foggy and unclear, the warrior princess before him stumbles as she tries to make sense of it and Ragnar steps quick forward, as though made to catch the woman if she were to fall. Alas, she stands strong, but Ragnar beckons her to sit as he does so and tips his head to the side and muzzle down in offering.

“Well you are alive, at least to what I can tell...” His head tilts and his neck crans to the side, then the other, as he looks her over minutely. Her blood stained face appeared to by the only mess of her. No wear or tear on the woman, fitted with plush furs and well rounded figure that pulled him to look on further.

“And I am here too.” One corner of his mug turns upward in smirk as icy pale eyes meet her swirling new spring depths. “Congratulations on your victory, miss...?” He applause and with it an open ended question in his voice, for the name of the victor.
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He swept forward in a courageous and courteous manner as if to catch her before she fell but she maintained herself, somehow, and she shot him a smile, bloody and toothy. Freya swallowed as she steadied herself, willing her vision to stop spinning as she settled herself upon thick haunches and immediately she felt grounded. Not completely, but enough that she wasn't overly swaying where she was.

She laughed easily and airily, her head nodding as she agreed, "yes. I am rather alive. Shockingly enough." Freya mused, wondering how she was alive when minutes ago she had been fighting for her very breath amongst bodies that had sought to keep her alive and bodies who sought to see her head hung on a boulder. Freya swallowed the metallic taste of blood against her tongue and she watched his smirk grow with his words and warmly she hummed, the approval thrumming through her as she smiled, "otherwise you make for a darling dream."

Darling indeed, with his blond fur and eyes blue as ice.

The congratulations went straight to her spine and she preened beneath the praise, her smile turning coy as she hummed her name, "Freya." The blood-speckled woman watched him, tilting her head as she requested, "and yours?" with a purr, wondering who the Gods had settled her in front of on the day of her rebirth. That's what it had to be, because she had died, she was certain -- or at least she had been terribly close to it but yet here she stood, alive and well if one looked past the dizziness and swaying. The blood would wash away, that was certain enough. ^^

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Ragnar had yet to meet another woman in this land with any kind of flirty humor. He had met the snarky ones, the arrogant and all business, the prim and proper... but this? He couldn't help that smirk to turn into toothy grin, mimicking the expression she had held on her features just minutes ago. It was different and Ragnar ate up every bit of it.

“I'm so grateful to put your mind at ease.” And comically chivalrously, he would lift a blonde paw to his chest then flicking it outward with a heavy dip of his crown in mock bow to her.

“Freya...” The name was a whispered coo on his lips and he takes a deep breath. His smile then is true, longing and pure.  “This was the name of my sister.” Although where she was, he did not know. Now, having woken with his children in this world he did not think he would see his sister again nor any other of his family and all which had made the Torbine Empire.

“I am Ragnar Stormborn of Northfall.” He pauses, a scarred brow rising, “What is your last moments before now? This land here is far unlike any place I've traveled before. There is magic, power and the Gods do not hide from sight here.” Another deep breath, he does not hide looking her up and down. “Many I've met had simply 'awoken' as I  had and once I'd seen a God fall from the heavens and into mortal form.” Whatever she would tell him, he could see himself having faith in it.
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Freya could tell when she had an audience engaged and engaged he was, grinning toothily at her and the tips of Freya's ears warmed pleasantly. It mattered not that she had woken, uncertain and brain fuzzy -- she could work her magic regardless. It served that he was a man who intrigued her after waking, he seemed pleasant enough and held a tongue of jest and charm that Freya was not feeling overly inclined to work him. He bore no danger to her as of yet and even if he did, the goddess could hold her own. She was of no desire to fight but instead she preferred his pleasant company, desiring to enchant him to remain pleasant and fetching.

