Post by .:.Gambler.:. on Feb 1, 2012 21:08:56 GMT -5
Valkyrie
I'll be the death of you
There on the bluff stood the golden frame of an angel. Each of her features seemed to be etched from the perfectest of stone; each one seemed polished and buffered by thousands of workings. Yes, this was one of the maker's greatest gifts that stood here. Her body shown brightly, the moonlight glinting off of it as if she was an entity of the sun. Her mane shone like dew drops on the morning grass; twinkling and sparkling. A daft one might even mistake her for a lunar eclipse; her radiance outshining the full moon not to far from where she stood. Her eyes were the most radiant of blues; china and doll like. Nothing could be said against her beauty-for she was amongst the most beautiful creations ever to have existed amongst the mortals and gods alike.
But inside her mind, things were not so beautiful. No, her mind was not one of the maker's greatest gifts. Indeed, it was probably one of his greatest mistakes. Her mind was so twisted by the rage of her mother, that many good men had been condemned to hell chasing after her. All to condemn her mother's greatest mistake. All to get back at her mother; possibly bringing about the end of civilization as we knew it.
She had not a name; for through her mother's power she had been expunged from the history books. No; she simply went by the term that people feared her by: Valkyrie. It was not her name, but what she was. The amazon warriors of legend, the amazon warriors of the end. For in the end, who shall rise, but the woman mind. Men fought for peace, women forced it. The Valkyrie's trained worthy men near death for the final battle. They sent their lambs to slaughter so that when the enemy was at it's weakest, they could strike against. And yet, this lone vixen had undone centuries of work for stealing the list of names and killing them before their time; damning their souls to hell for adultery and other crimes of the heart. The sad thing was, that she felt next to nothing. No remorse for their death, no feelings of sadness for taking away their destiny. It was a way to get back at her mother for killing the man she had fallen in love with.
So yes. Valkyrie's existence was a crime of passion. The very thing she now stood against, keeping her heart locked away and the key lost in the ocean that her beloved had plummeted to his death into.And no matter how hard they tried, no one was able to pick the lock.
Now she stood, her mission nearly complete. She would be joining her beloved soon enough; for she would probably die on her march to Valhalley. There was no sense in denying it; she may have undone centuries work and put a stick in the clogs of her line's tradition-but she did not stop it entirely. It would continue, in it's pitiful ways, until the very end of time itself. Until the final war took place, and the Valhallians were finally victorious. But oh, the joy of thinking about it.
Her mother had no name in her own right; she had simply always been called "Queen." Time had been most kind to her; it seemed she stayed beautiful no matter how much time had passed. There was legend of time lords-perhaps she had been one of them? But even that was impractical; for even they had to age at some point.
Valkyrie was young still, in the eyes of her ways. She looked to be almost younger still in her features-the blood of Valhalley's queen coursing through her. She was not born of the standard way; no-Valkyrie had been truly a pure soul when she had been born. She had been given-not created. She had been the maker's gift to the Valhallians in the form of a filly. A deadly weapon, an aspiring leader. But then again; who was to say that the maker himself had not been responsible for it? Whose to say that she was not his flesh and blood as well...and it left the question, who was the maker?
In this newest world she had entered, there was no "maker." There was an army of gods and goddesses bickering and fighting and squabbling amongst themselves for some higher glory. Whatever the power struggle was, it did not concern the vixen. She was here for one reason only. One pure and simple reason: to kill the last name on the list; that of a stallion named Valek. She had studied him when she still lived at home; but not having the texts, not having the books, she would need to scout him out again. She would need to find him, study him, lure him away from anything that was ever good in his life, and slay him like a drowned rat before he could meet his destiny. But as she stood there, staring down the cliff face into the water below; watching the rocks tumble and hug the mountain side for comfort as they plummeted to their resting place amongst the graveyard of bones, she almost felt empty. If her task was finished, what would she do then? She knew the answer; but it was a suicide mission at best.
