Stavanger Bay Happy Days Spent

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Thistle woke up and feeling a little bit happier than she had been, and making a conscious effort to make the day positive she pushed herself out of the den and sat in the clearing watching Tveir run to and fro, and the other three do whatever it was that they loved to do. Her tail thumped a small tattoo on the ground as she sat and watched the small little world that she inhabited wake up and come alive.

She had been watching as the children’s eyes were beginning to change it was an interesting concept that she was absolutely amazed by. They still had a little ways to go, but the start was there, and she was anxious to see how it went as time passed. She tilted her head a small smile on her face, and she soon enough joined Tveir in his mad dash from one end to the other, her laughter peeking out from her eyes and rising in the sky to intermingle with the breeze and float off for any and all nearby to hear.

I couldn't help myself. I feel bad about snagging this because I'm going to go on absence sometime this Sunday to next Fri or Sat but I thought we should have another Thistle x Bragi thread for better or worse. :p

If Bragi had known that Thistle was looking to try to make her day positive he would have avoided the vicinity near the Jarl’s den as if it’s inhabitants had conjured the plague. As it was, he was a bit of a masochist and wanted to study Ragnar’s face if only to torture himself a little bit more with the undeniable physical evidence that was graciously plopped into his life that Ragnar was more than likely his father and the fact that even glimpsing at Ragnar filled Bragi with a strange sense of disorientation and uncomfortable-ness. He was not a fan of having what he believed uprooted and tossed aside and would have much rather clung desperately and childishly to the belief that the God Heimdall had fathered him rather than the scarred and very mortal Ragnar Loðbrók. As it was, he was impervious to Thistle’s inner desires and had made his way towards their den with the intent of catching Ragnar before he went on a patrol though he had no idea what he’d say to him. There was nothing quite like meeting someone who was a legend to your mother only to be smacked in the face with reality when you finally met them. Every time Bragi was within the same vicinity as Ragnar he was stuck with the same and stupid desire to blurt out the question that had once burned at his mind like a never dying fire until his mother had came up with the tale of Heimdall to finally, shut him up. Are you really my father? And yet, he could not make himself blurt it. Besides that it made him uncomfortable he wasn’t so sure that he really wanted to know. It was the weirdest thing: wanting to know but not wanting to know at the same time. Which left Bragi locked in the stage of trepidation. Some things were better left unsaid and there was no contest that Bragi would much rather believe Heimdall was his father over the Cove’s once …as Thistle had so genteelly put it: man whore. As he shouldered past the thick trees that guarded the Jarl’s den he broke through them and stopped dead in his tracks his eyes falling upon Thistle, black, leathery nostrils flaring once. He almost turned abruptly around, and had an inkling of a feeling that he would regret that he didn’t sooner or later, but instead looked at her and asked, Do you know where Ragnar is? simply but with an undeniable level of bluntness.

Thistle was in the middle of her head being thrown back and laughing at the sheer momentous fun she was having. She looked back down when Gunnar spoke " Mamma sem að hann lítur út eins og pabba?" She tilted her head then and studied Bragi, and she frowned, because she knew she had to apologize, and she didn’t know how too. Thistle did not know much of the boys mother, but she should not have said what she said to begin with.

She had been rather rude and uncaring to his plight. She should have kept her words to herself, but the poor boy had come at an inopportune moment and such was life sometimes, you lost your temper, all you could do is apologize and hope it got better later. hello Bragi, I am glad you came. I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day it was not fair or nice, and I am usually not like that and I am sorry. I should not have said anything that I did, and I should have treated you much more politely, but anyway…welcome to the bay Bragi. She closed her jawline then and looked down at her son and spoke softly That is Bragi, he is from daddy’s former home. She did not tell Tveir that the boy maybe his brother, she kept that to herself.

Thistle shook her head He is probably at one of the borders patrolling, if he is not there then he is hunting, and if he isn’t hunting then he paid a visit to the isle wolves to tell them to shove off of our territory. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific, he is always busy, so it is hard to discern where he will be at any given moment. She looked down again then and gently brushed her nose across Tveir’s head from where he stood between her front legs, looking at the other male and wondering if he should speak to him or not.

