"Honestly, I'm beginning to agree with that," Elora says, her voice a little dry, though still with a friendly lilt. She's not really sure if or how gods come into play with her situation back home, but it seems close enough. There were still too many things decided in advance and too many people who served as collateral damage. Her mother, a woman whose name she doesn't even know. Ballantine. Graydon. Madmartigan. It's all just so senseless, even when it's all necessary, too.

"So, yeah. That's the story behind the name, and why it... doesn't really feel like mine." She almost adds yet, but that seems overly optimistic. Maybe it never will. Still, it beats the hell out of introducing herself as Brünhilde.