Goldilocks ate the porridge, killed the bears

*Ragnar* · May 02, 2014, 08:58 AM

Ragnar wants in on this, yuss. Also, minor little powerplay of Thistle because I couldn't see Ragnar not telling her something. xD

Ragnar, as he often did, spent the late afternoon, lingering close to the birthing den , worrying bones, attempting to mark them - each bone representing one of his numerous Gods, each telling a story relevant to that God. It was simple - he was not artist - but he figured they would make good teaching tools for their sons …and for Thistle too, if she wished to share in the lessons. The Gods were just as much apart of being a Viking considering how thoroughly they were weaved into the culture itself. He had finished up Thor’s bone, tucking it into a corner of the den beside all the finished ones in a neat little pyramid beside the small pile of ones yet to be marked. Looking at them in comparison to one another Ragnar doubted he would get them all done before the birth of their sons (because he was stupidly confident that Thistle would give him sons, period), but they would be too young at first to do much of anything which, he realized, would give him the extra time he would need.

He ducked back out of the den then to check on the furs he had laid out to dry in the sun days previous having ripped them (in a rather gruesome and bloody way) off of his prey so his sons would not have to suffer the cool earth beneath their tiny, fragile newborn bodies despite that they would never be without a body - be it Thistle’s or his when she needed to go out to drink or relieve herself - to keep them warm, he had found much comfort in the pelts his father had given to him and his brothers as small children and wished to return the favor with his own.

It was then that Pump’s call broke through the serene afternoon sky, shattering the peace that had enveloped the burning horizon. Body froze as head lifted, scarred left ear swiveling to pick up the last, fading notes. A warning. A summons. A call to arms. Hackles bristled along his spine in a shiver of anticipation, as his ears slicked against his skull, lip curling back to expose his sharp, deadly teeth. He looked to Thistle quickly, ignoring that strained palpitation his heart gave as he took her in face and then body, heavy with child. Sharply, the Viking turned away to a small mound of dirt where he had hidden the drugged mushrooms he had found that would put him into the Berserker state he had not sought after in a long time. He had not told her he had actively sought them, mostly because he simply did not wish to worry her, he kept them for emergencies and this, he decided, was the very situation he kept them for. He pulled one delicately out of his stash and then another. Two was more that sufficient enough (probably a little too much) but something was wrong and the Viking wanted to see the threat eliminated no matter whose death came first.

He pushed the dirt back over his stash and then looked to Thistle then, his body taunt and tense as he approached her, ignoring the mushrooms briefly enough to draw his teeth across his leg until he drew blood and collected it upon his muzzle where he smeared it on her cheek - a passionate gesture common of his people when they left their lovers behind to fight. “Get inside and stay there,” Ragnar commanded her before he bent down to lick at the small cut he’d made, finding that it had scabbed quickly before he turned back to his mushrooms, sparing her one last, forlorn look before he consumed them, his tongue scraping against his teeth as the sweet and bitter taste exploded across his taste buds.

Ragnar then made haste to reach Pump’s side, eyes catching sight of the bear as it ate it’s way through their cache. Eyes narrowed as the scarred Viking looked at the creature that had caused the death of the cougar (whose cub he had sacrificed), that had nearly been the cause of Thistle and Pump’s own deaths. He looked to his hybrid leader then, knowing it would take a small amount of time for the drugs to kick in giving him just enough to time to hear the plan, learn his role in their hunt, and for the others to gather before the blood rage could grab a hold of him. A small part of him worried about telling Thistle to seek refuge in the birthing den for she would be trapped if it came after her but Ragnar did not plan to let it get that far into the territory.