And in that single moment, that fleeting, horrible, wretched little moment, she looked to the sky. She looked back toward what she knew to be home-the floating islands of Valhalley. Somewhere up in the sky; always moving like a satellite, her precious home floated on, never to be detected. She would have to pinpoint it and destroy it. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. Nothing in this mortal world could compare to the beauty of Valhalley. Valkyrie was only a single piece of it-and yet her beauty far surpassed almost everything of this realm. Valhalley...would knock any living mortal off their feet and to their death. It's grass there was no greener; the taste of it no sweeter. Everything Valkyrie ate on this planet tasted like dirt compared to Valhalley food. And even Valhalley's dirt was sweeter; tangier; richer in clay to give it a saltier zest; than anything of this earth.
Her eyes closed, and she tried to remember everything about her home. The smell of the air, the taste of the air, the look of it, the feel of it on her cheeks...but she could not. In erasing her from the records; her sensory memory had been erased as well. Though she could remember that it was better than anything of this mortal earth; she could not see it. She could not feel it. She could not remember that exact taste. The exact warmth of the sun or the feel of the crisp breeze on her cheek. Merely that it had been truly amazing.
Her eyes were glazed over as she stared up at the stars, watching them twinkle in the abyssal black of the night sky. And it came into her vision; yes; still in that moment of things she might regret; a single shooting star. When she had been a child, her mother had told her of such things. Back when her mother still cared; back when her mother had still had a heart to love with. Yes, shooting stars were something to wish upon. And then it slipped from her lips, a simple wish, a very completely and utterly not Valkyrie killer wish.
"I wish, I wish upon the shooting star, for a love unknown to me. For something to break my chosen path and return me to a life I have feeling in again."
Her wish was spoken a decibel above a whisper. Her voice was stolen away by a gust of wind, as if some greater force might be kidnapping her wish to lock it away in a cupboard for a snowy day to laugh at.
And it woke Valkyrie up, in that instant, and her eyes lost their glimmer, and she looked determined once more as her brows furrowed. She would find this beast yet, and slay him. So that she may claim her mother's head. Taking a deep breath, she turned from the cliffs and padded a few steps away from them, staring down toward the valley; toward the trees. Distasteful wretched trees, nothing like in Valhalley. I'll find you, and I'll finish this finally, Valek. She thought, her mind set-knowing her destiny would never change, no matter how many stars she wished upon.
[/font][/color]I'll be the death of you
There on the bluff stood the golden frame of an angel. Each of her features seemed to be etched from the perfectest of stone; each one seemed polished and buffered by thousands of workings. Yes, this was one of the maker's greatest gifts that stood here. Her body shown brightly, the moonlight glinting off of it as if she was an entity of the sun. Her mane shone like dew drops on the morning grass; twinkling and sparkling. A daft one might even mistake her for a lunar eclipse; her radiance outshining the full moon not to far from where she stood. Her eyes were the most radiant of blues; china and doll like. Nothing could be said against her beauty-for she was amongst the most beautiful creations ever to have existed amongst the mortals and gods alike.
But inside her mind, things were not so beautiful. No, her mind was not one of the maker's greatest gifts. Indeed, it was probably one of his greatest mistakes. Her mind was so twisted by the rage of her mother, that many good men had been condemned to hell chasing after her. All to condemn her mother's greatest mistake. All to get back at her mother; possibly bringing about the end of civilization as we knew it.
She had not a name; for through her mother's power she had been expunged from the history books. No; she simply went by the term that people feared her by: Valkyrie. It was not her name, but what she was. The amazon warriors of legend, the amazon warriors of the end. For in the end, who shall rise, but the woman mind. Men fought for peace, women forced it. The Valkyrie's trained worthy men near death for the final battle. They sent their lambs to slaughter so that when the enemy was at it's weakest, they could strike against. And yet, this lone vixen had undone centuries of work for stealing the list of names and killing them before their time; damning their souls to hell for adultery and other crimes of the heart. The sad thing was, that she felt next to nothing. No remorse for their death, no feelings of sadness for taking away their destiny. It was a way to get back at her mother for killing the man she had fallen in love with.
So yes. Valkyrie's existence was a crime of passion. The very thing she now stood against, keeping her heart locked away and the key lost in the ocean that her beloved had plummeted to his death into.And no matter how hard they tried, no one was able to pick the lock.
