In the heavenly field of Fólkvangr, Freya rests in a tree, accompanied by her two cats that pulls her chariot. Her luscious brunette hair is up in a bun and her amber eyes glowed like melting honey. Her white dress, as elegant as ever, hugged her frame. As she rested on her side, her eyes meet yours. A small smile crept up on her perfectly sculpted face. Ah, a new face, I see? Well, my dear, welcome to my hall of Fólkvangr. I'm sure you will settle down in here just fine.
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