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☞☞☞☞☞>ᖇᗩGᑎᗩ< Iᐯᗩᖇ TᕼOᖇᔕEᑎ☜☜☜☜☜
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➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳TᕼE ᗯᗩᖇᖇIOᖇ➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳
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[injuries;; N/A|status;; single|doing;; hunting|mood;; alert|with;; alone|@the woods]
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Ragna stood at her parent's bedside with a blank expression, much like theirs. It seemed as though they were sleeping, and for a moment she believed it. The only thing strange was the paleness of their skin, they looked cold despite being the warmth of the room. And yet the room smelled stale and dusty, as if no one had been in it in a long time. All these subtle hints at the truth nearly brought her into reality, until the warm color of their skin started to appear as she imagined it had faded. But it didn't stop, the color grew brighter and brighter until small tongues of flame burst from all around their bodies. They grew larger and larger until the light filled the room and revealed their true resting place, a small ship, a death ship. As she tried desperately to scream for help and pull her father from his place he remained still, and no noise came from her mouth. Ragna gasped and gaged, all through the smoke and smell of burning flesh and hair. She had only just pulled her hand away from her father's arm when her own burst into flames, she wildly flung it as the terrible burning pain spread...and then nothing. Just darkness, her darkness. The darkness of her home, giving lie to the dreams of moments past. Ragna blinked her eyes several times, adjusting to the dark. She was covered in sweat with a wet face, it seems as though in a dream she couldn't hold back the tears. Or was it a dream? It was hard to tell memories from the lies her mind told her, but she was almost sure most of it was a dream. But the scars were real, she remembered as she held her arm out above her face. A terrible mangled scar reached from her left hand and nearly up to her shoulder, getting less prominate as it went up and the years went by. "But the dreams stay, they never seem to get any less vivid." She thought to herself as she closed her eyes tightly, but she couldn't sleep, not anymore. As Ragna stood up she pulled her sleeve down over her scar, the awful reminder of her past, and got dressed. She went from a tattered nightgown to her typical long sleeved top and trousers, with the usual leather armor over her torso and arms. He hut was single roomed, it had a cauldron for soup above a fireplace in the middle, a bed covered in furs in the back corner, separated with a soft branch woven screen in between, where she hung shields and weapons rather sloppily. This simple place was average here, and it was the last thing on her list of worries. "Why must the dark elves taunt me so??" She said aloud, with a notable amount of irritation in her voice. She was taught they were the bringers of bad dreams. Of course, when she was a child she thought the image of them in her mind funny, now she has much hatred towards the thought of such creatures. She made angry movements whilst sloppily gathering her weapons, not caring if she cut herself tucking her knives into their hidden "slots".
When Ragna left her hut she gave Asbjorn one last stroke of the ears and shut the door, she then took a deep breath and headed towards the edge of the village nearby. "I mustn't weep for the past." She told herself with a nod of her head. "Odin smiles on the strong." She added, though it felt more like a ritual everytime she thought it. As she made herself through the forest her expression hardened, she needed to focus on hunting. The forest was dark, without even the glow of the sky to guide her. She walked slowly, one step at a time as her eyes ajusted. The smell of the forest was enough to keep her mind off of what seemed like a problem that has just begun to haunt her, she never thought about it before. Now she barely slept, unable to escape the dreams. As the sky began to show a bit more light, or her eyes further ajusted, Ragna began working on setting traps for squirrels. They were what she ate most lately, other than the dairy products and bread she bought and traded for in the village. The pelts were valuable and there were plenty of them. She had set nearly ten when she finally accepted it was enough, content to go find water. She walked without a sound, hidden in the dense foliage. As she crouched to drink from one of the familiar streams, she looked not unlike a predatory animal, her eyes scanning her surroundings. She felt the ice cold water running down her throat and sat down, awaiting the small sound the traps would make when triggered.
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