Her laugh was light and warm, falling from her lips easily as he put on a show for her. Her pale gaze glistened with mirth as she tucked her chin towards her chest, putting on a show of a bashful lady as she purred, "a true gentleman. I'm ever so lucky to have had you find me first." Freya returned in play, her words drifting off with an warm giggle as she watched him. Oh yes, she was fond of this company indeed -- she had no time for the bores and the wretched, finding she'd prefer to play with the blond man who went on to say her name so lovingly that she need not question it for he told her why.

His sister bore the same name, his smile true and pure with sibling love. "I daresay I'll not complain to share the name if you smile the way you do when you think of her," the blood sprayed woman cooed softly, the train of thought leading her to her inner circle and where her closest friends were. Gone, she thought, taken from her like she had been taken from their world and though she thought that there was a possibility that they'd been brought here too, she had noticed that neither their bodies nor scent could be found in the near distance. Perhaps they were both missing someone today.

The man spoke his name and Freya couldn't help but smile in approval; his name fit him. It was strong and bold, fitting for the man before her. "Ragnar Stormborn of Northfall," the she-wolf repeated softly, tasting his name on her tongue so readily that she committed to her affectionate memory. He questioned her of her origin, telling her how others had ended up the same, in the foreign land with little explanation. He spoke of Gods and Freya smiled, it was secretive and it was hers, her pale ears cuffing forward as she thumped her tail on the ground.

She had been a wolf before. She had been a wolf a few times, a form that seemed to be the most common when she was reincarnated after her death and the life before this one had been a wolf, too. In fact she thought it must be the same life just a different universe. She'd not walk on two legs today, blessed with golden hair down to her bum and pale, freckled skin that seemed to glow softly. "In the moments before this, I was a wolf, fighting for my life as my loyal friends and guards sought to keep me alive," she divulged quietly, a small smile settling upon her lips as she cast her multicoloured gaze to the sky.

"Not always have I been wolf. Sometimes I can see Mount Olympus and sometimes I am but a mortal in their fields," she laughed then, prettily and soft as she recalled a particular sunset of frolicking through the long grass and not long after having her back on the warm ground and her love settling above her. Oh she had loved many, sometimes all at once and sometimes but one yet she remembered them all. With every death she recalled the love she had felt and she held onto it, knowing that no matter her form, love and beauty would flock to her like a beacon. "I daresay that the wolves of my home were not interested in seeing me retain my crown," Freya mused as she cast her cast back to the Stormborn, her tongue rolling across her blood stained lips as she tasted the life of the wolf she had been battling.

Freya stood, her vision regained and her balance stable. Easily she held herself with a soft confidence that drew her closer to the blond man as she blinked at him through crimson tinted lashes, her freckles both brown and red as she appraised him, "and you, Stormborn?" the once-upon-a-time Goddess cooed softly as she walked a half-moon around him, testing the waters as to how close he would allow her. "What were your moments before you woke here?" Freya did not hide the purr in her voice nor the curiosity, swinging her tail at her haunches as she wondered if he had any personal space boundaries at all. ^^

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I feel like this is the biggest post I've done in a LONG. ASS. time.

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Her magic was working and maybe in this equally magical world, she held a power of it stronger then she had ever before. She was no little and lithe woman, a pixie of delicate proportion and long legs, the many he had encountered thus far. No, she was an Amazon, a mighty war maiden if he had ever saw one and he was quite pleased with himself that he was here to greet her into this new world.

And she, too, as her laughter carried into the winter wind, seemed just as pleased.

He dips his cream muzzle then, in silent gratitude for her words on behalf of his sister. Freyja was his twin you see and for every moment after their birth they had been one together, to pieces of a whole. Two beings perfectly balanced to one another. As whorish as Ragnar may have been, it was perhaps only because he had yet to find a woman who could even match up to what his sister had shown a great woman could be. The closest had been Frigg, wife of @Sindri. Though even too her time with the family had been cut horribly short.

