Duskfire Glacier skyhold

irritation nips at sjórreykr like the fierce and frigid winters winds howl. endlessly, as of late. unaided by the complaining of his companion — a thrall sent with him, carrier of the dried, seasalted meats in a thick pelt scoured from a rabbit.

the thrall's voice drowns on, grating on his nerves as the days bleed into nights.

as the pair reaches the glacier and twilight bleeds its way into the sky, sjórreykr halts suddenly. so suddenly, his companion bumps into him; sucking in a breath.

så gå! snaps the northman, the rough northern tongue a precious piece of home. forlate! jeg vil ikke ha deg her. he turns sharply on the thrall, teeth snapping at chilled air; threatening.

glacial gaze watches the thrall shrink down upon themselves, grip slackening on the fur of meats they cradle. their tail tucks and their ears slick back and a low growl rises in sjor's throat, lips curling back to expose this teeth.

endelig er du stille. la maten. det er ikke for deg. words spit like venom; satisfaction leeching itself into sjor's shoulders as he shifts his weight, watching as the thrall takes off the way they had come.