Jade Fern Grove ᛁᛋᛉᛁᛚᛋ

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ᚦ — he listens with intent. hearing her words, the emotions that guide them. it is like a great river flooding from her tongue, constricted by the currents of anger, grief. draugr feels himself, even, be pulled beneath to drown in it.
he feels such anger take hold. that this woman had suffered such, at the hands of a weak man. he would draw her close if she allowed, but knows it is not meant to be yet. she is a woman who suffers in silence, as draugr prefers his suffering the same. he exhales, a warm breath.
he exhales his anger.
þú brennur bjartari þrátt fyrir það. he understands why she is not so keen to trust him. to let him close. and he knows patience, despite what another may say. the norseman draws himself to lay across from her, the feet between taut, and looks into the distance as if a great fire draws there.
segðu mér frá börnunum þínum. a request. he has never met any of his own; he does not even know the names of mothers. but he knows they are out there, far, far. looking to the pale woman then. jafnvel þeir sem Frigg elskar nú.