Ragnar would also not miss the smile which graced her blood splattered and freckled features as he mentioned the Gods. Her plush tail giving a thump to the earth which she had rose from. There was no mockery from her, no snide remark or rude laughter as he mentioned having seen a God fall from the sky. Many would think him bat shit crazy. Many would think him an absolute fool. But Ragnar, as it were, was much a believer in the Gods. He had seen them- heard their voices and felt their touch. The closed-minded ways of simple minds did not shake Ragnar from what he knew to be true.

And Freya here? Being named after a Goddess herself, it only seemed fitting she would hold such beliefs too. She were named after the Goddess of love and life, war and death. The epitome of strength and beauty in a woman and Freya held the name very well.

Freya went onto say then that before this, she was a wolf. Fighting against enemies with friend and ally to her side. The way she worded her sentence, it made Ragnar wonder if there was a time before when she wasn't a wolf. Had she been a God too? Or had she been mortal all along, just harboring the memory of life after life passed where so many others lost these memories upon their reincarnation? Ragnar was a visionary and he opened his arms to knowledge, greedily seeking answers where to many questions lie.

And then, an answering. Ragnar had not realized it, but he had been leaning into her every word, ears cupped forth and perked with absolute attention. “Those of this world do not cease to amaze me...I would love to hear tales of your past lives sometime, if you'd have me.” A murmured breath from his lips. Of course, this included her. There was though others which had only prickled the hairs on his backside and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Mortals. Wolves of nothing but dull and simple nature. Ragnar had been lucky to find a pawful of those otherworldly, knowledgeable, spiritual, boundless. @Ghidorah, the fallen God. Alduin with his Harbinger Dove, warriors and shaman who wore skulls over their crowns. @Krakarak, the raven whom was his loyal and one of his closest friends. @Valmúa, who in this world had somehow found connection beyond her species.  Thry had all tickled Ragnar's fancy. Freya here tickled far more...

“I am very sorry for your loss...” His golden ears fall and he sighs deeply, pale eyes moving off somewhere in the distance. His own most recent loss had not been far off and now war waded for her justice. “Perhaps they too will meet you here one day.” In this place- the afterlife, a new life, heaven on earth. Whatever it were.

With her lifting, he turns back, to watch her both sheepishly and both to make sure she was well enough now. She draws nearer, arching around, he takes a deep breath, stilled. “Not at all so glorious or magical as a rebirth, I'm afraid not.” He admits there honestly. “Once my children were strong enough for travel, their mother and I left my family's Empire. After the war and after her mate's death, we wanted our own settlement, our own namesake in a new place, a new land. We traveled for quite some time and then going down for the night, we woke in this realm. ” His head tilts, eyes washing over her and then up, past her. His muzzle just out, pointing to one of the many mountain chains around in various distances. “We found home in that northern mountain chain. With a love for the snowy peaks and the sea, the place seemed destined for us. Though good things do not come without challenge. Our little family has already suffered much loss since our awakening.” A frown, another deep sigh, his eyes cast away from the beautiful woman at his side.

Already when they had awoken here they lost a son. Then, not long after the settlement of a pack bordering their lands, a daughter murdered which in turn caused his only other son to vanish. With only two children remaining and their parents, the Stormborn House had become dwindled indeed. Ragnar had no intention of rolling over and playing dead, however. Not until he was dead and maybe, if he were lucky, he would have a valkyrie something like Freya here to guide him home.
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She smiled.

He had been enchanted, that much was true, listening to her words despite her not giving him too many details to begin with and Freya preened beneath his attention; easily falling into her rightful place. Ragnar spoke of hearing her past tales and Freya's lips twitched as she grinned then, no longer simply smiling but she grinned at him, radiant and warm. It was a sure way to keep Freya happy, really, eagerly desiring more from her. "I should think you would appreciate my tales more than most," the titan warrior mused, voice light and full of compliment. She could have woken up in worse company, she reasoned, and the blond man seemed as content in her company as she did in his. It was the positives she looked for. 

