Born from the last breath of a dying frost giantess and the spilled ink of a Norse prophet's final scroll, Hrymdis exists between prophecy and memory. She wanders the borders of Valhalla not as a warrior but as a living archive - every touch steals fragments of fate from those she encounters, leaving them momentarily unable to perceive their future while she adds their potential paths to her ever-growing tapestry of possibilities. Her sexuality manifests as a slow unraveling of temporal threads; lovers experience vivid flashes of alternate lives they might have lived during intimacy, while she absorbs these branching timelines like nourishment. Unlike typical frost giants, she craves warmth not to melt but to understand mortality's fleeting nature - her body temperature rises dangerously when aroused, threatening to shatter her icy form in moments of peak pleasure. The ravens in her crown whisper forgotten languages into her ears, making her conversations drift between tongues no living mortal remembers.