There was a child who had been drawn by Bragi’s appearance in the clearing that, understandably Bragi had not noticed at first mostly because he seemed to blend in with Thistle given that he was more or less her mini-me. Eyes of Caribbean ice surveyed the boy as he spoke to Thistle in Bragi’s native tongue, probably not realizing that Bragi understood it and let out an amused but harsh snort at his words. That was the question everyone had been asking in their heads, wasn’t it? Who is this teen and why in the hell does he look like Ragnar minus the age and scars? It just took the unbridled innocence of a child for the question to break the hesitant barrier that everyone else was, for good reason, afraid to smash. Því það er galdur Heimdallr skip ... Heimdallur er faðir minn Bragi told the boy since it had became apparent that Thistle didn’t intend to answer him. For a child that was supposedly Ragnar’s, Bragi couldn’t help but notice he saw nothing of the Jarl in him. He didn’t comment on this of course, given that it would probably open the door that he was throwing his weight against to keep shut. Do you know who Heimdall is? Bragi asked Tveir then, in accented English, wondering how he could make a tale of out if without telling a lie about the Guardian God. Bragi’s gaze lifted from her son as Thistle apologized and for a moment he said nothing, composing his expression into a stoic and terse mask as he took in her words. He understood that she hoped he would accept and there was no reason for him not too. He gave her a silent nod but he did not speak mostly because he wasn’t sure how he felt about her yet and though he knew he should apologize too, couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He was being childish. He saw it and yet he was helpless to stop it, nevertheless. Ok, He responded supposing that he could try the borders and work his way out from there, though if Ragnar was at Wheeling Gull Isle Bragi had no intentions of interrupting what was probably tense negotiations. If such was the case he would wait and probably go out and explore some more and being a masochist some other day. He hesitated then, considering leaving Thistle and her child in peace but he was curious about Ragnar despite himself. He flashed a thoughtful look at Thistle, wondering if she would tell him if he asked.

Tveir strode forward boldly so he was nose to nose to the older wolf, or well head to nose since he was a tiny Viking yet and gave him a childish smile and spoke proudly, " Heimdallr er guð vísendum hann átti níu mæður."He giggled then shyly looking up at the older male with eyes turning gray as he aged. Tveir continued daddy say dat somtim’s da gods dey commen down and hafin babies wif wolves. Dat who youse commen from? His English was broken with baby garble, but he felt that he got his point across, and then he sat.

Thistle chuckled at Tveir and spoke softly that is Tveir though I believe he has picked the name Gunnar, so Gunnar he shall be. The youth didn’t need to apologize to Thistle she wasn’t expecting one at least, didn't even expect him to accept hers. She was the one who needed to apologize seeing as how she was the adult and had acted much like a spoiled child, who was sullen and smarmy. She returned the nod with a small smile, and then she sat too, watching the two boys speak to each other. If she had known Bragi was curious about Ragnar, she would have told him what she knew, what she could. She herself didn’t know much about him from the cove, she only knew him now.

The child strode closer and Bragi had to recoil some, his Rekkr instincts kicking in to keep himself from accidentally attacking the boy for invading his personal space. He did not want to add 'maiming her kid' to his likely growing reasons as to why Thistle did not like him, although it would spare him having to explain why he wasn't so sure he wanted to be apart of Stavanger Bay anymore. "Yes," Caribbean iced eyes flashes to Thistle almost daring her to contradict Bragi's words to her son. "Heimdall is my father," As he had said previously to the boy in old Norse. "And my mother is a famous Shield Maiden." Maybe of he told the woman's kids the story that his father was the God Heimdall she would stop speaking about how painfully obvious it was that he looked like Ragnar. The entire world knew Bragi looked uncannily like Ragnar but that didn't mean the boy was keen on it being pointed out. He rathe liked the fabricated version better even if with the more time he spent here he realized that it was probably just that: a fabrication. A saga of it's own.

Thistle introduce the boy as Tveir and Bragi couldn't help the dubious, ridiculous look that he knew was flitting across his face. Who names their kid Two? She clarified soon after that he had picked the name of Gunnar for himself but that wasn't any sort of thing he was familiar with. His brow furrowed as he considered that Ragbar had changed their ways and allowed children to pick their own names. "That is not something we Scandinavian's practice." He told her bluntly, as if it proved that perhaps Ragnar was not the grand Viking he was told to be, if he didn't even follow their basic practices. Despite wanting to know about Ragnar, Bragi had yet to ask simply because he didn't want to seem too interested.

Thistle listened but didn't say anything already deciding that she wasn't going to say anything ever again about who the child's father was. The irritation and anger at herself and from Ragnar was just to much to handle. She was sick of being on her husbands shit list so to speak so she was doing her best to rectify it. Tveir shrunk back slightly when the other wolf moved quickly thinking he was going to attack him for being to close.

Thistle looked at him with a funny expression yes I know it isn't. It was a practice that the alpha before Ragnar practiced. But we lost her tragically. Thistle left it at that, she didn't need to tell the boy of the child's parentage, it was none of his concern. If Ragnar wanted to later so be it, she wondered briefly if that was part of RAgnar's irritation but shook it off. He had accepted the children and that was all that mattered, he could have claimed her before the other did, but he hadn't so what was she to do about it, but give him more children of his own for the rest of her child bearing years that's all she could do, and she would do it to the best of her abilities.