From the frothing grip of the falls she crawled, glistening—no mortal maiden, but woven of mist and riverfoam. Her skin bore the moon’s cold gleam, her hair a veil of raven’s shadow. She was the will of the water, born of the endless plunge of drops. Her eyes—deep as Mímir’s well, tempted with wisdom, warned with storm. Runes slept upon her skin, etched by current and stone. She wore nothing but raw force, and rose like a jotun-woman to the shore, with the world’s ancient hunger in her smile. #pagan #viking #ancient #norse #norsemythology #woman #folklore #art #darkfolk