The morning was fair when Ragnar had parted from Stavanger Bay, his destination Northward bound though in truth it was not he that had any real destination in mind. He had finished his early morning patrols before the sun had even began it's ascension into the sky, breaking past the arch way of stone just as it had began to peek over the horizon, casting the morning in a fiery, golden glow. The tide was low, the salt water cool as it rushed to greet him, splashing against his legs leaving cool kisses along platnium silver fur and heated flesh beneath. The waters had long since washed away Bragi's tracks an even his scent but Ragnar knew the boy could not have gotten too far ahead of him. Perhaps tracking the boy was wrong. Perhaps it was an invasion of privacy that not even being Jarl excused when it was breeched; but the boy was gone more than he was in the Bay and that rose not only Ragnar's curiousity but also a small measure of alarm bells. Bragi was eager to be an Outrider, Ragnar knew, and traveling was in his blood as a Viking but even so if he was simply out exploring Ragnar could not understand why the boy did not seek to inform him of his findings to that Ragnar could consider giving him the apprenticeship title. As it was Bragi avoided him as if he had concocted the plague and for reasons that once, Ragnar had not dared to look at too closely it bothered him.
Lying to himself was nearly as bad as lying to everyone else. There was no real mystery of whose loins Bragi had been borne from, and though Ragnar had taken Sveið in the heat of battle, as the high of adrenaline and the Berserker rage coursed through his blood like the blood of the All-Father he had not been impared. He remembered. Of course he remembered, it was hard to forget that magnitude of ferocity and beauty. Hard to forget, even, how she had went from the small girl he had picked on growing up into the a beautiful woman; the best shield-maiden Odinn's Cove had ever known. Forgetting the glory of their union was impossible; ignoring the fact that it had felt right to make something that belonged to the both of them through flesh and blood was wrong. It was only a shame, Ragnar thought, that Bragi had not taken more from his mother. They were too much alike, Bragi and him, by far more alike than Ragnar was to Crete's bastards. It only stood to reason, after all. Bragi was his and the children were Crete's. The only living child he had sired, when in reality Ragnar should have taken the shield-maiden as his wife instead of Dagmar. If he would have...he did not imagine how things might have been different because there was no point. Only, he knew things would have been different. That much was obvious.
Ragnar had Sveið had agreed to keep Bragi a secret and so Ragnar had. He had not told anyone about it and, if possible, he kept it from himself until he no longer thought about it. Until he had almost forgotten about it. Thistle's assumptions were correct yet, still, Ragnar desired to keep it from her. He would not so easily break his promise to the shield-maiden he had made it too; and as much as Ragnar wanted to see Sveið again he knew it was better that she stay away. He had enough problems on his shoulders with Thistle's jealousy over Nerian and the confusing affection he felt for his Priestess without adding too it. Especial by re-kindling a fire he had managed to reduce to embers. His "love" life was complicated enough without adding a third women in the mix, and not just any woman at that: the mother of his only blood child. That mixture would not bode well, he knew. Swiftly, he shook his head to dispel the thoughts of her. They were dangerous and would only serve him to be in trouble and possibly alone.
It had been a nagging that had urged Ragnar to follow Bragi at a safe distance. Perhaps the boy was just exploring, or perhaps, and this was not something Ragnar could fault him for: he was exploring other pack options. Thistle ha not been kind to him, and Ragnar was not so ignorant to the discomfort he have Bragi. Along the walk Ragnar's pace had slowed until he had lost the boy's trail all together, hesitating on the outskirts of Sea Lion Shore. Ypres had declared them her 'thinking grounds' but they were still considered his hunting grounds. Eve so, he was in no mood to deal with her today. He could not say for certain it wouldn't be the day when he finally laid into the elegant curve of her soft throat.
With his purpose having been allowe to slip from betwixt his paws he, instead, turned his eyes skyward, taking in the stars that littered the sky and in his solitude, allowed his mind to wonder once more.
Now here she was, staring at the black and distant horizon in the night, where one could only tell the difference between the sea and sky by where the stars began. If Red could walk on water, she would have, just to move past the ocean to see the land on the other side. This urge… this affliction that caused her to need to explore was costing her time with her packmates, but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it. And what was the point, anyways, since she was a terrible speaker and always seemed to have a hard time getting her point across to anyone besides a select few individuals?
She sighed and sat down in the sand of the southwestern edge of what she did not know was called the Sea Lion Shores. So lost in her thoughts was she that she did not notice the scent of another wolf nearby…
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| It was hard not to think of Sveið and wrong, Ragnar understood, that he did. He had a wife now that he loved, something he had before garnered that was impossible. Especially now, with Bragi's appearance and mysterious birth unto the world she crept into Ragnar's mind, forbidden but defiant, and with her the memories of what he had done and the very real knowledge that Bragi was, indeed, his son. He had the mind to keep it to himself and pretend that the boy was nothing more than a bastard of Váli's, to not confirm Thistle's suspicions that would, likely, only lead to outrageous fits of jealousy from her if Sveið ever did make an appearance in Stavanger Bay to be with Bragi. Ragnar realized he could not claim that a part of him did not love the child's mother. She was the mother of his true born son...his only living flesh and blood child. That was not something he could turn off even if he had wanted too. It was only after the heavy weight of those realizations pushed down upon his shoulders that Ragnar knew he had to keep his secret as safe as he could. Or rather yet, let them assume what they would and remain indifferent of the boy. It felt wrong to ignore his only true born son; to expose the knowledge felt risky. Ragnar's attention was shifted from the sky, earth bound as his ears twitched and the muscles pulled taunt beneath his coat of platinum silver at the sound of approaching footfalls through the sand. The noise would have been drowned out by the sea if the waters would not have been relatively calm. In comparison the shift of sand beneath paws was tell-tale and easily distinguished. Eyes of Caribbean ice moved to first seek the silhouette that became more defined the closer she came to him. She had stopped, sitting upon her haunches with a heavy sigh having, it seemed, failed to notice him. For a moment the scarred Scandinavian was contented to study her, debating whether he wanted to make his presence known to her or not. For a few moments he remained silent though hardly out of sight and after a few more seconds of deliberation the Northman finally let out a soft chuff to announce his presence to her. What she decided to do with it was her choice to make. |
Red continued to stare ahead of her at the vast body of water she didn’t know was called an ocean. She had never seen a body of water this big. She had seen plenty of huge lakes before, but never one so big that she couldn’t see the land on the other side. And she had never seen one whose shores moved back and forth, crashing into the sand. She was entranced. The nighttime wasn’t helping her awe, either, since it was keeping her from seeing all that she could have, which lent this place a mysteriousness about it. She was so mesmerized, in fact, that the silvery-white wolf’s chuff of greeting nearly made her jump out of her skin.
