Stone Circle i do not deserve to be a phoenix, i deserve to be consumed

Wardruna does not fail to notice that he does not hear additional sounds of eating and he rolls his functioning eye at her — though as that side does not face her he is confident it goes unnoticed. He hesitates: torn between the unspoken threat he’s made in the last command and his honest desire to finish his meal first. Why should he have to sacrifice for her stubbornness; but it is not fresh meat and so a few minutes makes no difference in quality of the meat. Frankly, it’s disgusting. He wants fresh carrion, he desires the warmth of freshly caught food and the taste of blood upon his tongue. Not the bottom of the cache because it will be spoiled and he’s so fucking desperate that he cannot face the humiliation or the consequences of going hungry. Wardruna needs his energy, he needs his mind sharp and not dulled by the lack of food; he needs to be on top of his game, to be the a viper hiding among garden snakes. For the moment, he deduces: he will humor her. Allow her to turn her nose up at the food: the freshest he can find at the top of the cache no less while he sups. Once he has polished off his meal, however, was a different story all together.

“That means you’re mine.” Wardruna explains ‘thrall’ to her between bites, tearing another chunk of meat. His translation is not perfect but he knows that she’s smart enough to understand what he means. It was, in comparison, a nice way of putting it. Vague but effective, he believes. He returns to his meal to rip another chunk free and chew, left ear pivoting towards her, attentive, almost …eager to hear what she had to say to it. In the end though, it remains true. They’d struck a deal, after all and he stands the victor — though he acknowledges that if he cannot inspire her to eat, to stop fighting his attempts to nurse her back to health his victory will be for naught.