Stone Circle the one minute. the soldier's minute.

the chill in the air, the coming months bring with it a sort of unbridled excitement in ingram. and only because it meant it would be ... easier ... to add to his threadbone collection.

more carcasses from prey that met unfortunate ends! unable to survive the harsh wintermonths.

already, he feels the calling.

to spill his bones upon the hoarfrost ground and lose himself in what they whisper to him.

an itch — narcissistic and even masochistic! — to read his own future; wanting to know what paths they might whisper for him.

but he resists! for the moment, at least.

instead, he aims to burn that desire and energy off upon the borders; sweeping along them like a cloaked assassin.

Sven wasn't as adventurous as his sister and brothers, but he tried. Today he found himself near the borders where a wolf cloaked a bit like him traipsed the borders with strong intent.

He seemed a little forceful in his walking amd Sven beong a happy go lucky pup, wondered briefly at the seriousness of such a nature.

However, he moved closer and attempted to mirror the mans steps. He was helping right? He was on the border patrol. This one he thought hia name was Ingram, but he didn't know much more than that.

A soft paw step, though he stopped to sniff at a nearby flower and then a bug. The air was changing and sometimes it felt good and others biting.

the children find him. first, astrid and now the freckled boy, whose name ingram does not know.

a glimpse over his shoulder was given when he heard the soft footfalls of young paws yet too big for their bodies. at first, ingram does not draw attention to the fact that he has a young shadow; unknowingly delving into whatever little paternal instincts he may harbor to encourage the belief of sneaking whether it was the boy's intention or not.

confidence and encouragement were key with children, ingram suspects. not things that praimfaya offered him as a cub.

are you allowed to be on the borders? asks ingram after a few minutes; breaking his silence. an innocent enough question, borne of the fact that ingram did not want an angry parent or sitter swooping down upon him.

Sven didn't know this one well, but were he to tell him he knew Astrid. He'd def ask if sisters were all crazy or just his, because Asti was well bonkers. But he loved her.

Sven nodded. Fadir and Modir say as long as an adult is there. I be sven. 

Sven looked at him amd then looked out. You is hunter like Germ?

He stepped closer to the two tone man and looked up.  Wide grey eyes in child face.

to the boy's response, ingram offers a simple non-committal noise. he is not entirely sure that he trusts the boy to be truthful but ultimately sees no point in arguing with a child.

if it was the truth, then fine. if it was a lie ... ingram had no issue ensuring that parents or sitters knew.

sven, the boy calls himself.

ingram, offers the shadowed assassin.

a question follows, a chatty child ingram is left to assume, and his ear flickers back, another glimpse over his shoulder given.

he didn't know who germ was and he isn't so sure he's okay being compared to him; but his annoyance is swept away neatly. no, ingram replies. i am a warrior. i am a seer. i am not a hunter.

Sven would not disobey his parents on purpose. At least he'd try not too, but sometimes. Well there were just so many fun things to search for and sniff at and play with. That it was very hard to stay still, but in this he was truthful. Mother and father had told him as long as adults were present or Skald, who was sort of an adult.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Ingram. He would offer a polite answer. After all mother had made sure he should be polite. And also that he never lie. It was his birthright after all to be a bringer of truth, but humble. And he tried to adhere. To show his father's grace.

Sven blinked. My modir sometimes talks of warriors, but never seers. What is it?

the boy is polite; well mannered for his young age.

ingram fights between being pleased and being amused by it. so rarely has he found a child so well mannered!

even ingram himself was not so prim and proper!

a seer, to wrap it up into words felt like he wasn't doing it justice. to be a seer was to touch, to know divinity. to be a mouthpiece, a harbinger. none of these things ingram assumes the boy would truly understand.

speaks for the gods. ingram finishes after a soft sigh.

a simple, surface skimming answer but the best one he could think to give.

Sven was a lodbruk and a Gunnar'sson and he would not change that about himself. His father raised him with manners and grace and kindness as did his mother. They had big dreams for their children, but they also wanted them kind and humble. Mannerly. So he fought to offer such grace. It was hard sometimes though. 

The man said the foreign word again. As if it were a breath of a prayer. Something to be admired and loved and important. But Sven didn't know what it was, and his parents had taught him many important things. So if this was as important as all the other things, why did he know nothing of it?

Sven blinked. But is that not bad? You dare not speak for allfather for he is mighty and well the allfather. 

Pink tongue dart out to wet lips. Steel eyes wide in head, a little squeak on the end of words. There could not be such a thing could there? And to havesuch power. This could not be an easy thing, and was it a good thing. He wasn't sure.

the boy appeared to take quite offense to ingram's words; speaking of an assumed deity called allfather. for a moment, something ugly slithers along ingram's spine. he is reminded too much of the dreadfather.

how he had draped himself in the imaginary skin of the lord of death.

how easy it would be to do so again.

no —

let me rephrase, ingram speaks; placating. seer's are speakers for the gods, but speak only what the gods tell them to speak. he struggles for a moment, fighting back his own insult at what he's about to call himself, we are messengers.

Sven wasn't upset exactly, mostly just confused. Fadir had always spoke of the allfather, that gods were above reproach. How could anyone say they could speak for them, when they spoke for you?

Sven smoothed his shoulders down as he thought of what he was saying. IT made a certain type of sense he supposed. 

What types of messages do gods send?

A small tilt of head. Ernest expression on his face. He would listen and learn if the other was willing to teach.

the boy, typical of all youth, is full of questions.

ingram, surprisingly, does not mind them.

at least, not terribly; though the shoulder raising sigh he gives as he contemplates how best to answer in a way the child would understand, might give a different impression.

many kinds, ingram replies broadly. of forture, of general things and sometimes of specific things. it depends.

No one had ever been irritated with Sven so to say he didn't recognize what the shoulder shurg and sigh could be was no lie.

Sven frowned as he thought about it. Not b3cause he didn't agree but more in wonder and thought.

So good and bad things. I bet its not easy being a messenger. I wouldn't lke to bring bad news. I bet you don't either.

Sven touched a paw to the man. You do good to have a hard job. a smile of friendliness to the man.

it is better, perhaps, to let the boy think that he has a moral compass and does not operate in a loosely grey but mostly shadowed end of it. rotten and scourged since his birth, ingram does not mind being the bearer of bad news. though, he supposed that largely depended. he tended to avoid attachments of any sort like they would bring about the plague and lacking that attachment made it easier, in his experience.

he didn't care if he was liked or not. he was the mouthpiece for the divine and it had it's burdens.

but the boy is sweet. perhaps too much, if ingram were to be asked.

it has always been my burden. my glorious purpose.

Sven felt no ill will of others yet. He felt that all were good. He had not met any badness yet. There was no darkness in his life as of yet.


Sven didn't know if he would consider it glorious. That seemwd a stretch, but the man seemed intent to feel contentment even joy for his job.

Sven nodded. Fadir says it is good to enjoy what you do.

indeed, agrees ingram absently as he pauses along the border. now, drawls the hellhound in a breath; his patience waning. children had never been his strong suit which was why he was fine for siring them but not a good choice for a father.

you should run along. surely your mother or father are looking for you by now?

Sven nodded his head. Probably Fadir. he doesn't like us far without him knowing where we are. But i figure i be okay with you. But I head back now. yea

He turned tail to run and then abruptly rushed back and quickly tapped the man in the shoulder with his nose if allowed and then backed up and ran off.

::Thanks!"