When Sindri was a baby, time always seemed to pass so slow. She begged for her first birthday, awaited it with bated breath and bared teeth, ready to grasp life by its tail and find what this world had in store. She ran amok, and she wished to leave, to wished to explore. The quiet life of the island had always been as peaceful as it was anxiety-inducing to just.... sit around, do nothing. It was no singular time Sin had been scolded by her parents about wandering off when she shouldn't have, lingering on the shore of the mainland, aching to see more but knowing their worries were justified. Nowadays, things were... more complicated. Time passed so much quicker, and while Sindri was glad of her lessons with Lilja, for being able to attend Flóki, Inka, Veðr... there was a loneliness about her she couldn't shake. Their once sprawling kingdom had grown so small, and it seemed like most of her siblings were just... gone. Some taken by tragedy, others simply yet to return, and not all those Sin would claim aloud. Her feelings on Tyr were tumultuous sometimes, but she loved him always. His children, the ones she hadn't shared the womb and nest with, were a harder pill to swallow sometimes. Mostly, she just missed her littermates; Bragi was the last one at her side and her most shy littermate was best to leave in peace, bother once a day, try not to overwhelm.

When she wasn't busy training or practicing, she tried to spend time with Cupid. Some days, he felt like all she had left in this mortal plane.

There had to be something to do here for a goddess born to true flesh. She couldn't keep sitting on the sidelines like a good girl and waiting for Daddy to fix all her problems, but her heart squeezed at the thought of being gone for more than a day or two. Cupid -- what would Cupid do? Who would keep him company while Tyr was busy, make him laugh to keep his spirits higher, make sure he'd eaten? How would he feel, watching his second-to-last wander off just like all the others, wondering if she'd return?

Sindri's paws carried her across the shore, tail flicking, ears back, shadowy gaze fixed on the forests of the mainland only a smear of color along the far horizon. Beyond, mountains rose, and though she could picture Elysium tucked in there somewhere, she didn't know what lay beyond. She longed to find out, and failure clutched at the edges of her guilt when she thought about how much she'd just... ignored every dream of doom, of warning, of beings begging her to help.
And now, clouds were so thick over the sky she hadn't seen star nor moon in weeks, and even the shine of the sun itself couldn't break through much anymore; night and day were growing harder to distinguish by sight alone.
Sindri always knew, as if she could feel the moon calling to her.

The young woman puffed a sigh and carried on, Astraios soaring silently some feet above. Lately, it'd been so cold that he often had to land and warm himself against her, and sometimes, they had to shelter altogether. The North was dangerous at night for its temperatures already to those who didn't know how to tread with care, and now, it was dangerous to Sindri and her people, too.
And she was just supposed to...accept that?
She couldn't anymore.