Arrow Lake the more i fight

Hell didn't have a fury like a woman scorned; if the moment of truth would come knocking at her door step, awaking her senses and making her realize this was all a sick, twisted and vulgar mind game, things would definitely change. For bitter or worse. The midnight-painted female was impulse-driven and often reckless, making her a force to be reckoned with as she rarely would forgive ill intentions and never forget.

Through her yearling naivety she was awestruck and a little in love by his sheer presence, but the day would come that she realized that she was nothing more than a pawn, manipulated to harbour vengeance on the leader that she followed; not a god. One born from flesh and blood. Had she known Tyrr's partly Viking heritage and the game that he played, she would call him weak and unimpressive; just a simple shadow compared to how highly she thought of him now. Vikings were strong, especially her male brethren; they fought to the core by strength and not by chance and cunning alone. There was fear behind manipulation, fear to face a true opponent on a real battlefield. He was no warrior, only a coward who would run with a tail between his legs. Oh, if only Spectra knew.

Instead at this moment she was swimming in the river of innocence and drowning in a juvenile naivety. She was literally swooning by his handsomeness and felt honoured to meet him, God or no God. Desperation for attention and admiration for his presence, she felt a conflict of feelings surging through her body. All the sudden Spectra became aware of every hair upon her body; everything had to be perfect -- especially the way she looked. This want and need of vanity came with the desire to be seen as a pretty girl, one that was worth the mere glimpse from Óðinn. Although many things, Spectra was hardly shy and it translated into a confrontational directness as teenage hormones surged through her body.

He was a rock star and she was just a fun. One of the many fan girls he probably had; stand in line and pick a ticket. "The same just Óðinn who would ask a pretty girl out on a date?" Bulls eye, a direct question that she later on regretted asking. Her heart began to beat faster and her golden eyes were thrown into the distance, if she could swallow every word back into her mouth she would. But it was too late. First impressions weren't her forte but it was probably better to ask now instead of regretting it later and wasting a lot of her time talking about the birds and the daisies.