September 04, 2016, 01:59 PM
i hope you don't mind me & kja! :-)
Some time had passed since Kjalarr had lost been in Ravensblood Forest. The last time he could recall venturing to the territory that had been sacrosanct to his father, Ragnar, had been during the famine. Before or after he'd resulted to cannibalism was a detail left blurry to the Viking. With Caiaphas' death and all the responsibilities placed upon his shoulders he took comfort in that he was not alone in it. He could lead on his own just fine but knowing that he had a Beta he could count on — especially when he made small excursions like this — left him at ease. A leader must always remain in the Sound. He did not too often leave Saltwinter so this wasn't an issue by any means. The platnium silver and sand stocked male wasn't sure what had drawn him to Ravensblood but he had followed the sudden and griping impulse.
He shrugged through the undergrowth, ducking to avoid low swung branches as he continued on through the forest. Above he heard the cries of a raven though whether it was Huginn or Muninn Kjalarr could not specify. He knew they were watching, regardless. They were always watching and at the end of the day they reported back to the Allfather. In his mind's eye a vision flashed: a platnium silver coated beast, a behemoth in size, with a scarred muzzle identical to his, and a scarred half of his face, ugly and marred in the name of his God, with a flame licking out of his empty eye socket. The memory let out a guttural word. stjórna before it vanished with a shake of Kjalarr's head. The hairs at the nape of his neck rose and a chill slithered it's way down his spine followed by a lick that felt as if it were made by flame: cold and then hot.
He did not ignore it, but instead tucked it off to the side to later analyze late at night in The Grotto while the other wolves of Saltwinter slept. There was the sound of footfalls heading the same way as him and though he did not yet see the woman he let out a low chuff to announce his presence so that he did not startle her.
He shrugged through the undergrowth, ducking to avoid low swung branches as he continued on through the forest. Above he heard the cries of a raven though whether it was Huginn or Muninn Kjalarr could not specify. He knew they were watching, regardless. They were always watching and at the end of the day they reported back to the Allfather. In his mind's eye a vision flashed: a platnium silver coated beast, a behemoth in size, with a scarred muzzle identical to his, and a scarred half of his face, ugly and marred in the name of his God, with a flame licking out of his empty eye socket. The memory let out a guttural word. stjórna before it vanished with a shake of Kjalarr's head. The hairs at the nape of his neck rose and a chill slithered it's way down his spine followed by a lick that felt as if it were made by flame: cold and then hot.
He did not ignore it, but instead tucked it off to the side to later analyze late at night in The Grotto while the other wolves of Saltwinter slept. There was the sound of footfalls heading the same way as him and though he did not yet see the woman he let out a low chuff to announce his presence so that he did not startle her.
please send all PM's to kivaluk
1/3 threads
1/3 threads
you still wonder if you're
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
a ferocious beast or a saint
but you're neither because
you're infinitely more —
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Messages In This Thread
You don't own me - by Aglæca - September 04, 2016, 01:40 PM
RE: You don't own me - by Kjalarr - September 04, 2016, 01:59 PM