Biography
name meaning: goddess of battle and war. However, there's a bit more to her than this. she is called the "washer at the ford," because if a warrior saw her washing his armor in the stream, it meant he was to die that day.
A beautifully majestic she wolf sat upon the shore of a beach, her fur soft and shining against the low sun, its rays splashing against her thick and soft pelt, that had colors of white, grey, and brown so beautifully hinted against her silver ocean ice eyes, her fur flowing softly with the salty seas breeze, the soft high calls of the gulls echoing along the beach as they glided overhead. the scents of salt, sand, and the sea so warm and fresh, the sounds so crisp and welcoming, the tide going in and out, kissing the she wolfs snow white paws with every wade in. The feathers behind her ear a blue of the sky and the necklace of silver sparkling just as the sea did with the suns rays upon it.
The she wolf had no clue that she was being watched, deep in thought on her ancient pack's ways, missing them, but she had been cast out, for a reason she'd never say. Her fur shined and sparkled in the sunlight as the grey tribal markings over her body could be seen, marking her as a very skilled Valkyrie of the ancients, but her herself, being young, being fit and strong, yet her mind full of the wisdom of an elder. her attention though was flashed back into reality as her bright silver eyes jerked towards a voice, standing instantly, her fur slightly spiked. The voice was close and as her silver gaze shined upon a figure, the figure of a stranger, her fur smoothed over as she tried to seem less of a threat, the wolf had a kind approach, so she'd accept it, but she wasn't so trusting as to sit back down. Her gaze flashed as she examined him, his stance before looking to his eyes with a keen, observant look, as if her piercing gaze was searching his mind, his thoughts, but of course she couldn't, she was searching emotions, any indicator of aggression or intentions, but broke her gaze after a long stare to dip her head, flicking an ear, "hello..."
Breeding Info
N/A
| Personality
N/A
Preferences
scent: sea salt and fresh warm breezes
song:
Washer at the ford original- by Argyle Goolsby (to listen search with title and click the green covered video)
Stranger, don't be afraid.
I am in no shape to do you harm
Though frightened you surely are by me
Grant me a moments vended knee.
Dismiss this blood spray on my clothes
I can assure you it's my own.
Though I lay bearing no cruel wound
The witch on the ford surely sealed my doom.
Oh God, I think I'm marked.
Stranger lend me your ear
Hear these last words of a dying man
I testify a great misdeed
My true loves heart I have aggrieved
I broke off for another belle
She conjured up vengeance she conjured up hell
She put that webbed witch there square in my path
Soaking my clothes with the blood of the past.
From round' yonder bend she came closing in
The shadowy washer at the ford
Jacklights were her eyes fortelling demise
The flickering washer at the ford.
Now I know I'm marked.
Stranger could it be we've met someplace before?
You grow resemblance to my lover whom I've recent scorned.
"Yes fallen friend, we did aquaint once on a stroll
Round' yonder bend, now let me wring those stains out
From your soul".
She wailed as she washed. She laughed at the cross
I hastily patterned cross my chest.
My vestment she wrung and ruefully flung these burgundy bloodstains
Cross' my breast.
From round' yonder bend she came closing in. The shadowy washer
At the ford. Jacklights were her eyes fortelling demise.
The flickering washer at the ford.
Special Skills
Now I know I'm marked.
Stranger could it be we've met someplace before?
You grow resemblance to my lover whom I've recent scorned.
"Yes fallen friend, we did aquaint once on a stroll
Round' yonder bend, now let me wring those stains out
From your soul".
She wailed as she washed. She laughed at the cross
I hastily patterned cross my chest.
My vestment she wrung and ruefully flung these burgundy bloodstains
Cross' my breast.
From round' yonder bend she came closing in. The shadowy washer
At the ford. Jacklights were her eyes fortelling demise.
The flickering washer at the ford.
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Fall 
Night Weather: 
Heavy Rain Moon: 
