Cerulean Cape if i had a voice

She could not win against her brother, who indeed was as wild in his own way as she. He did not back down, and so she laughed something booming and low as he did. He referred to her by an old, girlish name her family had once called her, lítið valmú. Such references hardly bothered her, for she was once and always would be that girl. The poppy girl she had once been had been rebranded in fire, her hringja pushing her into the role she was now.
The rest of his words bring a smirking grin to her features. She knew very well she was a wrench in whatever plot they had. Do not get sentimental on me, brother mine, she said, and playfully growled as she snapped her teeth in the air, mostly for the enjoyment of its nasty sound. You and Solpallur have a plan for this place of ravens, and I want to know it, she prodded him with words alone. Valmúa wanted to know everything.