At his condolences, Freya's smile did not waver. "Though appreciated, your sorry is not needed," the she-wolf assured him with a confident tilt of her chin, her ears perking as she gazed at him. She wished for his own ears to not remain fallen, for him to be reassured that loss did not always remain. "They find me. They always do," more often than not, her full circle would find themselves at her side once again in each new life -- and those that did not, she would remain confident that soon they would find her, if not this one, then the next. "We are soul bound, forever will we be drawn to the other with nothing to stand in our way," Freya would not lose that confidence, for years and years had proven it to her.

The Stormborn allowed her to step into his personal space, remaining still where he perched and felt content enough to answer her. She laughed, softly and quietly as she hummed at his honestly, "it does not need to be magical to be glorious." There was something glorious about the mundane, sometimes. Her ears remained perked, eager to listen for his own story as she curled her frame to come to his side, her tail sweeping along her back as she gave an interested wag until it daringly touched along his side. Freya did not falter at the mention of a mother, taking note that this mother had held a mate all her own and Freya wondered if these wolves took after her in her favours. She drank in the rest of his story and cast her gaze towards where he spoke of his claim.

He left an Empire and found a new home in his realm in the northern mountains. He and his family had suffered losses, ones that he had not yet healed from and she watched as he peered away from her, a frown on his brow. Freya hummed softly as she reached over, if he allowed her, to draw her nose along his furrowed brow. "I am sorry to hear of your pain," the reincarnate cooed. "Often it’s the deepest pain which empowers you to grow into your highest self." Freya murmured with a gentle smile, wondering if the beast would see it the way she tried to paint it. "Your mountain will serve you well, Stormborn. A man of your calibre is not simply put on this Earth to suffer," she laughed then, as if the very notion was scandalous and silly all at once. "No, Stormborn. You are the type to rise, you will leave a trail of your ashes and you will do more than burn your enemies."

She was not often wrong about creatures, having an affinity for observing things in a way others did not and it was what others called intuition that served her a great purpose. Freya didn't waste her time with wolves who did not make her think wonderous things and thus far, Ragnar was not a disappointment. "Perhaps we might end up burning them together," she teased loftily but in her eyes held the truth that her tone did not. Freya was easily looked over when it came to battle, despite her size and muscle she was simply too pretty and somehow delicate, for others to associate with something so gruesome as battle. Her mind was sharp and not all sunshine and rainbows, after all, and having had Tyr's strategic mind at the core of their missions and operations, she had picked up one or two of his habits. Here, Freya knew her circle would find her. Here, they would bring forth their Kingdom again and once more a crown would sit prettily upon her head.

The she-wolf was not above cultivating potential allies, especially when Ragnar was actually quite pleasant to talk to. ^^

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Ragnar dips his muzzle downward, a paw lifting to his chest and outward in a flick. A silent agreement to his interest of what tales she may weave for him. And it pleases her so, to be listened to, as the smile on her features spread into a grin. He enjoyed watching her, listening to her and she enjoyed it all the same.

His ears, they perk higher in follow of her own. His paw settles to the ground again, head tilting just so as she goes on. They find her... She further intrigues him, if as at possible and his features of such intensity shows as such.

Soul Bound. It sounded magical all the same. Absolute. Poetic. Pure. Ragnar could imagine the relationship she had with these individuals would not and could not compare to any other she would hold in any other life. Each being she met, like himself, but faces in a single chapter compared to those Soul Bound to her.

No matter what life she led, in whatever world or whatever form, they were infinite. It was both a beautiful and daunting thought, terrifying even. Knowing they would always be there and yet, knowing they could never escape one another. Time could build their love for one another but their hatred all the same.

But now she is at his side standing. Her plush plum brushing along his side. And after a moment, her leathery nose moves along his hardened brow and he us soother.

The young king figures then even if he is just but a blink of an eye in her world, he would be happy for it. Even if he was but a chapter, a small memory for her, Ragnar hoped it to be a good one.

Ragnar hoped her words to be so, that Freya could breathe truth by these words. Nothing would be worse then knowing his daughter her died for nothing- that her strength and her sacrifice would be lost.

