Dragoncrest Cliffs [BWP] A Lyke Wake Dirge

Towards the end of his dirge Njord realized he entertained an audience, but kept his head respectfully bowed throughout his performance. As he crooned the last few lines of his hymn the wind seemed to die down and a silent calm came over the clearing. The boy approached – just as somber as Njord – and begged the question, who is Atlan?

Njord turned his sad, blue eyes towards the youth. This was Valravn, the lost son of Erzulie and Rosalyn who had been chased off by a bear (Sapphique didn’t seem to have much luck with the Ursus). Younger sibling to Raleska. Kaertok had searched high and low for the youth, eventually delivering him back to the pack. This was supposed to be a happy time.

He was dark and sooty all over, not even a yearling. His pubescent proportions made him see ill-prepared for the hearty winter ahead of him, but Njord knew if had an ounce of salt that his mothers maintained, that he would be alright. Unlike Raleska’s leering yellow eyes, Valravn’s gaze was inquisitive and kind. He didn’t deserve to lose family in such a violent way.

“’Ello lad,” Njord said quietly with a melancholy undercurrent to his words. “Some say Atlan is a god. Other’s say Atlan is tha sea itself. Some think ‘es a boy. Other’s say a girl. My family wer’shiped ‘em back on tha island… but Atlan could be cruel and made my family do cruel things…” Njord looked at the blood on the ground. “I never much believed in ‘em. Why would I want ta follow such a cold-blooded dei-ty? Funny how thinkin’ of Atlan brings me some comfort, right now.”

He frowned, looking back to Valravn. “Or maybe I jus miss grieven’ together, an watchin the sea reclaim those who ‘av left us.” He paused for a moment. “Sit with me?” he asked, wanting some company.