Jötunheim
If I thought that Atlanta would be put out by the look of the monster and stop pursuing the topic, I would have been severely mistaken.
“What is their world like? Have you been there?”
“I have only ever read and heard about it from reports and accounts of the war between my realm and theirs. It is a very cold wasteland. Only the natives can survive there without freezing. My people had to wear very thick protection against the weather. Your people would have died within heartbeats of stepping foot on it.”
She frowns at me instead of at the explanation on the paper.
“But you love cold things and places.”
I purse my lips. – My cold-loving preferences and tendencies have long been quite an oddity in Asgard, like many other aspects in my life, habits, instincts and body. Various individuals and groups have remarked upon it, usually in curious manner, if not outright derogatory or suspicious in respect – or fear – of my station, and I always find it discomfiting, often distasteful.
Thankfully, she seems to pick up on my reluctance to expand on this matter, and instead asks more about Jötunheim.
For once, I gladly talk about it.