She, who had been content to be gawked at and lavished over, found it now so to build Ragnar up with her into that same light. She laughs and a smile silently pulls at the corners of his lips, his chin rising again, his icy eyes sharp on Northfall as he listens to her decree.

“Come with me then...” He finally speaks again. His words calm and low, though held a certain push, a hunger. “Stand with me atop Northfall. Fight with me and rise with me- you and your Soul Bound.”

He does not ask this question. He beckons he so, wills her to be with him. So that he might hear her tales of past lives. So that she may breath strength into him by her words. So that he might witness the uniting of Soul Bound spirits and find place somewhere in their newest lives. So that they may feast and fight and fu- ... celebrate their lives in this new magical world together.

He does not speak these things to her, but his pale blue eyes stare deep into the eyes of her self, yearning and eagerly waiting.


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Freya looked for the signs that one enjoyed her, enjoyed her company and was not having thoughts of being somewhere else and she saw it in the way his lips pulled at the edges to form a silent smile. Warmth spread through her veins and inwardly, she preened. Exactly how she likes it, she thought, the centre of their attention. It was even better when they thought of her when she was not there, she thought cheekily but alas, she had time to cultivate such a want.

He spoke, calm and lowly his words rumbling from his tongue with a sense of want. For a few moments she let him sit in the silence that stretched as she smiled, her multi-coloured gaze roving over his handsome features. They told her of his desires, that he truly meant his words and Freya softed as she drew a small breath and released, leaning forward to stand with him as she grazed her nose along his chin -- if he allowed her. Was it obvious yet that she was so easily dropping into physical touch? "You beckon me, giving me little desire to say no," Freya murmured as she pulled her head back, her pale tail giving a few soft wags behind her.

"I can go with you, Stormborn but I cannot stay with you forever," the warrior goddess stated softly, "once my they have found me, I have to walk a different path. A crown awaits me, their loyalty and belief in me as their crowned one cannot be thrown away." Would he care, she wondered, if she promised herself to him and his for a time, not forever? It could be many months or years until all of her Soul Bound found her -- in the rare ocassion she was born into a new life and she didn't find them, she would find them in the next. "Yet... I find myself curious of the idea that one day where I am not of your ranks but of your allies," her lips shifted then, smiling secretively as she cultivated the prospect of possible alliances between Northfall and her future.

Freya liked the idea of spending her time with him, with Northfall, as she waited. She knew in that time she could be useful and have her fun, too, and perhaps one or two of her Souls might find her there. She hummed lowly as she drew her head to the side, simpering, "what do you say, Stormborn? Will you still have me for an undisclosed amount of time?" He had stated his desire for her to join him once and she wanted to hear it again, if he meant it, even now with the added information.

The titan warrior would wait, breathing softly as her blood thrummed in her veins. ^^

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The silence between them lingers. Though his head remains straight and forward, to Northfall, his pale gaze is cut to the side- to watch her duel-colored eyes linger, to see her smile, to watch as she lifts her nose to brush it along his chin. He allows such touch in his want for her. However he does not want to appear foolish and off guard. His body tenses slightly, prepared for a strike and to retaliate should she wish to test his senses and strength against her own.

Perhaps later, after her journey and rest. She says she could go with him, then...

But she could not stay. With the founding of all her soul bound, she was destined to lead them as she had over the life times. She was forever their queen and so a queen she must become.

Then she spoke of allies, that even when she founded an empire all her own, she might not just leave him all together. Still, Ragnar knew that whatever time she spent with him might seem very little to her, but all a life time to him. So, he agrees with a sharp nod and smile unwavering. Ragnar did not know how their future might play out and how long or little he may have her, but the uncertainty of it all was thrilling and addicting. 

“I will have you so long as I can.” The young king speaks his agreement aloud. “And with the favor that one day our two empires will ally, to fight, hunt and to celebrate as one.” And with this he shifts to touch his golden blonde torso into her own. “Allow me to escort you to your new home then, Freya.”
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