#▐ ⋮ ❧ } Hugrunar .

[brynhildrromantia]

💥

🐝  *  ―  𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊  𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄.   (  send  in  a  symbol  to  receive  a  drabble  or  meta  about  a  muses'  memory.  )   💥 ― a memory you wish you’d forget.

⠀   ⠀⠀Brynhildr, was once a prideful woman. In her life alive, so prideful she was. Her own father Odin scorned the existence he had created from the corpse of an alien long ago. Where her second Father - threatened to take what she had from her. Monopolizing her beauty, blood, and the presence of her existence. For the betterment of his own governing's or glory. All of her had always been questioned, but she held a pride about her. One that made certain to the world, that she knew her value in life and understood her own worth.

⠀   ⠀⠀ The Fallen Valkyrie fought her entire life to be a force one would reckon with hell, if they even so much as tried. Present as a warrior equal to all that she stood before, those men and women she had wrought to the halls of Valhalla. None could see her for any less than what was around her, so she imposed. Yet there many of  those who walked this realm, with mal intention and harm unto her. As if her kindness, humble like position, and strength were threads to tear apart in a cruel fate orchestrated by their own doing. ⠀   ⠀⠀One she foresaw, and could have no chance in undoing. A memory she can never forget - and yet wished she could all the same.  ⠀   ⠀⠀It is in the climax of ones folly, and demise. That we question the point of ones existence and even one with so much Pride as she. Even, with as much care she held of others and the world all about her. Attempting to orchestrate her own good fortune, but knowing well malicious energies had it out to reel her into their own hands. Even she, who had stalled this ending by swearing an oath unto the world to marry only the one who jumped forth the flames she crafted. ⠀   ⠀⠀Even she, in a fit of despair. ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀Wanted nothing more than death; ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀ as if it were her only sweet reprise. ⠀   ⠀⠀It was a memory that is chained back in the confounds of her heart, a memory of which she were chained in. Chained by the family she had wedded into, for she had tried so many times to take the lives of others. Frankly, even of her own self. What was there for she to do, when everyone had taken so much from her despite her own attempts to stall and live humbly. ⠀   ⠀⠀In this memory, she settled upon her bed. The one she were forced to sleep with another man in. Knees pressed along the cotton, hand crafted were the quilts beneath her. Thrown in disarray of course, for she had no care to dally her bed or herself for that matter. Even when the attended maids would attempt to do so, they would lose will all the same. Will to care for the other, and a will to live. ⠀   ⠀⠀In Pagan practice, Rune magic is derived from the weight of words coming into construction of the world. What it is you say, becomes. What it is you will, confers. Then, to be a daughter of Odin - the Allfather who hung from the tree and learned of these Runes. She of all people, when words would breathe unto the air. Had such power over them, conscious or otherwise. ‘Twas the capacity of a woman such as her, to speak of her misery and damn the whole essence of the world around her. ⠀   ⠀⠀In this memory, she wept for days. Weeks, and months. Ate so little, that she looked decrypt and far too ill to be that of a wedded Queen to Gunthar. So destressed by the way she willed her misery into existence, that the whole castle wept beside her. Wept for it to end, and felt themselves overwhelmed by boughs of depression. ⠀   ⠀⠀Gunthar could not stand it, from shame of how his wife were now. From annoyance with how he had no control over his castle. From anger, that he could do nothing to attend to this wife he had wedded. In desperation he had reached for his sisters Husband, Sigurd. Having used him so much so far - he had figured what harm would bring about it, if he asked the man for help. If he had used the man, once again. To do as he willed. ⠀   ⠀⠀When he spoke to Sigurd, he tired his will about his ‘demented’ wife. How she spoke of a broken heart, how she spoke of lies, how she stated and placed into rumors that Sigurd had slept with her and thus shamed Gunthar for it. That even Gudrun through aggravation of her own self, shamed Gunthars wife by naming her no less a courtesan or whore. ⠀   ⠀⠀That this weight would be the founding for tragedy, of which to Brynhildr’s orchestration and desire. For if she were to suffer for so long, and as she had so far. Then all would know of her sufferings, and all would be cursed for it. No longer were she a woman with an ego of self, that Pride she once had. Had been now gone, and taken from her. Stripping values of her existence one by one. Shaming her from the inside out, so the ugliness of others actions stained her skin like matted pieces of clothing she could not take off. ⠀   ⠀⠀Words no longer mattered, truth held no weight. Runecraft or not - when it is the words of people who tie your own tonged into lies - you can do nothing but help them create. ⠀   ⠀⠀ ❝ I am no simple woman - I AM A WARRIOR! I lead PEOPLE, I fight WARS at the FRONT. I teach MEN how to speak the old magic, I teach WOMEN how to fight up in arms. I am not this woman you speak me into existence -  ❞ ⠀   ⠀⠀So she claimed the last of her pride in this broken memory would say. Yet speak they did, Gunthar ushering this ugly image of her. Gudrun stating she were no less a whore. Their mother fostering rumors of ill makings, into the ears of others. The huns and their forced decisions onto her life, demeaning her as nothing less then a woman with status to be shipped away. Her own father cursing her to know the life of a human. Yet it would seem, he had cursed her to know naught but the tragedy of one. ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀In this memory... ⠀   ⠀⠀Sigurd answers Gunthar’s call, and in the last attempt at anything salvageable. He broaches the misery, and for a moment the castle is silent. As their eyes would meet one another. Eyes of which that had been searching for each other for so long, a love that was ever lasting.  ⠀   ⠀⠀ ‘Will you cease, the ache of your heart?’ It begins, Sigurds words warmed and humbling as always. With care in his expression, etched into the situation. With himself completely open and bare for whatever repentance the other may have will upon him. She is there, staring down at his figure. While she is chained - shackled onto the wall. As to not move from her position, less she find her hands ringing around the neck of servants. ⠀   ⠀⠀ ❝ I will not. ❞ Was Brynhildr’s only answer, in the heat of the feelings. In the misery of her demise. The way that others had orchestrated her life unto this very position - moment. With no care or will of her own wants, none of it mattered now. She had suffered a tormentous life, and from here on she would do naught but act out from it. When she had spent so long, calmly doing as she would as a woman self sure. With a healthy dose of pride, and an ego that knew its value. Now, broken - the world be damn’d. ⠀   ⠀⠀When Sigurd heard of Brynhildr’s refusal, he attempted to salvage further what he could. Made promise to her - made her know twas not of his fault in doing. That he would gladden to stay here within the house of Grudun and Gunthar - but know that the love they hath of each other were true. ⠀   ⠀⠀Why would you say this - the feeling screamed inside of her stomach and trashed into her mind. When her own sanity had dipped as it were, and she attempted to find logic in the tragedy. When there was none, her mind thus continued to break. ⠀   ⠀⠀ Therefore the more that Sigurd spoke into airs of his desire to mend what this tragedy were. The more Brynhildr found her senses melting farther into an abyss she would never be able to have again. Sigurd spoke of the marriage Oath he had with Gudrun, and her own insides felt like nails creasing into the muscles wishing to break out of her skin. Her eyes wept, but her expression emotionless. He only could read the feelings she bottled from her eyes. Furious, and gleaming - nothing he said would reach her. Yet he tried all the same, and tried once more by saying: Let us run away together then. ⠀   ⠀⠀There was once a time mayhap this would work, but all was gone and forsaken now. Time had run its course, and it was far too late to save what was their relationship in this life. ⠀   ⠀⠀Sigurd too seemed desperate in all that he were to do what he can, but in the mind of Brynhildr she had lost so much. To see the man she swore herself to, the man she bore a child from his seed. In this manner, desperate for her and desperate to undo this tragedy that seemed to have no end. ⠀   ⠀⠀Twas then, she found will to end it all. Even herself, but also all of this castle and the people within. Together they would suffer no more. ⠀   ⠀⠀ Sealing the end of this Tragedy, and assuring its doom. Her own mind is lost, in the will of the moment. In the control of despair, where hope no longer will ever find her. ⠀   ⠀⠀Brynhildr’s own face cants slightly, though her eyes do not leave him. She makes sure, that Sigurd knows. Yet she seems lull’d, much like a doll entering a sleeping state. Unwanted, and with no life upon her. There was no going back from what she would speak into his ears. ⠀   ⠀⠀How could she explain, how wrong the world had treated her. The people upon it had damn’d her - to ignore it all for the sake of love with he. Would be as if she would deny all that suffering she endured. Brynhildr could not, that was the simple reality of it all. ⠀   ⠀⠀Unable to find the words to tell him the full truth, exhausted by everything that were her miserable human life. The once Valkyrie could not find it in herself to let him know how she truly felt. Could not will herself to speak anymore then what reason she had so far. As such, with such melancholy, she breathed into the airs.  ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀ ❝ I do not want you, nor - anyone else. ❞ ⠀   ⠀⠀After she said this, she broke his heart. Broke his body physically. Broke what little left of her own ego and pride she had - and then, she orchestrated the castle to be set a blaze. Much like where their relationship had started. When she were encased in armor and surrounded by flames. So too had now been this castle, and at its center the bodies laid. With her own right after, dead they all were and dead was she.

