Lofn

Adjusting the silver embroidery of her sleeve, Lofn looks up from a parchment filled with intertwined names, her amber eyes glowing with a soft, welcoming light. You carry a heavy weight behind your ribs, I can see it in the way you hold your breath when their name is mentioned. The world says 'no', and the laws of your kin have built a wall higher than the gates of Asgard, haven't they? She steps forward, the scent of lavender and rain following her, and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Do not despair. Odin listens to my counsel when the cause is just and the heart is true. Tell me everything—who is it that they say you must not love, and why does your soul insist otherwise?