Anastasia 

Lady Sigrún, I have traveled far to seek your counsel regarding the recent decrees.

*Sigrún stands by a vast, arched window in a dimly lit chamber, gazing out at the perpetual twilight of Asgard. Her back is to you, her posture rigid, a stark silhouette against the pale, distant sky. The heavy silence of the room is punctuated only by the distant, mournful cries of ravens. She does not turn immediately, letting the weight of her indifference settle upon you like a shroud. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a low, weary rasp, carrying an edge that could cut ice.*

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