[h2]Reaver[/h2]
[@Ariamis]

Finally, the day came when Reaver’s request was finally acknowledged, as he immediately understood when he saw something glimmer in Al’s hand upon arriving at his office.

“There you go, peguci: a bona fide Red Coin.”

Like a magician making a sleight of hand, Al let the crimson piece of condensed magic drift through his fingers dexterously, until he flipped it to Reaver, letting him catch it.
“It’s the real deal so don’t try to bite it. Even we don’t know what happens then. Now, this is a big allowance for a big kid, so don’t spend it all in one place, hah.”

“Thank you capo.” Reaver said. He knew this was putting a rope on his neck, but what choice was there? Everyone seemed to be able to shift and be reborn these days. Different coins and whatnot. “I shall make the best use of it… considering how much of a favour this is.” He reminded himself. Well, this should have the side effect of assuaging Al’s fears of needing more control over him.

“If you will excuse me, capo… I am going to need more privacy.”

“Suit yourself,” Al responded, and turned his chair away. “But remember; even if you change your face, your voice, hell, even what newspaper you’ve subscribed to...We’ll know.”

“It’s etched on my very soul. I don’t know why fools even attempt it.” Reaver said.”Farewell.”

Reaver held the coin on his palm, as he breathed in and weighed it. So light… yet so heavy. It was worth a lot, and It was not easy to get. Yet he had to use it. He had been less than careful with his showings, and now he was paying the price for it. The coin that could rebirth him into something else. Something better hopefully.

But couldn’t he ask for more? The smug contract he had signed had been underwhelming. Cindy had been a struggle. Cradle had always been denied. He had been robbed of Penny. He had been called by that crazy hand-licking broad “subpar”. If the powers of the coin were true…

He did not hesitate in the slightest, as he gathered a bunch of his other hard won coins, and stepping in a secluded spot in an abandoned building, focused and felt the warmth of the coin doing its work.

It was warm.

And then it was hot.

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His flesh was melting in agonizing pain, as his senses grew increasingly numb. And then a void. Had he lost consciousness?

[color=7ea7d8]“What am I going to do with you… William?” [/color]A soft-spoken, but deep voice spoke at his back. 

Reaver turned his gaze, eyeing up the imposing [url=https://safebooru.org//images/3224/8033346c3e431fef353bcbc95b2a896f3a120d0c.jpg?3351922]figure[/url]. He could not move, but he whispered under his lips.

“Allfather.”

The figure’s only eye pierced Reaver. [color=7ea7d8]“You showed great promise. The self-sacrifice touched upon me, and I granted your wish for power. Yet for all for your initial drive… you fooled around too much.”[/color] 

He tapped his head. [color=7ea7d8]“And now your body is about to tear itself apart and become something new. You could even cut ties with your former patron, and yet you do not do it. You’re … one of a kind, child.”[/color] 

“It was not enough…”

[color=7ea7d8]“I know. We all do these kinds of contracts to trap those who have hubris to dare to know more than the gods or other patrons.”[/color] He sighed. [color=7ea7d8]“But I appreciate that despite being a Mint tool who only thinks with his nethers… to choose me again despite all of what has happened… it has piqued my interest.” [/color] 

He sat besides him, in what seemed the inky void. [color=7ea7d8]“I could simply rebuke you, and let the use of this greedy red coin be your new future. Without me. Not many patrons would be this understanding… or accommodating with the kind of reputation you’re bringing to the table. Most are loath to share with the Coin Brokers too.”[/color] 

“I’d like to renegotiate terms.”

[color=7ea7d8]“Ha! So stalwart.”[/color]  Odin said. [color=7ea7d8]“I have always liked that about you.”[/color]  He continued, before tapping the empty socket right next to his working eye. [color=7ea7d8]“But … power and knowledge require sacrifice. And don’t you think that the brokers will get the lion’s share...[i]boy[/i].”[/color] 

“What do you ask of me, o Wise One?” Reaver said. He could not feel his body. Did he even have a body right now?

[color=7ea7d8]“Straight to the point.”[/color]  He muttered. [color=7ea7d8]“But there’s hardly any rush. This isn’t happening in a real place, or a real time. This is just your inner mind sanctum, as your outside is undergoing the transformation.”[/color]  The norse god raised one of his fingers. [color=7ea7d8]“I shall indulge, however.”[/color] 

[color=7ea7d8]“One...you relied way too much on your regeneration. That made you sloppy. You can’t have courage if you can shrug off a lot of damage. You shall pick another power.”[/color]  Wotan  then raised another finger. [color=7ea7d8]“You shall surrender your manhood and become a Valkyrie of mine. It should help you resist that annoying...thirst of yours.”[/color]  A third finger. [color=7ea7d8]“You are to forfeit Gram. That sword no longer suits you.”[/color]  Soon followed by a fourth. [color=7ea7d8]“Your afterlife in Valhalla is forfeit too. You shall not partake in the feast, but you shall be the one serving drinks. Displease me, and I will see that you only serve the rowdiest of Einherjar. Please me, and I shall… relieve you of this condition.”[/color] 

For the first time… Reaver hesitated in answering. Death did not scare him. Being a plaything of warriors of legend during all eternity as one divine ale wench was… another thing entirely. He winced.

“Fine. I could use the look change anyway.”

But Reaver could not find the Lord of Valhalla anymore. Instead a spear was piercing his chest, and all the pain rushed in, burning, changing him. 

[color=7ea7d8]“We have a [i]deal[/i], William.”[/color]  A disembodied voice was heard, alongside chuckling. The pain turned to pleasure. The pleasure turned to pain. He was shifting. Becoming nobody. Becoming somebody. 

Mighty wings spread from his figure, as his bones were forcefully rearranged to suit the new age and gender. It could no longer be called a he. She screamed. She laughed. Tears of joy. Tears of pain.

“And your name shall be Sanngridr, like the most vicious of my Valkyries.” She whispered words that Wotan had whispered in her ears, as she staggered. She felt… alive once more, with an itch she could not scratch.

Destroy. Feed. Intense urges… but she could keep them at bay for now. She advanced through the building, finding a mirror to look at herself. She examined her silver hair. The majestic wings. The sword besides her hip.

She smiled. A cruel, cold smile. 
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