Astrid makes a noise, a kind of strangled laugh: โCould yโimagine? Being able to cut yourself in half anytime youโre lonely and just want someone to talk to.โ
Itโs not meant to be mocking or irreverent, though, just warm and familiar: this is the kind of story that her own people would have told around the campfire, too. โDo you think of Death as a hunter, then?โ she asks, musing, and looks over to their pile of belongings on the lakeshore.
Her bowโs sitting there, as are her hunting knives, her Thousand-Cut Blades. It pays to stay armed and prepared out here, the Blasted Hills carrying dangers from both wildlife and darkspawn. To her, Death is the sky, but this doesnโt sound too alien either. The knife to the aorta. The arrow buried in the throat.
man she would LOVE kindred and also the freljord
Itโs not meant to be mocking or irreverent, though, just warm and familiar: this is the kind of story that her own people would have told around the campfire, too. โDo you think of Death as a hunter, then?โ she asks, musing, and looks over to their pile of belongings on the lakeshore.
Her bowโs sitting there, as are her hunting knives, her Thousand-Cut Blades. It pays to stay armed and prepared out here, the Blasted Hills carrying dangers from both wildlife and darkspawn. To her, Death is the sky, but this doesnโt sound too alien either. The knife to the aorta. The arrow buried in the throat.