the morning fog clings to the low ground, soft and pale like ash over a battlefield. wildflowers have grown bold in the blood-fed soil, dotting color into the stone circle with the birth of spring.
sigvard moves among the pillars, muscle rolling beneath his dark coat, golden eyes bright with an untamed glint. the wind combs his fur like a hand through a warrior’s hair. he carries no wounds now from his spar with drougr, only memory. pleasant ones.
he stops at the heart of the stone circle—where the earth is most worn, most sacred—and exhales a slow breath. drops his haunches to lay, sprawling beneath the sun.
sigvard moves among the pillars, muscle rolling beneath his dark coat, golden eyes bright with an untamed glint. the wind combs his fur like a hand through a warrior’s hair. he carries no wounds now from his spar with drougr, only memory. pleasant ones.
he stops at the heart of the stone circle—where the earth is most worn, most sacred—and exhales a slow breath. drops his haunches to lay, sprawling beneath the sun.
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warcry - by Siggvard - April 20, 2025, 12:14 AM
RE: warcry - by Leifa - April 23, 2025, 05:18 AM