December 09, 2024, 10:14 AM
the frostbitten air clung to sólhárr as he crossed into the sacred grounds of forneskja, his broad frame bearing the marks of his brutal conquest. dried blood streaked the fur around his marred eye, and though the pain burned like fire beneath his skin, he pressed forward, unyielding. he carried the weight of the cache with him, the fruits of his grueling labor, his body both weary and triumphant.
his steps slowed as he neared the den—a place that, despite the cold hardness of his nature, stirred something primal and possessive within him. the faint scent of callyope reached him first, her essence weaving through the air like a balm. his single good eye flicked toward the shadowed entrance, where her presence lingered, drawing him in like the tide.
with a low grunt, sólhárr ducked his head and entered, his massive form filling the space. the fire-bright gaze of his intended greeted him, and without hesitation, he moved to her side, brushing his bloodied fur against hers in a deliberate, claiming motion. the roughness of his touch spoke volumes, an unspoken declaration of both his triumph and his exhaustion.
his eye flicked briefly to the cache he had stored nearby, the fruits of his labor awaiting their purpose. but for now, he stayed close, grounding himself in the presence of the woman who would soon share his name.
his steps slowed as he neared the den—a place that, despite the cold hardness of his nature, stirred something primal and possessive within him. the faint scent of callyope reached him first, her essence weaving through the air like a balm. his single good eye flicked toward the shadowed entrance, where her presence lingered, drawing him in like the tide.
with a low grunt, sólhárr ducked his head and entered, his massive form filling the space. the fire-bright gaze of his intended greeted him, and without hesitation, he moved to her side, brushing his bloodied fur against hers in a deliberate, claiming motion. the roughness of his touch spoke volumes, an unspoken declaration of both his triumph and his exhaustion.
it is done,he rumbled, the words grating from his throat as he sank to his haunches, his breath visible in the chilled air. his battered form leaned subtly into her warmth, finding a fleeting solace in her proximity. though he would not speak of the pain or the battle, his presence alone was a testament to his resolve and the sacrifices he had made.
his eye flicked briefly to the cache he had stored nearby, the fruits of his labor awaiting their purpose. but for now, he stayed close, grounding himself in the presence of the woman who would soon share his name.
norse·
common
December 09, 2024, 02:32 PM
she lingered somewhere between sleep and waking.
a shifting of winds, a thought that she heard something. her beloved walked far to prove his intentions. forneskja churned with change welcomed.
moonspear had come to them in the form of a child.
and forneskja went to moonspear in need of healing.
moonglow had visited in the face of a bright nephew, full of promise and hope.
the bodies within forneskja found their places. continued their steady paces of learning and establishing among one another. everything flourished with ease. yet something gnawed at callyope. restless and yearning. perhaps it was the absence of her beloved. she knew she had picked right for her to miss him so fiercely and to keep things smooth in his absence.
the shifting winds.
they bring the scent of winter and blood. her eyes are wide for but a moment, then soften to see who has come. he is welcomed near and she is wordless for his returned presence. half not believing it! he is battered, bruised. she nearly missed the more demanding wound he carried — a missing eye. gone. a beloved thing taken from him.
from her.
her mouth parted as if she might finally say something.
nothing. only the breeze.
she buried herself into him. she let her own body carry the weight of his now, let herself absorb the scents he had brought home. for now the world was only them.
a shifting of winds, a thought that she heard something. her beloved walked far to prove his intentions. forneskja churned with change welcomed.
moonspear had come to them in the form of a child.
and forneskja went to moonspear in need of healing.
moonglow had visited in the face of a bright nephew, full of promise and hope.
the bodies within forneskja found their places. continued their steady paces of learning and establishing among one another. everything flourished with ease. yet something gnawed at callyope. restless and yearning. perhaps it was the absence of her beloved. she knew she had picked right for her to miss him so fiercely and to keep things smooth in his absence.
the shifting winds.
they bring the scent of winter and blood. her eyes are wide for but a moment, then soften to see who has come. he is welcomed near and she is wordless for his returned presence. half not believing it! he is battered, bruised. she nearly missed the more demanding wound he carried — a missing eye. gone. a beloved thing taken from him.
from her.
her mouth parted as if she might finally say something.
nothing. only the breeze.
she buried herself into him. she let her own body carry the weight of his now, let herself absorb the scents he had brought home. for now the world was only them.
