A breath. [open]

Thora's been training harder than ever, because throwing herself into training is easier than thinking about whatever is happening in her life. She isn't sure what it is, isn't sure she wants to know, and so she deals with it the best way she knows how: through fighting. Fighting is easier than thinking, is easier than feeling and hurting. When she's fighting or training, Thora is steady, calm, centered. She's where she's meant to be. But when she's still, she's full of doubt, haunted by a set of rough hands constantly trying to grab her, haunted by two pairs of nearly identical blue eyes: one laughing and one scowling. Swinging her sword is easier than dealing with any of that.

Come early afternoon, she's exhausted, her long blond hair soaked with sweat, and her muscles are screaming at her to stop. She obeys, knowing she's tired enough that she'll sleep dreamlessly tonight. She has some chores to take care of around her house anyway, and her weapons to inspect and clean, then an early dinner and she'll head to bed. Maybe she'll seek out Sassa, but she knows Sassa may be with her secret training partner, and so she doesn't want to show up at her mother's house if maybe Sassa has told her mother she's with Thora. It's probably better to wait for Sassa to come to her.

Thora's taking the long way home, walking down along the shoreline. It's one of her favorite places, and she needs the peace the sea offers. It's been a confusing couple of days. She sees the back of another woman and scowls for a moment, then thinks maybe there's something familiar about her. Hasn't she seen her on the training grounds? Thora tries to place her for a second then gives up, but can't simply walk past without introducing herself. There are so few shieldmaidens in Kattegat, she's intrigued by this one. She drops down into the sand beside the other, grinning widely and shaking her sweat-soaked braids over her shoulder. She knows the smell of sweat radiating off her may even be strong enough to overpower the fresh salt scent of the sea, but she doesn't care. "It may just be me, but I find fighting easier than thinking." She gestures to the girl's weapons, then to her own. "So if you ever get tired of thinking, come find me. My name is Thora."

Thora watched the girl with her eyebrows raised, good humor dancing in her bright green eyes. Thora is happy right now, tired and sweaty and happy, too weary for nagging thoughts to bother her. Mostly she had good days since coming to Kattegat; the only problem was the surly prince Ironside. It seemed he would continue to be a problem, too, but things seemed to be on their way to mending between them. She pushes those thoughts away, determined to ignore them, and wiped a strand of sweaty hair back from her face. She'd braided her hair back before leaving her house this morning, but her exertions had loosened it. She grinned at the small laugh that escaped the girl before her, and realized that this was a girl who probably already dealt with problems in the manner Thora had just described. Her advice was probably unnecessary.

She watched the smile flash across Hilde's face, saw the way it didn't reach her eyes, but that didn't bother her. Thora herself was that way sometimes. She was only just learning to be more open to people, Kattegat was a kinder place than where she'd grown up. She can practically see the girl before her realizing she's a shieldmaiden, and she just laughs. Thora doesn't care about her rank, all she cares about is having a place in the shield wall and a place to come home to. She has both of those things now, although admittedly she'd been frightened Bjorn wouldn't allow her a place in his shield wall. There's a part of her that still fears it, but she refuses to listen. They're learning, the two of them, to draw power from their pain, and it's a strange...connection they have. Thora does her best not to think of it most times, and now is certainly not the time for it.

"I come here on my way home from the training grounds sometimes. I love the sea. It reminds me of going raiding." The smile she gives her is a little feral, a little wild. Sometimes she longs only for the joy of battle, the thrill of watching enemies flee before her. The sea is the way to those faraway places, and the way home. The sea is peaceful when it wants to be, and powerful when it chooses to be. The sea is all that Thora admires: strength and grace and power. But she doesn't say any of that. "We'll have to spar sometime. I'm at the training grounds most days. They're still testing me a little, I think. When I'm not there, you can find me in the forest." She watches Hilde dusting sand from her clothing, but her eyes automatically go to inspect Hilde's weapons.

She grinned at Hilde, glad to have another training partner. Thora loves to spar, loves to fight. She was born for the shield wall. And she'd been on a few raids and managed to stay alive, which she supposed made her qualified to help train the younger warriors. She was far from the most experienced, but she was a good fighter, quick and strong. She sort of enjoyed teaching the younger ones, too. She could remember how thrilled she'd been to being training when she was younger, the absolute awe she felt when a proven fighter trained her. To see that on the faces of younger warriors let Thora know that she'd accomplished her goals, that she'd been right about her purpose in life. She's happy that Hilde has agreed to train with her, and she gives her a genuine smile. "I'm glad, there aren't many female warriors in Kattegat. We have to fight a bit differently sometimes, just because we're smaller and faster. It's good to fight against and learn from other women, as well as the men. But I'm sure you knew that already."


Then she's looking at Hilde's weapons, just because she loves weapons, loves to see the different styles of different smiths. She loves to watch the way different people handle their weapons, because everyone has their own fighting style and their own preference for weapons, and the two are linked. You can learn a lot by seeing someone's weapons. Hilde is concerned when she asks about her weapons, and Thora is quick to answer, to reassure her nothing is wrong with them. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with them. I just like to see other people's weapons. Every one is a bit different."

She waves her hand carelessly when Hilde apologizes for keeping her here, snorting. "I really have nothing to do except clean my weapons tonight, you're not keeping me. But if you're busy, feel free to go." Thora shoots her another easy grin, absentmindedly rubbing a bruise on her arm.

Thora can only grin, recognizing something of a kindred spirit in Hilde; a fellow shieldmaiden. Thora knew she was born for the shield wall, loved everything to do with raiding. She loved the sea because it was the road to raids and the road home after, the place that led to all adventures. It was strong and wild, it bent its will to no man or woman. That was how Thora strove to live her life: unyielding, strong, by turns gentle and wild. She loved fighting, the rush of adrenaline and the smell of fear and death, the way she felt most alive when she was fighting for her life. She loved training, challenging people far stronger than her to learn from, and teaching the tricks she knew to the younger fighters. And yet, Thora knew not everything about fighting was easy or thrilling. She'd known fear, real fear, felt her shield shatter on her arm and watched her companions dying. Thora knew the thrill of the shield wall, but she also knew the terror. There was very little about fighting that could surprise her anymore.

"Ah well, you'll soon see. My weapons and I are from Uddevalla, so they're a bit different from most of the ones in Kattegat, and sometimes I fight a little differently, too." She listens, eying the ax curiously as Hilde speaks about it. She realizes with a start that she's seen a style just like that: Thora's own ax is eerily similar. The runes along the edge are different, and the handle's wood is a few shades lighter, but Hilde's ax is unmistakably from Uddevalla. Thora barks out a short, surprised laugh. "You're from Uddevalla, too. Or at least, your ax is." She grins, excited. "It's a beautiful weapon."

Thora's grin fades a bit, her right hand lowering to stroke the top of her sword in its sheath. If you look closely, if you compare the size of the sword to the size of the warrior who carries it, you can tell there's a story there. The sword is a touch too long for her, heavier than the sword one would expect a shieldmaiden to carry. Her sword is a man's sword--her father's, and it's part of the reason she's in Kattegat now. "Weapons often come to mean something to those who love them." She pauses, looking quickly out at the sea to compose herself. "They not only give you strength in battle, they can remind you of where you came from and the people who love you. They have a magic all their own, I think." Thora knows she probably sounds silly, but she doesn't care. She's sure that if anyone will understand, it's Hilde. The girl reminds her a bit of how she was, when she was younger.