She yelped and got up and turned to face the potential threat in less than three seconds, her hackles raised in alarm. But when she studied the male for a moment, she realized that he didn’t seem to be wanting to harm her, so she settled back down. She gave a chuff right back, ears going forward in curiosity to ask, Who’re you?
She hadn’t expected to find anyone out here, but now that she had, her natural curiosity quickly took over. That and her Outrider instincts, which pushed her to learn all she could about others. It was something she had learned to live with long ago. Sometimes it made her friends, and sometimes it made her enemies. Either way, at least she learned who to stay away from and who she could trust. Hopefully this rugged looking he-wolf wouldn’t mind.
| It quickly became apparent to the scarred Scandinavian that the woman cloaked in a fair coat of red, as far as the moonlight allowed him to see of it, that she had not noticed him. It was an unusual occurrence for his platinum silver coat did not grant him the advantage of camouflage. At least not in the dark, and not in such a colorful backdrop. Still, he noticed that her gaze was not to him, instead fixated upon the vast view of the ocean stretched out before them and he couldn't help the soft tug of a coy smirk at the edges of his lips. He assumed that it was her first time seeing it, though for all Ragnar really knew she could have seen it as many times as he and simply fell in love with it over and over again so that it seemed like the first time. He could not imagine every living anywhere other than near the ocean and wondered how wolves did it. Then again, Odinn's Cove had been near an ocean and it had been an unlimited access to them, just as important as the sun and the moon to his culture and people.
As his chuff finally reached the woman's ears she let out a loud yelp of surprise which echoed through the quiet and stillness of the night that had previous surrounded them, scaring some sandpipers which scuttled quickly away from them. Ragnar's stance remained neutral even as her hackles raised at him, supposing that he deserved it for startling her. "It was not my intention to startle you," He told the lovely creature as he paused in his approach, near enough that she could hear his soft, heavily accented voice without him needing to raise it. She asked for his name and a moment of silence followed in the wake of her question as he pondered if he should give her his actual name or use his moniker. "I am Heimdall," The Northman gave her, not really liking to give out his name on command. Old habits, it seemed, were very hard to break. "Who might you be?" He inquired after a few moments, turning his own curiosity upon her. |
Red nodded at the silver wolf’s apology of sorts. She had been able to tell almost immediately that he hadn’t wanted to scare her, so she was already over and done with that. She logged his name away when he gave it, but then hesitated when he asked for hers. Eventually, she gave a short bark: Red.
She paused. This was an odd sort of introduction to someone, especially so late at night, and she honestly had no idea what to do or say next, especially considering she didn’t often speak aloud.
Awkwardly, she swallowed, and then dipped her head in greeting and turned back to the ocean. If he wanted to talk to her, he would stay. If not, he would leave. Either way, she didn’t mind, although there was something about the male that intimidated her. He was big and had a mean-looking scar across one side of his face, which she could see even in the dark. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with whoever this Heimdall was. His voice was thickly accented, though she could still understand it. But it made her wonder where he was from.
She was probably about to find out, but in the meantime, she continued to stare at the starry sky and the rolling waves of the ocean, which she already knew she’d be returning to time and again. It was beautiful here. She wondered if the sunlight would enhance its beauty or not.
| As he spoke Heimdall there was a brief and errant nagging in the back of his mind of a single wondering: why he hadn't used it as a moniker earlier? Why he had ever chosen to use Björn knowing and feeling no remorse that he had killed him for a woman whose intrigue was lost upon him the moment she was his and for their father. It was a bloody name but it had been something of a common name and Ragnar had had a deception to keep up with. Heimdall was too suspicious given that it was the name of a God. The scarred Scandinavian was pulled from his thoughts when she barked out her name short and simple for him to remember. Red. Ragnar waited for something to follow, for anything, but only silence engulfed them. Not complete silence given their location but verbal communication had ceased between them. It was a silence Ragnar did not rush to fill, finding comfort in it. He was not always the most talkative, and it was only when he glimpsed at her again after having followed suit to her cue of looking back to the ocean, watching the moonlight dance against the constant ebb and flow of the water, did he understand that his presence probably made her nervous. He had nothing to prove it aside from the fact that she did not seem very relaxed to him and even if she was intimidated by him he'd take no offense to it. "You are from The Sunspire, yes?" Ragnar had been there once before and had spoken with their Beta, Jace. He recognized the scent upon her well enough and wondered if it might open the door for a conversation. |