Lion Head Mesa the darkest side of me

"i am eivor of kvarsheim. formerly of brattahlíð. skjaldmaer to the court of the brothers lodbrok, sven and ujurak." she had not risen, indeed her pose had not relinquished its show of goodwill relaxation.

had he meant to unbalance her by alluding that she was no more than a woman inside rotation? he did not know her, but bit toward what he perceived to be feminine insecurity with an adder's strike. eivor treated him to a long look.

as akavir could not calm his upright bristle, nor could eivor quite hide the tension of her shoulders — and she did not want the priest to go without seeing it.

he was trapped in this room with them, not the other way around.

"i am one such warrior and resource. i ache for battle, priest. bless us and send us tonight," she joked, though it was not quite a jest, and over her grinning mouth had her grey eyes become swordsteel.

akavir had spoken in bare truth: they believed themselves gods. eivor would show akashingo that priests could bleed if this senmut did not choose his next words with care.