Raven's Watch [m] α

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behind him regnvand crouched, and before him the darkpelt man gazed her way with a possessiveness that skorpa recognized well. had he not seen it in a thousand plundering faces? leverage was here in the face of her reticence, and the exile meant to use it.

now Loki played a pretty game, and to hear the first cadence of familiar tongue brought a billowing, pleased chuckle from skorpa, the sound of a man who has found his equal. firstly did this stranger cement his claim to pretty thrall, offering violence on the altar of their shared axeblade.

"du er ikke god til at lytte," skorpa said in selfsame assurance, a man with proverbial hand to swordhaft. a smile dazzled his bloody teeth in splendid glitter. "jeg sagde, at hun ikke vil tilhøre dig."

a long breath taken. blood. rot, not only wafted from his own fur but the figure of the woman behind him. step taken, another gained, a saunter from skorpa which might have shifted blade to dominant palm. "jeg kan også se, at hun er skadet."

some slight space only divided skorpa now from the drengr who meant to claim his prize, and for no reason save his own self-interest did the exile make himself an obstacle. "er du parat til at dø for en lemlæstet træl?"

in truth, there was no immediate benefit to fighting for her. the benefit lay in having what another man coveted. so long as she crumpled at his back, skorpa believed this was tacit acceptance of his own prevailing against her captor. "jeg kan helbrede. du kan dele. eller du kan være dum." arched brow, stare as unyielding as the thunderhead expression upon the warrior's face.

ah. was this it then? "du kommer ikke til Valhalla ved at slås om indmad," was his final rejoinder before he stepped back, forelegs widening in battlestance, shoulders readied for it.

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