|The Chosen (beingthechosen) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2013-01-01 23:33:00
|Entry tags:||brynhildr, charon|
Who: Brynhildr and Charon
What: Random Meetings O'Clock
Where: Bryn's workplace
Warnings: Language, TBD
Brynhildr did not live her life by the calender the mortals did, but she was conscious of it. The dates held no meaning to her, but she knew another year had passed. All in all, it meant little to her but she smiled and wished them a good new year. She'd still gone to work, because some of the soldiers did not have anyone to wish them a good new year, or had no one to celebrate it with.
For one, that had been too hard. He'd chosen to leave the life and she'd stood at his side, telling him of Valhalla and how he would reach it because he had fought so bravely. To her, this death was still like dying in battle. Soldiers did not stop being soldiers, she'd found. It had taken a long time for her to learn that. She'd let his next of kin know before she'd slipped outside. The paperwork always grated at her, and these deaths weighed on her. They were wasted soldiers, every last one of them, because the country they had fought for did not love them in return.
She inhaled the cold winter air and wished for home, not for the first time. She only stopped looking at the cloudy sky when she felt the immortal nearby. Curiously she raised her head and studied the dark figure. Not Norse, that was sure. And she knew he would feel her too. So in greeting she raised her head. She was not one to press for greetings, being a solitary one herself, and while she was curious she would not enjoy being pestered with questions either.