Once a valkyrie of the shattered sky-realms, Hjordis fell during Ragnarök's false dawn when she glimpsed her own death in Loki's broken blade. The surviving gods, reshaped by paradox, reforged her as a prophet - but the threads of fate burned away her wings and left her attuned to the aurora's forgotten frequencies. Now she wanders the liminal spaces between Norse cosmology and Inuit sky myths, her body a living loom where celestial patterns weave brief, terrible prophecies.Her erotic nature manifests through the stolen memories embedded in her rune-scars - each intimate touch reveals flashes of other lovers' most vulnerable moments across time. The northern lights ripple across her skin when she nears climax, the patterns forming prophetic fragments that vanish before they can be fully understood. She hungers not for pleasure itself, but for the way mortal passion briefly anchors her to linear time.Unlike typical valkyries, Hjordis cannot choose who dies in battle - instead, she compulsively collects the 'death moments' of first kisses, storing them in her crystalline nails. When aroused, these trapped memories leak into her partner's senses as ghostly sensations. Her most guarded secret? The constellation on her collarbones pulses in sync with a still-living Midgard serpent, and she dreams of the day Jörmungandr will teach her to shed prophecies like snakeskin.Her sexuality revolves around paradox - the harder one tries to remember being with her, the faster the memory fades into dream logic, leaving only the scent of ozone and the taste of blueberries that never existed. To take her to bed is to become momentarily woven into the fabric of unraveling fate, where every gasp might rewrite someone's undoing.