she moved through the forest low and quiet, heat whispering off her skin into the cold air. two coyote tails hung from her mouth, their fur brushing her chest with each step. no haste. no fear. only purpose.
hraun paused at a rise, head lifting, scenting for her jarl. ears tipped forward, posture intent — a shape cut from fire and restraint.
finding the trail, she turned and followed, hips swaying and body eerily close to the ground, carrying her offering through the trees.
hraun paused at a rise, head lifting, scenting for her jarl. ears tipped forward, posture intent — a shape cut from fire and restraint.
finding the trail, she turned and followed, hips swaying and body eerily close to the ground, carrying her offering through the trees.
3 hours ago
he is found within the communal glen, sitting vigil. his head lowered downwards against the thick barrel of his chest, chin brushing with each rise and fall of his chest.
he breathes evenly, quietly. undisturbed until he hears the approaching crunch of hard-packed snow underfoot.
he is pulled from his vigil with wide, enlightened blue gaze that sweeps upon her. the volja approaches with bounty and the jarl rises at once before her, shoulders thickening.
oðinn shall see what you present.
he breathes evenly, quietly. undisturbed until he hears the approaching crunch of hard-packed snow underfoot.
he is pulled from his vigil with wide, enlightened blue gaze that sweeps upon her. the volja approaches with bounty and the jarl rises at once before her, shoulders thickening.
komdu.he tells.
oðinn shall see what you present.
draugr speaks norse fluently and common sparsely. he is a 3-3-3 toon.
2 hours ago
she came to him without sound, falling into step at his side when he rose. the forest opened for them — roots, stone, old ground — until the altar emerged, worn smooth by hands and weather. she set the bounty down with care and bowed her head, heat bleeding from her skin into the cold stone.
her voice came from thegrave, shaped by scar and faith, offered to the allfather:
she stayed bowed a moment longer, then lifted her head and turned to her jarl. her eyes held his, unwavering and expectant. a spiritual glow ebbed, speaking from the roots in the depths of her irises.
her voice came from thegrave, shaped by scar and faith, offered to the allfather:
óðinn alfǫðr, sjá blóð ok spor. tak þat er veitt var, leið oss í vilja.
she stayed bowed a moment longer, then lifted her head and turned to her jarl. her eyes held his, unwavering and expectant. a spiritual glow ebbed, speaking from the roots in the depths of her irises.
þeir krefjast at þú berir þá.
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