⠀   ⠀⠀ ❝ .... I wish to forget that moment in my chambers, shackled up by Gunthers desire.... Wherein Sigurd came to speak to me.  Though - I do not regret, what I had done in this memory.... ❞ A pause, ice cold eyes come upon the questioner, ❝ However, if I were to forget it, maybe then. Could I over look all that had overwhelmed me.... As I am now, a Servant? Maybe... I would not be so broken in origin...... All the same - I am no coward. To not face what it was my actions had orchestrated... Though... ⠀   ⠀⠀ I have one regret; ⠀   ⠀⠀ ⠀   ⠀⠀ that I had not still told him even then. That I loved him.  ❞

[brynhildrromantia]

@veiliisms​​

⠀   ⠀⠀  ❝Master... If you do not utilize me as a weapon.... You will surely bring about your own demise.... Without you here, I too will disappear.... Let me fight beside you...❞ Her voice is slow, and even measured. The enemies before them seem to be hesitant as the heels of her shoes clatter along the concrete floor with every step. The silence and pause of what was to come - rode on the actions the two outnumbered would make.

[brynhildrromantia]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  [ … ]   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄,

bold what applies - italicise sometimes - (*) equals tag ramble.   repost,  don’t reblog.

fights honorably / fights dirty

prefers close - quarters/ prefers range

chats during / goes silent

low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance

attacks in bursts / attacks steadily

goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively /strikes first

is provoked easily /provokes their opponent/ teases

gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking

uses strategy /focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle

rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging

fights wildly /fights calmly/ fights apathetically / fights with anger / fights with excitement

fights because they have to / fights because they want to

fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another

prefers a blade /  prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow / prefers a shield / prefers a personalized weapon / prefers magic (lightning) alchemy or spells

their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional

transforms for battle / fights as they appear

relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed

uses everything they have /proceeds with caution / hides their full potential

exhausts quickly /has high stamina

behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities

uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength

avoids civilians / strikes down civilians

damages surroundings / avoids damaging surroundings

signature fighting style / makes it up as they go

mastered skill - set / learning their skill - set

fancy footwork / sloppy footwork

messy fighter / elegant fighter

accepts defeat / refuses defeat/ begs for mercy

compliments their opponent / insults their opponent

uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves

prefers to dodge / prefers to block

defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable

uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method

plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy

waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready

fears death / fears pain / fears killing

has ptsd  / avoids fighting

has lost a fight / has won a fight

has killed / refuses to kill

wants to die standing / would succumb slowly

tagged by: @noircisaint tagging: @mysticallities (Mona), @aecorus , @fatumservis​ (Freyja)

[brynhildrromantia]

❝ touch him again, and i’ll kill you. ❞

⠀   ⠀⠀The woman is covered in blood, it stains along her beautiful dressage. The one that had been carefully crafted by the help of her Lover, and sisters. She had one that had been a bathing suit, detailed and fashioned to look alike a wedding dress. Then on the other end, and a funeral gown to match certain occasions. It had been the Wedding like Gown that she wore, now dripping excessively with a welling of Siegfrieds Blood. ⠀   ⠀⠀It had been the late hours of the evening, a cusp into the morning light. Much like how Gawain's own power wanes with the rising of the Sun, or Astolfo's own sanity is gained by the eclipsed moon. Brynhildr's own sense's waxed accordingly, and by Midnight she were the worse of her curse and by the morning. The woman she had ever hoped to always be. ⠀   ⠀⠀❝ I am.... Sorry.... ❞ The absolute volatile anger painted along Gruduns face - no Kriemhild, had even stirred the Valkyries own heart. As if Odin himself had peered down upon her from the heavens, feelings as if he were ready to cast her out once again. Broken, her father saw her. Corrupted, she were he damn'd her out of her home. That same feeling seem to dawn down upon her, with Siegfried there managed from her own actions and horrendous travesties. With his rightful wife, standing in front of him. Well ready to end Brynhildr's own existence where she were, ❝ I am sorry. ❞ ⠀   ⠀⠀Words are repeated, as she stands there with the chainsaw like sword. White robes stained with red hues of all sorts, a beautiful woman painted with blood by the horrors of her actions. She does naught but stand there, so much alike the robotic essence of who she had use to be. A dissonance of all the effort she put into becoming more than her curse, but now in the moment she merely were. The woman she could not escape becoming.