The Sunspire for those who've slept

she's not alone long, as seems to be the default in the wilds. hela twists to regard the silvered stranger that has come to interfere in her quiet solitude. hackles prick instinctively, and her stare grows hard. but once again there is that spark of familiarity, and then the memories that come at it's heels. this woman is no threat, she knows this clearly, and so deflates, though her attention remains firmly on her. 

a name does not come to mind, but merely the knowledge that she was once a comrade of her mother is enough for the fiery girl. the woman speaks, and her first instinct is to deny it. they're uninteresting, unimportant, and she has better things to do than stare at the heavens; she is a warrior, earth-bound and hard. but another memory comes to find, tinged with warmth and lighter things, and she swallows her pride. "yes." 

silence, then, as she carefully peels her gaze away and back to the sky, ever wary. "I knew about them once, I think. stories. I've forgotten." she does not know exactly why she volunteers this; only that it has been a long while since she'd been reminded of better things past, and does not want to lose the warmth the memory offers.