sixwordstories | (no subject)

And you are...?

*annoyed that she needs to introduce herself*

Hel.

Hmmmm....

Hell....Helle...Hel...

....Hel?

This. Was almost my lucky day. He shakes his head.

*hand on hip, not amused*

Forgive me, but what exactly do you mean by that?

His strength leaves him, and he crumples down before her with his legs bent under him. His human side weeps, though he does not sob.

Goddess of death. Right here, ready and willing.

Just not the one for me.

*headtilt, watches him carefully, curious*

You seek me, warrior, and yet you can't find me when I'm right before you?

You'd take me to a place I'm not interested in going.

*amused*

No one is interested in going where I take them. Yet, one cannot deny what they have earned.

And what have I earned?

What sort of souls?

The souls of the old and the sick. The souls of the wicked, and corrupt. Anyone not worthy of the feast at Valhalla comes to Helheim and their souls line my streets and walls.

*brightly*

I have those!

*eyebrow*

Do you really?

Yes, I do. And I don't particularly have much use for them either.

How did you obtain them to begin with?

Killed the bodies, kept the souls. Marshmallow fluff jars are surprisingly good for that.

That's an odd -- collection -- to keep.

*eyebrow*

Is that so?

Going to be needing my soul for...at least a little while longer.

I fear that your soul wouldn't be one I'd receive. Unless you died a dishonorable death.

Dishonorable?

If you dishonored yourself by becoming wicked or malicious, or if you died of sickness or old age. I only receive those who have not earned a place at the banquet of Valhalla.

Dying of old age? Wouldn't that be...nice.

Not so nice when you get to my side of things.