January 19, 2017, 01:30 PM
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It was the jovial shouting, raised in pitch whose tail end Kjalarr caught after Thor’s thunder diminished as his mighty anvil rose that drew the viking’s attention. It was enough, even if it was for the briefest of moments, to distract him from what he few options he faced. As feeding his curiosity was much better than facing his bleak and potentially grim options as he regarded the error of his fool’s choice he hesitated, wondering whether it was wise to seek the other out or perhaps stick to himself, lay low and go unnoticed. He had not expected company, not really. While he very vaguely had been aware of a pack that had claimed these lands long ago he knew them long to be gone, with their absence the territory freed to the Wilds once more. Besides, he rather thought loners would be racing against the clock that potentially spelled their doom. Not from starvation — the frozen corpses were many and he, himself, would not go hungry whether he chose to stay or risk the return trip to Neverwinter — but from the possibility of freezing to death.
The woodland provided a break from the ivory snow that allowed him to pick out the other male with relative ease, despite his monochromic and the winter landscape around them. The other was pale, as he was and staring at him from where he sat, giving Kjalarr a slight start having not realized that he was so close. Kjalarr’s tail lashed against his hocks as the longer fur at his nape ruffled with surprise though not hostility. “You sound awfully excited about the storm,” Kjalarr broke his silence after his salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls, leathery, black nostrils flaring as he drank in the other’s scent. “It could mean the end of our days.” He’d thought the locust swarm had been Ragnarok but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe this was Ragnarok, or maybe like the locust it would come and it would pass. At least this time the likelihood of him being pushed to the extreme of cannibalism again was very small (if non existent).
[/td][/tr][/table]The woodland provided a break from the ivory snow that allowed him to pick out the other male with relative ease, despite his monochromic and the winter landscape around them. The other was pale, as he was and staring at him from where he sat, giving Kjalarr a slight start having not realized that he was so close. Kjalarr’s tail lashed against his hocks as the longer fur at his nape ruffled with surprise though not hostility. “You sound awfully excited about the storm,” Kjalarr broke his silence after his salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls, leathery, black nostrils flaring as he drank in the other’s scent. “It could mean the end of our days.” He’d thought the locust swarm had been Ragnarok but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe this was Ragnarok, or maybe like the locust it would come and it would pass. At least this time the likelihood of him being pushed to the extreme of cannibalism again was very small (if non existent).
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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
my spirit spurns control - by Kjalarr - January 13, 2017, 01:52 PM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Birk - January 14, 2017, 04:17 PM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Kjalarr - January 19, 2017, 01:30 PM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Birk - January 26, 2017, 02:29 PM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Kjalarr - January 29, 2017, 06:43 AM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Birk - January 29, 2017, 07:08 AM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Kjalarr - February 05, 2017, 06:24 AM
RE: my spirit spurns control - by Birk - February 05, 2017, 01:21 PM