Sleeping Dragon we met over a small earthquake

Once Thuringwethil caught on to the scent, it doesn’t take long to track her down. The scent leads to the borders and when she sees the other woman, she slows to a stop to let the viking close the distance between them. She closes her slate eyes when she’s close enough, nose to nose, and she gently strokes the length of her stay. Her shoulders square up but she keeps her posture loose, never quite able to shed the crown.

Gyda speaks first and she rests her gaze upon her features, soft and enlightened that forms a smile to her. Her name shortened she reserves only for Gyda. “I know,” she tells her, a smirk and playful depth behind her eyes. There has been little time Thuringwethil’s been able to look at her friend as something more than her queen but she knew it would be limited going into such an endeavor together.