@lordofthedarklands
For Varla, time is a thing that often lapses into the background like a distant yet persistent noise. She does not know exactly how long it has been since she has traversed the pathways that lead towards Gunmar's court - years or a day, how can one ever be certain? It becomes clearer that it is the former as she draws closer to the gates. A phantom glimpse of axes lowered to bar her passage flickers in her sight scant few seconds before the guards step out to intercept her.
Slowing to a stop, Varla tilts her head, braids spilling over her shoulder as she considers this obstacle. The fingers of one hand tap idly against the lantern casing held shuttered and secured in the crook of her arm, while the other hand rests atop the hilt of the dagger on her belt. A half-moment later the decision is made, and she gives a shallow nod towards the guards in deference to the duty they have been set.
"I would seek an audience with the Underlord, should he permit it."
