dream in black and white

The yelp the second born Nameless let out might have been loud enough to deter another but, instead, simply encouraged Ein, fueling the fire, spreading it’s warmth through his chest as he snapped eagerly, with much more ferociousness than was needed for their game of play unknowing of his own strength, at Tveir’s paws each time the Second Born tried to push him off. His own paws were constantly shifting, scuffling up dirt and dust as he growled in an almost cutesy puppy way, enjoying the thrill of the game, trying to go at Tveir from all the angles as they presented themselves to him in his blurry vision. The other boy gummed harmlessly at the eldest Nameless’ shoulder and ear, effective in covering it in sticky saliva. Probably a thinly veiled attempt at payback from the times that Ein sucked on his ears in lieu of being unable to suck on what he really wanted which was milk but for whatever reason — be it his inability to find Thistle or because Ragnar was watching them for a time he had made due with what he had been offered. …Or rather taken.

A breathless of a coo burst Ein’s parted lips at his brother’s grunts of effort, his infant attempt at a laugh though he had yet to master the sound of mirth. For a moment he took a breather, allowing his brother to tug at the downy fur of his night dusted shoulder pausing to glimpse up at Ragnar who was contented with watching them. Like a flash (well it was super fast to him anyway) he lunged down and gummed at his brother’s squirming cheek before he plopped his haunches down in an attempt to sit on the squirming Tveir, one paw pressed down on the curve of the Second Born’s chest, the other stabilizing Ein on the ground. Having seen something he didn’t like Ragnar suddenly scooped Ein up and off of Tveir by the scruff. Instinctively, Ein curled into a ball as he was man handled lifted into the air letting out a protesting cry in a But I was winning, Father!, indignant manner.

“You fought like men,” Ragnar chuckled after he set Ein down with his leg as a barrier between the two boys. “But your mother might kill me if I don’t encourage you to play nicer with one another.” As soon as Ein was free of his father’s jaws he lunged at the man’s leg attempting to catapult himself over it only to unceremoniously get stuck little legs kicking in a swimming fashion as he attempted to squirm over Ragnar’s leg, seeking his brother for assistance.