Astrid and Sigurd
Astrid froze in horror and watched the sword drive deeper into her belly. She looked up at Sigurd, mouth dropping open in surpised agony as the fire burned through her. Feathers fluttered weakly as he bellowed in rage and she started the long sprial towards the earth. Falling. The currents played with her white feathers and her long trailing wisps of hair as her hands clutched convulsively around the gleaming steel that the demon had slid into her. The demon followed her soon afterwards in a million pieces. She hit the surfce of the water and slipped underneath its blue, cold surface.
Sigurd screamed in heartwrenching torment as he watched the woman he had loved for so long in different ways, fall. Blue eyes open in surprise and pain, begging him to make it right. The least he could do was dispatch her killer. Her murderer. He hewed into the scaly flying thing with desperation and soon it followed his heart down to the sea. He hovered over the waves, a few white feathers floating to mark her landing, tears slowly rolling down his face, then turned Slepnir for home. She had died as a warrior, and he would see her in Valhalla. But Loki take it, it wasn't the same as having her *alive*!
Astrid felt the icy water enter her lungs and numb the site of entry in her gut. She slowly pulled the jagged sword out and watched it fall away from her into the darker depths. Gleaming as her blood washed off it and the serrated edges caught the light from the surface. And then the pain hit her. Her eyes flashed open, wide, wider and she opened her mouth to scream. Agony flashed like fire along her veins and she arched her back in an obscene ballet in the frigid salty waters.
Darkness flared and the denizons of the deep watched, warned off by their own sesnes as a transformation took place. Blackness ran the length of Astrid's wings, coating the purity like a dank oil. Seeping through to the bone. Her eyes flashed red. Golden strands gave way to ebony, gleaming like spilled dark blood. She screamed soundlessly as her body shifted, *changed*. Daggerlike fingernails drew blood from her own skin. Fangs sprouted, curved in dangerous symettery inside her mouth cutting into her lips. Intrigued, she darted her tongue out to taste. Ahhhh. She shot upwards from the clinging embrace of the waters, black flames crackling around her.
Reborn. Astrid considered the water, cruel and devious smile twisting her black and bloodstained lips. The wound in her stomach had healed itself as she had become...more. She spread her midnight feathered wings and pondered this new development. Her new tail lashed indescively from side to side, classically styled spearhead forming an exclaimation point behind her back as it curved upward. With a thought, her clothes changed as well. Always knew that spell would come in handy for something...
Black leather encased her legs tightly. Long black gloves spread from her hands to near her shoulders, the fingers cut off to allow her new talons easy access to prey. What, or who, she hadn't decided yet. Silver links of chains decorated her torso, attached to parts of a black silk scarf tied around her breasts and looped behind her neck, halter style. A black collar encircled her neck, silver studs gleaming. Her feet hung neatly below her, crossed at the ankles, black matte leather dully shining. Heels were always intimdating. Especially on boots. Steelcapped and squaretoed ones even more so.
Astrid mused about her name, and sighed. It really wouldn't do. Her wings beat as she left the scene and decided to head to America. There was such *fun* promised by a building full of children. Her fangs cut into her lips as she smiled.
~*~*~*~
"What do you mean she isn't here?" Sigurd demanded of Odin, flabberghasted. Odin looked at him with wise pity.
"Just that. She is not here."
"Well, where is she?"
"Fallen." And Odin would not say more.