December 09, 2024, 02:41 PM
primal and untamed, towering in the quiet intimacy of their den. the wear of his journey clung to him—bloodied fur, marred flesh, and the hollow socket where his eye had once been. but his presence carried something undeniable: victory. claim. her scent wrapped around him as she buried herself into him, her silence as steady as the earth beneath their paws.
his. his wife. his woman.
he pressed his nose into her fur, inhaling her warmth as though it was the only thing that could soothe the storm within. then, with the weight of a conqueror, he stepped back just far enough to gesture toward the outside. his heavy breath carried the unspoken tale of his triumphs: the cache of foxes, their pure pelts pristine in the cold. the otters, seven strong, strung together by his own labor. the lynxes, their fierce grace now lifeless trophies. the seal, glistening wet by the stream, its thick fat promising bounty. and lastly, the ram—its dark, bloodied horns testament to the battle that had taken his eye.
he turned back to her, his single eye blazing, his voice a low growl brimming with finality.
there was no room for argument in his tone, no hesitation in his movements. he leaned against her, primal and demanding, yet with the faintest flicker of reverence—a man who had hunted the world itself to bring it to her paws.
his. his wife. his woman.
he pressed his nose into her fur, inhaling her warmth as though it was the only thing that could soothe the storm within. then, with the weight of a conqueror, he stepped back just far enough to gesture toward the outside. his heavy breath carried the unspoken tale of his triumphs: the cache of foxes, their pure pelts pristine in the cold. the otters, seven strong, strung together by his own labor. the lynxes, their fierce grace now lifeless trophies. the seal, glistening wet by the stream, its thick fat promising bounty. and lastly, the ram—its dark, bloodied horns testament to the battle that had taken his eye.
he turned back to her, his single eye blazing, his voice a low growl brimming with finality.
no more waiting,he rumbled. his breath warmed her ear, his teeth brushing lightly against her neck in a gesture both possessive and tender.
in the morning, cally-ope. you will be mine, fully. my wife.
there was no room for argument in his tone, no hesitation in his movements. he leaned against her, primal and demanding, yet with the faintest flicker of reverence—a man who had hunted the world itself to bring it to her paws.
you have waited long enough, elska. now, i take you.
norse·
common
December 09, 2024, 03:07 PM
she had never seen a bride price before.
she cannot hide the awe and shock that weaved together along her face. say something, her mind urged and yet her heart felt as if it swelled too large. that it blocked any voice from coming free.
her pulse leapt to greet where his teeth touched.
"my wife."
her gaze stayed fix to the mass of his work. it would need to be moved up to moonglow. he would need to rally his hunters and warriors.
she needed to prepare. she needed to make herself look like a wife! she need to — she was so dizzied by it all she nearly fell into him. she was breathless! it was laughter that broke her first, a misty gaze in her amber eyes now.
just for her.
there was a fire in her so demanding that she thought she might burn him. she is reaching for his face, to place a kiss near where an eye should be. to kiss at cheek, jaw and chin.
she cannot hide the awe and shock that weaved together along her face. say something, her mind urged and yet her heart felt as if it swelled too large. that it blocked any voice from coming free.
her pulse leapt to greet where his teeth touched.
"my wife."
her gaze stayed fix to the mass of his work. it would need to be moved up to moonglow. he would need to rally his hunters and warriors.
she needed to prepare. she needed to make herself look like a wife! she need to — she was so dizzied by it all she nearly fell into him. she was breathless! it was laughter that broke her first, a misty gaze in her amber eyes now.
moonglow —she finally managed as she shoved herself into him.
take luhtar. bring this to moonglow. let them hear your voice —and yet she was not letting herself part from him. this man who had brought so much just for her.
just for her.
there was a fire in her so demanding that she thought she might burn him. she is reaching for his face, to place a kiss near where an eye should be. to kiss at cheek, jaw and chin.
