[hr][hr][center][b][h3][color=#a81a75]Runa Johansson[/color][/h3][/b][img]https://i.postimg.cc/7YrrpX7R/moodboard-Runa.png[/img][hr][b][color=#a81a75]Location:[/color][/b] Hotel Valhalla - Floor 472
[b][color=#a81a75]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]	Runa's mental illness manifested itself similar to a hurricane. Her self loathing acted as the warm, moist air from the surface of the sea and outside variables, such as the knowledge of Balder and the end of the world, acted as the cool air that would condense the warm air into water. This water vapor served as the fuel, kicking up a horrific storm - Runa's depression. When it happened, she was always just completely overwhelmed by it, at the mercy of her brain's unique chemistry. She hadn't found very many coping mechanisms and the ones she had, it always felt like clinging to a piece of rope tied to a door, as the hurricane threatened to swallow Runa whole. 

	The hurricane never lasted forever though - it always had to end and sometimes, a sufficient shock was all that was needed. The extreme video game like GoCart track was jarring, especially with the bloody tire that rolled near her. It was the man in the stands who Runa [i]knew[/i] had smiled at her that sent a jolt down her spine. She had no idea who he was. Maybe he was the lost God of Love, here to explain that he wasn't actually missing and had just taken a wrong turn while on holiday in Peru? The man started to vanish into the stands and Runa went at a run, staff in hand, after him. He was getting further and further away, Runa falling behind as she tried to weave her way through the crowds and not get killed by angry Vikings. It felt like an impossible task for a moment, until she managed to catch up to him, panting hard. 

	[color=#a81a75]"Who are you?"[/color] she whispered.