Now she stood, her mission nearly complete. She would be joining her beloved soon enough; for she would probably die on her march to Valhalley. There was no sense in denying it; she may have undone centuries work and put a stick in the clogs of her line's tradition-but she did not stop it entirely. It would continue, in it's pitiful ways, until the very end of time itself. Until the final war took place, and the Valhallians were finally victorious. But oh, the joy of thinking about it.
Her mother had no name in her own right; she had simply always been called "Queen." Time had been most kind to her; it seemed she stayed beautiful no matter how much time had passed. There was legend of time lords-perhaps she had been one of them? But even that was impractical; for even they had to age at some point.
Valkyrie was young still, in the eyes of her ways. She looked to be almost younger still in her features-the blood of Valhalley's queen coursing through her. She was not born of the standard way; no-Valkyrie had been truly a pure soul when she had been born. She had been given-not created. She had been the maker's gift to the Valhallians in the form of a filly. A deadly weapon, an aspiring leader. But then again; who was to say that the maker himself had not been responsible for it? Whose to say that she was not his flesh and blood as well...and it left the question, who was the maker?
In this newest world she had entered, there was no "maker." There was an army of gods and goddesses bickering and fighting and squabbling amongst themselves for some higher glory. Whatever the power struggle was, it did not concern the vixen. She was here for one reason only. One pure and simple reason: to kill the last name on the list; that of a stallion named Valek. She had studied him when she still lived at home; but not having the texts, not having the books, she would need to scout him out again. She would need to find him, study him, lure him away from anything that was ever good in his life, and slay him like a drowned rat before he could meet his destiny. But as she stood there, staring down the cliff face into the water below; watching the rocks tumble and hug the mountain side for comfort as they plummeted to their resting place amongst the graveyard of bones, she almost felt empty. If her task was finished, what would she do then? She knew the answer; but it was a suicide mission at best.
And in that single moment, that fleeting, horrible, wretched little moment, she looked to the sky. She looked back toward what she knew to be home-the floating islands of Valhalley. Somewhere up in the sky; always moving like a satellite, her precious home floated on, never to be detected. She would have to pinpoint it and destroy it. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. Nothing in this mortal world could compare to the beauty of Valhalley. Valkyrie was only a single piece of it-and yet her beauty far surpassed almost everything of this realm. Valhalley...would knock any living mortal off their feet and to their death. It's grass there was no greener; the taste of it no sweeter. Everything Valkyrie ate on this planet tasted like dirt compared to Valhalley food. And even Valhalley's dirt was sweeter; tangier; richer in clay to give it a saltier zest; than anything of this earth.
Her eyes closed, and she tried to remember everything about her home. The smell of the air, the taste of the air, the look of it, the feel of it on her cheeks...but she could not. In erasing her from the records; her sensory memory had been erased as well. Though she could remember that it was better than anything of this mortal earth; she could not see it. She could not feel it. She could not remember that exact taste. The exact warmth of the sun or the feel of the crisp breeze on her cheek. Merely that it had been truly amazing.
Her eyes were glazed over as she stared up at the stars, watching them twinkle in the abyssal black of the night sky. And it came into her vision; yes; still in that moment of things she might regret; a single shooting star. When she had been a child, her mother had told her of such things. Back when her mother still cared; back when her mother had still had a heart to love with. Yes, shooting stars were something to wish upon. And then it slipped from her lips, a simple wish, a very completely and utterly not Valkyrie killer wish.
"I wish, I wish upon the shooting star, for a love unknown to me. For something to break my chosen path and return me to a life I have feeling in again."
Her wish was spoken a decibel above a whisper. Her voice was stolen away by a gust of wind, as if some greater force might be kidnapping her wish to lock it away in a cupboard for a snowy day to laugh at.
And it woke Valkyrie up, in that instant, and her eyes lost their glimmer, and she looked determined once more as her brows furrowed. She would find this beast yet, and slay him. So that she may claim her mother's head. Taking a deep breath, she turned from the cliffs and padded a few steps away from them, staring down toward the valley; toward the trees. Distasteful wretched trees, nothing like in Valhalley. I'll find you, and I'll finish this finally, Valek. She thought, her mind set-knowing her destiny would never change, no matter how many stars she wished upon.
