ode to the fallen (m)

Thistle didn't say anything merely pursed her lips at the mention of being worth it. How losing your sight and not being able to see for favor, was a good thing she didn't know. But leave it to her husband to make it a good thing. Thistle chuckled softly and shook her head All of you is attractive Ragnar your scars just give you character. Unlike her husband Thistle had not seen such things as battle and maiming and decay.

Ragnar may have thought he wouldn't die, but it still scared her. She was a worrier, and she had not doubt if she had such a grievous injury, it would bother him and worry him. But perhaps not, she wasn't too sure. Physical ailments didn't seem to bother him like they should on anyone. It was strange to her. Thistle had been angry and hurt, simply because she loved him. He had the power to absolutely break her if he wanted too, and she didn't think he even knew it. It was the way of things. She was a spitfire, a wild thing when angry and she knew that. She supposed at this point he knew it too.