Frostfire Ridge the blood that runs through my veins is ichor not iron

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His explanation does not really give Thyri the answer she wants. As to the meaning of the word “toots” she is still in the dark on and she doesn’t like it. According to him, it is a greeting he uses for all females and she struggles with the consideration that she should be insulted for all females. Despite her trilingual fluency she can produce no translation for the bizarre word and that bothers her. She recoils with indignation. “What does it mean?” She demands next, correcting her earlier wording. Clearly, she was not clear enough in what she desires to know. A mistake she has no intention of repeating. Doll. She knows this word and her lip curls back over her teeth in a gesture that clearly states No. She does not like being called ‘doll’, either. He gives her his name and a shorter variation to address him as despite that she has not asked for it. “Skaði.” She tells him simply, as if she is speaking out of reluctant obligation to return the courtesy. Her mother’s goddess of winter is the first name that comes to the champagne and cremé beauty’s head and thus it spills effortlessly from her lips. It seems like a good enough persona to adopt as Thyri is not so trusting enough to give her real name and she sees no harm in putting on a performance as if the world has suddenly become her stage. It is a lie but he does not know that and she has no intention of leaving room for doubt.

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