Bitterroot Valley you give out the glory of heaven, you give out the pain that is hell.

like berserker? gleipnir clarifies as she states that she wishes to fight like him into his chest. a definitive fighting style that was all brutality and brought only death. ...ok. he agrees after a long moment. though gleipnir rather enjoyed how she balances him he will not deny her what she wishes from him; simply because she wishes it. ironically, though, he has no trouble picturing her fighting like him; all fierce fury, ethereal like the valkyries of legend.

northern tongue too? more.

something primal swells within his chest at her next request; a hot feeling that gleipnir struggles to place as he realizes that she wishes to integrate herself more into his life. yes. her wardog croons in response, with stolen breath hitching in his throat — even though he suspects her request will only give him more reason to approach learning common as lazily as he has been. feverishly, gleipnir thinks, he doesn't care if anyone else can understand him. sakhmet is the only one that matters.