Ravensblood Forest run devil run

She appeared to have mumbled something under her breath that Ragnar failed to, in his inebriated state, catch. Ragnar, far too intoxicated to care let it roll off of his shoulder in an errant shrug not wishing to pay her any more mind if she was going to mumble under her breath at him. If she was what a valkyrie really was then frankly, he didn’t want anything to do with the females. He watched as she glimpsed over her shoulder, in his mind searching for Odin - unable to know that it was indeed who she was searching for. “Well go on maiden,” Maybe she wasn’t a valkyrie, maybe he was just so overwhelmed with ale and awe that it was hard to determine - minus the giant goat, of course - who was who. The female’s questioning, despite Ragnar’s general drunkenness roused his suspicion through the muddled and slowed confines of his brain, causing his eyes to narrow in physical display of this suspicion. If she did not know who Heiðrún was how did she possibly get into Valhalla the Pagan could not help but wonder. “How do you not know about Heiðrún?” He demanded brazenly, expecting an answer, unable to wonder if he was truly in Valhalla before the consideration that this could all be Loki playing a cruel trick on him re-surfaced.

It was not something Ragnar would easily put past the trickster God.

“Heiðrún,” Ragnar sighed with exasperation as if he were explaining this to an ignorant child. “is a giant goat who gives us warriors of Valhalla ale,” He glimpsed around his paws then in search of another fermented fruit before finding on and plucking it gently, just barely resisting to consume it himself, in betwixt his jaws and dropping it between them, nudging it towards her with his nose. “Drink.” He encouraged his suspicion attempting to offer him some fuzzy clarity.