
This angered him, his eyes hardened as he took a step forward. His paws felt heavy, unable to go further as if struck by an invisible wall. Her presence was suffocating him with the unknown; was it respect or fear? He could not place it, for it was simply just there, a feeling of something greater than he.
How?he tried to speak once more, though only one word came out as she fixed him with a look. He bowed his chin, tearing his eyes from the ghostly woman. He could not hold her gaze, something internally telling him not to mess with this one. Images of Asgard flickered through his mind, memories cast in shadows with faces blurred except one. Zisa, his wife. Tears streaked her face as the figure veiled in a dark cloak took their leave. Tyr tried to search his memory for more, but all he could see was the porridge that sat at the table in the place where the figure had left.
This was... His heart clenched, throat tightening.
A fucking norn. This woman was one of them, and going off of her arrogance, Tyr couldn't help but curl a lip. Urðr. The eldest of three. She spoke of seeking answers but not having them, and in his moment of insanity, something spurred the god to speak, a pleading cry.
But you must, you know all, you see all!A crack broke his words, the realisation that in this realm, even he had no power, so why would she? Because she was older than time. He fumbled, searching the ground around him for something, anything that might be used as an offering. If it was about something of value, he could find it. He needed to protect his family from whatever ancient magic was coming. He needed to know how.