December 09, 2024, 03:15 PM
sólhárr’s body was weary, his muscles sore from the weight of his sacrifice, yet her touch renewed him in ways no rest could. he stood firm against her storm, the fire in her eyes igniting something primal in him. his lips trembled, parting to exhale the tension wound so tightly within him.
her laughter, her fire, her awe—it consumed him. she kissed him, her warmth igniting against his skin, and he leaned into her touch as though seeking absolution in the embrace of his woman, his wife, his future.
he pulled away just enough to meet her amber gaze, the fire of his own resolve sparking like steel against flint. this was no simple task, but it was a duty he bore proudly—for her, for them.
my wife,he murmured into her furs, the words deep and raw, pulled from the core of him. he closed his one good eye as she reached for him, her touch melting away the ache that lingered in his torn flesh. the other, ruined and mangled, was a scar now—a mark of the price he had paid for her, gladly given.
her laughter, her fire, her awe—it consumed him. she kissed him, her warmth igniting against his skin, and he leaned into her touch as though seeking absolution in the embrace of his woman, his wife, his future.
i go,he rumbled, his voice low, quiet, as though meant only for her.
but not before i breathe the air of my wife. hear her prayers.his teeth brushed gently against her ear, a fleeting promise, before his body stiffened with purpose once more.
i will take luhtar. i will bring this to moonglow,he agreed, his breath hot against her neck.
and they will hear my voice as they have never before.
he pulled away just enough to meet her amber gaze, the fire of his own resolve sparking like steel against flint. this was no simple task, but it was a duty he bore proudly—for her, for them.
norse·
common
December 13, 2024, 11:41 AM
his wife.
his.
forever, eternity theirs and in this moment it felt like eternity. only them and the heavy scents of his bounty. in him she saw husband, hunter, Hárkonungr.
she kissed him again and again.
these actions were her prayers. unspoken but held to her heart.
she nursed forneskja, she cared for those within.
she cared for him most of all.
a word whispered soft in the wild tangles of his autumn fur.
his.
forever, eternity theirs and in this moment it felt like eternity. only them and the heavy scents of his bounty. in him she saw husband, hunter, Hárkonungr.
she kissed him again and again.
these actions were her prayers. unspoken but held to her heart.
let us share air and breath,she told him in soft voice.
feel our love, hjartsláttur.she sought to use teeth and tongue to clean the worst of his fur. to show her love in such worshipful acts now. there was no surprise in her to feel such an ease to tending him.
she nursed forneskja, she cared for those within.
she cared for him most of all.
husband.
a word whispered soft in the wild tangles of his autumn fur.
December 13, 2024, 12:14 PM
sólhárr was undone by her, as he always was. her touch, her voice, the very way she breathed life into his name—it unraveled the threads of his composure, leaving only the man beneath. she kissed him, again and again, and he received her with a reverence that bordered on desperation, as though each kiss was a piece of her soul that he could carry with him forever.
his golden eyes softened as he gazed down at her, her worshipful care drawing a quiet rumble of approval from his chest. when her voice whispered “husband,” it filled him with a pride so fierce it threatened to split him apart. she, his wife, his callyope, his everything.
he leaned into her touch, letting her tongue and teeth work through the tangles of his fur. her love was felt in every motion, every glance, every whispered word. sólhárr lifted a paw to rest gently against her side, a grounding touch as his head dipped to brush his nose along her cheek.
his golden eyes softened as he gazed down at her, her worshipful care drawing a quiet rumble of approval from his chest. when her voice whispered “husband,” it filled him with a pride so fierce it threatened to split him apart. she, his wife, his callyope, his everything.
you are my breath, my world,he murmured, the broken cadence of his common tongue softened by the rawness of his emotion.
you tend me... as no other can.
he leaned into her touch, letting her tongue and teeth work through the tangles of his fur. her love was felt in every motion, every glance, every whispered word. sólhárr lifted a paw to rest gently against her side, a grounding touch as his head dipped to brush his nose along her cheek.
you are my hjartsláttur,he said lowly, the word rolling off his tongue like a vow. his heart beat in rhythm with hers, and he knew, in this eternal moment, that their love would carry them through all things.
norse·
common
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »