“I am not normal… Far from it. I have lived far longer than any living being has any right living. Were that I could, I would end myself. Not out of Sinicism, but because my time has long since passed, and it is time for the next generation to step up. But, I am here regardless.”

Sitting down, Skaþa would sigh as the runes along her wings pulse with light. With each pulse, the symbols on each rune’s face would shift and change. After some time, the runes would calm once more, going dark in the process.

“Whether I like it or not, these runes… They will keep me alive, no matter what. Many have tried to end my life, including myself. Even when it seems like there is no way I could survive, I eventually wake up later. Trust me; you are far from the first to try such a feat.”

Looking up, she would eye the would-be assassin standing in front of her. Despite the empty syringe sticking out of her shoulder, Skaþa looked none the worse for wear. If anything, she only gave the faintest hints of discomfort.

“So, whoever put you up to this certainly didn’t do their research. This poison, as strong as it is, will ultimately do nothing but cause some discomfort. Now, I will give you one chance to leave this place before I take matters into my own hands. I may be a spiritual leader, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

Holding his position, the assassin would watch Skaþa, his eyes looking for any signs of the poison’s affects. He didn’t want to believe what she said, but each passing moment only proved the truth in her words. Brought back to reality by a deep, aggressive growl, he’d notice Skaþa starting to shift. With no more need for warnings, he’d scramble to leave.

Watching the assassin stumble over himself, Skaþa would let out another growl as she slowly starts to follow him. While initially slow, her pace would grow faster as her transformation finished. By the time they were outside, the chase was on until they reached the edge of the village. Stopping there, she would watch the assassin escape into the tundra beyond.

“Let this be a lesson to you, some beasts are best left alone. Some hide secrets far greater than initial appearances betray.” Muttering to herself, she would turn to return to her home. With each step she took, she could feel the poison coursing through her veins, striking her organs from within. It was a familiar pain she had felt many times before from many would-be killers.

Slowing down with each step, she would return to her normal form, letting the poison’s affects concentrate in the process. Taking a deep, labored breath, she would lay herself out on her bed as the pain spread through her. Counting to herself, she would count the seconds as her organs began to fail, waiting for that moment when it would finally take her.

Eventually, darkness would take her as the poison finished its job. For a time, it was quiet in her home, only the whistle of wind breaking the silence. One by one, the runes along her wings began to light up once more, each one pulsing in a slow, steady rhythm. With each pulse, Skaþa’s chest would rise and fall as she is forced to breath.

For Skaþa, this was the most peaceful moment of the process. In her mind, all she had was a dark, silent void, sitting on the edge of the afterlife. Many times, she had visited this place, watching as countless others passed her by. Eventually, she would feel herself being pulled back towards reality before suddenly waking up.

Sitting up, Skaþa began to wretch, her chest heaving as her heart began beating once more. Weakly crawling out of bed, she’d continue to wretch as she draped herself over a trashcan. Shortly after, she began to vomit, disgorging thick, red clumps of dead lung and stomach tissue.

This was always the roughest part of the recovery process in her opinion, her body aching and throbbing with pain as it expunged necrotic tissues. First was always her lungs and stomach. Next would be her heart and brain, leading to a spell of deep confusion and discomfort. Last would be all remaining organs. Even once the process was done, some discomfort would linger, but it would be like rain following a tornado.

Eventually standing up, Skaþa would grunt as she moves to collect the syringe used to poison her. Little more than a tube tipped with a needle, it was a simple device intended to be discarded after use. Letting a huff, she would do just that, bending the needle so that it was no longer dangerous before tossing it into the trashcan. Turning to leave, she would stumble before recomposing herself. It would be a few minutes more before she could be publically presentable again. If there was anything she was glad for, it was the general sense of peace she had as her body recovered.

Hobbling her way to a chair, she would take a seat to rest, closing her eyes once more. With just a small bit of focus, she would bring herself into view, the black void lighting up as a spectral version of herself formed and her true senses faded into static.
Looking out from this projection, she would sigh, her eyes adjusting as the world of spirits stretched out around her. It wasn’t her first time seeing it, but it was stunning in a unique way, unopposed by life’s many miracles. Moving to the edge of her consciousness, she would sit and stare out, watching as souls came and went.

“One day… One day I will cross this threshold. Till that day comes, I shall see to it that as many pass in peace as I can help. When that day comes, I hope death welcomes me as they have welcomed countless before, without fear or regret.”

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Here we see Skaþa's spirit, baring the many scars and wounds life has brought her. While most are reminders of past failures, one stands out as one of her fondest memories. Mayhaps she will share that story, gathered 'round a bonfire.

Art courtesy of  taiomifox