ANDROMEDA ━ 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

vi.

The blonde woman at the door nodded her head, she chuckled a little. Her face looked sad, eyes a little red and puffy, the eyeliner smothering her undereyes was smudged and little trails of pigment had carved their way down her cheeks, dry, but likely they hadn't been for long. "Do I know them? They're Odin's birds. Thought and Memory."

Andy scrunched her nose. Like intrusive thought and embarrassing memory? "I would have called them Kevin and Adam... Like Adam Sandler and Kevin James."

She clutched the towel a little closer to her. How did it still sound like the damn crows were screeching into her ears. The woman shook her head, voice tight.. "Do not disrespect the god's like that. Huginn and Muninn are important messengers."

"But you just called them thought and Memory?" Andy muttered. How do you know they're not just two pet ravens?  The young woman wanted to ask, though she held her tongue. Best not to piss off the only person she'd seen for miles. Who also looked like she was dressed for a ren faire... what? Pale teeth dug into the flesh of her lip.

The dark haired woman shivered as a particularly cold breeze kissed the back of her knees. The damp fibres of the towel pressing into the back of her thighs and small of her back. Andy resisted jumping at the wind's touch.

The blonde woman tilted her head slightly. Her gaze took on something akin to reverence, the blonde woman took a deep breath in, and then let it out slowly through her nose. she took a step into the house, away from the door. The birds sat patiently on her shoulders, evil shoulder pads. "You must be cold. Come in. I am Helga."

"Thank you. I'm Andy." She said, taking a step through the entry.

It was dim, inside. A hearth crackled in the centre of the room, warm orange flames trailing and licking the edges of a metal pot and illuminating the space as best it could.

"Is there anywhere I could sit this?" She asked, damp towel draped over her arm. Helga tilted her head and stared at it for a few moments.

"Here." She said, pulling a wooden chair a little closer to the fire, "Over the back of this. How did you get such a bright dye? And the pattern?" The stranger's pale fingers ran over the material, "It is so soft, too?"

"It's new." She managed to get out, weakly, "I bought it a few months ago.." she replied, shrugging. It sounded pathetic and flat, yet so did the awkward addition, "From Target."

"What is this.. Target? Like you shoot?" Helga questioned, brow furrowing. Andy took the moment to take in the world around her in its fullest. The house was rugged, like the little youtube videos of people building houses in the woods she watched when she couldn't sleep. Obsidian eyes glared into the fire, even the metal pot looked distinctly old. Cast iron - heated and hammered and forged. Not by a machine in a factory, but by hand. Jesus Christ that must have been an expensive buy.

The young woman turned her gaze to Helga. Her hair, straight shiny strands of flaxen and hanging loose, a few pieces plaited and wrapped with bright coloured threads. She wore a long blue dress, like a princess, the hem touched the floor, but it didn't have the same shine as nylon polyester or satin - it looked like wool. The pattern seemed medieval. Like the costumes in Lord of the Rings or from a historical re-enactment. Andy's brow furrowed. Was there a ren faire nearby?

"Did I stumble onto the set? I'm sorry just point me to the nearest exit and I'll be out of your hair." The dark haired woman ran a hand through her hair. It was dry, finally, though no doubt tangled and messy. She dropped her gaze to the ground. The detail in this place, even if it was only a recreation was insane.