"Do I have something on my face?" Drina asks in their native tongue, catching the way her husband's gaze lingers on her. She glances to Fenrir for a brief moment, before returning dark eyes to the map before her. "I am asking them to put me on a run instead of patrol." She hates the feeling of going in circles around town. For what? To wait for the enemy to arrive? Perhaps to welcome them with open arms? Aimlessness sets her nerves on edge, fingers sparking with restless energy. "Will you come with me?" Drina adds, finally focusing on him for longer than a beat. @rviner
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"They say it might be flat but it clearly round and full. Not flat at all." Drina says in Norse, inspecting the green can curiously alongside her sisters. "They say it is from their Yule celebration." She turns it over in her hand, a frown crossing her lips as she reads off the white letters. "Sp-ri-te. Is that not their word for ånd?" Spirit. Drina asks, curious as she looks for an opening to the beverage. "How do we access it? There is no cork." She proffers it to her sisters to figure out. @gloriouswhispers / @wilddwcrds
Drina was born to a proud family of witches. The Freysson name had always been associated with power and magic, and aligned themselves with the Visser pack. Born the youngest of her sisters, Drina embodied many of the traits that ran through her family. From her ambitious and bold nature to her short-tempered petulance, she was used to getting what she wanted. Not because anyone gave it to her but because she, like her sisters, took what they believed was theirs. And respect was at the top of the list.Â
She proved herself a capable witch and force within the Visser pack, earning respect. Despite her fiery nature, often echoing her older sister’s, their shared elemental magic sometimes led to squabbles of the younger not wanting to listen to the advice of the older. Still, she was bound to her sisters by blood and power and love. For though her words could sing and her temper could spark, she could also bring warmth and light to those she loved.
Growing up in a pack and coven like theirs, Drina had the best teachers at her disposal, even if she was an impatient student. Ever the youngest, she was ambitious in making her own path, sly in her execution and fully indefatigable when it came to pursuing things she wanted. Her magic continued to grow with her and despite the chaos that was in her blood as a Freysson, she was determined to hone it. And hone it she did. Eventually, she was able to access the upper limits of her power, though not with some incidents and singed hair along the way.
It was on this journey to honing her magic that Fenrir Skora happened upon her practicing one day, surprising her within an inch of his life. She nearly blasted him to pieces, but he only laughed. It was the start of their friendship as he wormed his way into her heart. They became inseparable, first as friends, then as warriors, learning to fight beside each other, leaning on each other’s strengths and then, eventually, they became more. Their lives were joined in their pack’s ancient ceremony as they vowed to protect each other. And they did.Â
By the time the war reached them in 2020, they had a two-year-old son named Leif. They, like others in their pack, fought to protect what was most important and managed to escape capture along with others in their pack. But the next three years would prove treacherous as danger lurked at every turn. There were times they narrowly avoided capture, doing everything to protect their son.
But in January 4, 2023, everything came to a head when the safe town they were in was attacked. It's a day Revna will never forget. The day Leif was killed. It changed everything and shattered something inside Revna she's certain can never be repaired.
In the year since, she and Fenrir have grown distant in many ways and closer in others. Their loss affects them both differently, but it's manifested in the way Revna uses her magic. Her control frays and singes with the heat of her grief and her hate. She's no longer a dancing flame but a raging fire, set to burn everything down around her. She is a void, with untold depths of grief filing her. Spite has taken root in her spirit, and Fenrir is the only one who's been able to bring her back to herself.
