You hear a noise

Hearing an odd noise coming from the right passageway, you decide to investigate. After all you can't exactly just stand in this vestibule forever.

As you walk down the corridor the sound gets louder until you finally realise that what you are hearing is actually a low muttering, which appears to be coming from just around the corner. Cautiously you slide your head past the edge of the wall until you can just about see the source of the noise. Before you you see what appears to be your guide from before prostrate before an ornate statue of a woman holding a sword. It takes you a moment to fully take in the scene but when you do you also notice that the figure's helmet is actually on the floor next to them, though apart from some spikes of blond hair you are still unable to see their head over their armour.

From the looks of this situation you presume that they must be praying, though not having spent much time in your life around religious individuals you are left at some what of a loss as to what to do now. You are almost certain that it'd be a bad idea to interrupt them, you recall something about that possibly killing them... or was that sleep walkers, you're not sure. As you debate this in your head you realise that the soft chanting appears to have stopped and, much to your shock, the figure has stood up to face you. Part of your brain was frantically pestering you into discovering how they had moved in that power-armour without so much as a sound, but you quashed it, more interested in surveying the fair-skinned maiden before you. She had the look of a Valkyrie; light, tough skin, blue eyes and cropped short blonde hair, plus the extra foot of height from the armour made her rather imposing, yet her expression and demeanour seemed to signify nothing but kindness.

“Erm.... H... Hullo” you manage, not overly sure what to say given the circumstances. “Nice god you have there”. You mentally slap yourself, even for a man who had just survived a shipwreck that was poor.

The woman chuckles slightly at your comment. “I'm sorry, but the great mother is no god, she is merely a saintly woman to whom we pray”, she informs you after calming down.

“Oh... well I'm sure she appreciates it” you remark, becoming increasingly certain that you should probably just stop talking.