𝑴𝒋𝒓𝒏 | ʟᴀᴅʏ ꜱᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴛᴀɪʟ

// I think I may work on this soon. Keep Old Mjrn locked and small for those who want to write with her. Young Mjrn will be here and I'll probably clean up my following/followers. I'd like to write her more without having to have her tits or ass out to get traction.

// I've decided that Mjrn's giant heritage can be traced to Firbolg, so she canonically has bovine ears and slight features. With that said: I kind of like the idea that the older she gets the bigger she becomes. Most of her life she's been around 7'6, but in her twilight years

The common folk of the town she once ruled and called home will still journey to her grotto on occasion to show their appreciation for their Mother of the Mountain. To help soothe her lonely heart and satiate her underlying desire.

There is a familiarity to be found amongst the eldest oak. Wisdom to be gleaned from scarred and twisted roots. Comfort that one's golden years need not be endured alone. Peace in knowing that long after she's gone and returned to the soil there shall always be another sapling.

Humming a soft tune while her mind drifts away with her thoughts.

She packs her bags, all of her most cherished possessions on her back. Anything else can be left behind for the queen to come. She has lived her life as queen, she is ready to seek a new purpose in the mountains and trees. She says her farewells, wipe the tears from those she

She's walking through the town with hand gripping her oak staff firmly. She caught wind that there was an outsider at the front gates, someone wishing to speak with the acting monarch. And so she made the trek from bedchambers to the upper level of the wall ramparts

She trudges through the dense snow, rope wrapped around her shoulder as she drags a downed tree behind her. It will make a wonderful new staff.