THE LIAR'S WHORE
❝follow the path of sorrow and deceit. do not stray from that trail, lest you be lost in the havoc and madness that you and your brethren have created. It is kill or be killed. do not trust your companions, do not trust your brother...
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She hissed words of contempt at the keen needle that had previously pinched her skin. A bead of crimson blood bubbled from the small wound. The woman examined her finger and plopped in between her lips sucking the gore from her thumb.
The Allmother sighed quietly in reply to the colorful language that escaped her mouth. The female simply did not understand how the instrument was supposed to create something of use. "Are you aware of what you are creating?" The older woman questioned, her baby blue orbs watching the newcomer with strange intent.
"No, nor do I know the forethought of this invitation." Dark eyes scanned the room, her mind marked the windows in the room. Objects that could be made into weapons.
The fawn-haired queen expression darkened. "Why must you see malice in faultless actions, Skadi?"
Her colorless locks fell into her face, shadowing over her eyes. The corset strangled her lungs and waist, morphing her body into something it surely was not. Her spouse had requested her to at least attempt to wear one. After several days, she finally obliged. She had grown weary of his annoyed gazes.
"Have you forgotten what I am—what your people did to mine?" Skadi plainly inquired, her skin faded into its natural hue. A magnetizing shade of blue, jumbles of patterns appeared upon her flesh. Her scelera morphed to a disgustingly unnatural crimson. She simply stared at the article of cloth in her hands, her fingertips rubbing the fabric as she reminded herself of the pain she'd endured.
She somehow remained beautiful. Pretty in the way winter was. Lethal, its cold embrace would snatch away your warmth. For it lacked its own. It blinded your vision, it took what it did not have. Stealing the lives of the young, old and weak. No one could escape her grasps.
The Jotun's gaze landed on the flaxen-haired Allmother with the icy intensity of Jotunheim.
"No...No, I have not." Frigga paused, articulating her words correctly in her head. It seemed anything would set off the young god before her. She had not lived long enough to have patience.
The Allmother shut her eyes solemnly. Her lashes fluttered. "Let us take a break, yes?" She asked, even though it was certainly not a question.
Frigga had nothing but good intentions. She solely wanted to bond with the woman, it wasn't often that an outsider would marry the Vanir.
The goddess huffed silently. Her annoyance apparent, Skadi had no mother. No one had taught her the ways of women, nor did she ever wish to learn. Her life was better with a blade in her hand, and dire wolves by her side.
The whispers of the dead. In the forests of Jotunheim they lurked. Ancient bones telling heroic tales of their demise. Warning all those who did not have blue blood running through their veins to run. The forest ate people and left only bare remains of what once was.
