The warm summer night’s breeze was cool against her skin, as she brushed her hair away from the sweaty skin -- flicking her ear in the direction of the Sovereign as he spoke. She wasn’t surprised that he had joined her, he tended to find her whenever her core was rattled as if he possessed some sort of sixth sense. She would have asked him about it, but she did not like to give off the impression that anything bothered her. She had a reputation to protect, and that meant keeping everyone at an arm’s length, fooling them all into thinking that she was more than capable of wrestling her demons on her own or that those demons didn’t exist at all. His voice rolled like the smooth thunder that was common enough during the summer time, and Freya ignored him for the pause of a breath as she continued with the charade of fixing her appearance.
”Thank you.” She murmured, keeping her voice low in order to keep the conversation intimate. Reichenbach was also the King of the Crows, although none outside of the tight-nit circle of misfits knew about it. She imagined that it would be harder and harder to keep the secret though, as Reich grew in power and name. It wouldn’t be long until he wouldn’t be able to be seen with any of them, too low and dirty for the likes of a king. And then he would abandon them, just like everyone else in her life. Freya could hear the buzzing of her incessant thoughts, the fears and worries that tangled her on the inside. Don’t get close to him They whispered, twisting the nails of abandonment and betrayal that stuck in her heart until she took a step back from him -- shifting her weight until she appeared more comfortable.
”But you know that I make it very clear to them that I’m not interested.” Her voice was like the first tendrils of winter frost on the tender leaves, and she shrugged lightly. ”It isn’t my fault if they can’t tell the difference between the truth and a performance.” Her typically snappish attitude was curbed, for the sake of appearances -- or else she might have given him more of a tart reply. Much older than your typical Crow, Freya had come to the group late in life -- on the cusp of the age that most of the orphaned were spreading their wings to join other things although they were all bound by the secret society to never reveal it to someone who wasn’t a Crow.
She tended to hang along the outskirts, never quite engaging in the family-like atmosphere of the group. Instead she watched, envious of them and worried about them all in the same breath. She may not have been part of the family, but she would defend them if only to keep them from becoming bitter like her. Her glass colored eyes rose to met Reich’s dark ones.
”Is being a true king everything that you hoped it would be?” She asked smoothly, letting her steps draw her closer until she was leaving him behind for him to follow, intent to get out of the streets where others might see them together. Some assumed that Freya and Reichenbach were bedding each other, but it was the furthest thing from the truth. She had tried initially, as it was all too common for her to submit herself to men of power like that -- like an initiation that she had to go through in order to keep their protection and good graces, but Reich had seen right through her. Whether by that strange sixth sense or some other, the Night King had somehow known that he shouldn’t take what she offered. Now, she supposed it was because he was in love with someone else -- although she couldn’t quite place her finger on who. Still, it didn’t keep other from assuming especially as Freya was not shy at all about her sex life.
