Vignette: I cannot keep from singing.

[dagny]

The hiss of hot water running through the tap slowly muffled as the door to the master bathroom in Edgewood's upstairs closed. Riley had left the room and gone to shower, leaving Dagny standing in the now empty space staring at the door.

There had been an impact of the Ragabash's words. One that was still working its way through her mind. Echoes of past things, reflections and ripples of what was happening now. It was as though something terrible had happened, and the shock of it was still working its way into her system. For the moment, it felt as though the gears in her head had simply stalled.

To get them moving again, she took a step forward. It was hollow, mechanical. Another step. Eventually, the movement became natural. She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway quietly. Despite her weight and stature, when she wanted to, Dagny could move quite silently. The fact that the shower running would help disguise her sounds was a boon. She used the rails on the stairwell to further mask her departure. The people that she had sat with in the living room had gone. Grabbing her shoes, the Galliard stepped out of Edgewood and fast-walked toward the Bawn.

Halted by the vegetation again, Dagny curls her lip at the spread of Wyld preventing her from reachin the Caern. If there was any place she needed to go.. With a frustrated curse, the Galliard turns and tears her way through forms until she's lumbering in hispo around the full perimeter of the Bawn. The occassional Vine flicks out at her trying to grasp hold, only to be snapped at itself from the rumbling Fenrir.

Eventually, the signs of civilization fade away as Dagny gets further into the woods, separate from the bawn. Rippling up into Crinos, the Fenrir removes the giant hammer from its sling-home against her back. The grass cushions her knees as she kneels, holding the massive weapon's pole between her great clawed hands. Fur whisks over the blank spaces on her body where scars have taken over, stirred by a stiff breeze. A rough thumb pad traces the runes carved on one side of the hammer's head.

~My brother. Do you still hear me? Have you chosen to come back, yet? You are missed. And now I cannot even cross this space to visit your final rest.~ Her words are gentle, soft, despite the throaty mess that Mother's Tongue is. Laying the hammer in her lap, the Get digs a shallow trench in the ground in front of her. One wrist is brought facing upward, the claws of her opposite hand raking deeply through the fur and flesh of it. She extends her arm, turning the bleeding wrist toward the ground, where the blood drops into the soil. ~A drink for the mother, and for my brother's spirit. Take this offering, as my blood is yours. From now, until I pass into death.~

Once the wounds had begun to coagulate and heal, Spear-of-Huginn sat back and cradled the great hammer in her lap. She felt the strength of the tree as her back pressed against its bark. Felt the subtle shift and sway as its mobile branches made it adjust to the wind. Glancing upward, she began to sing. A long, melodic howl. Such as she was taught during her first days in the Hidden Walk.

And as she sang, she thought. She remembered. There were spaces in those memories that could not be filled, but there were enough memories that she could follow something of a timeline. Happy memories. Sad memories. Moments, perhaps out of place, but still in her mind.

The one thing that I remember so clearly.. that day on the hill, where I used your headphones and my necklace to bind our hands. One memory that has not been marred or broken.. And you want me to forget it? How..? How can I? I made a vow that day.

Her claws went to the tethers at the base of the hammer's stone face. There were various things tied onto the ends. Trinkets. Tokens of war, of joy, of memory. Two strands were dragged into her palm and she stared at what she had tied in the end of those strings. They were hammered, engraved with runes, and as smooth as she could make them. Two circlets of metal that she had worked so diligently to create. Blessed, even, by a friendly spirit who saw her request worth its time.

And now they had no purpose.

The song continued, higher in pitch, sadder in tone.


If you wish for your character to be privy to some of this, feel free to contact me. Otherwise, it is not to be used for IC purposes.