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Post by Kelathi on Apr 8, 2019 18:20:40 GMT
She didn’t know what she had expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. He was clearly a magic user, her question was more directed to what he had been done to have been branded with such a title. Magic users were normally revered, not hounded as he appeared to be, so he must have committed some truly abhorrent deed to be accused of being connected to the wolf that was supposed to spark Ragnarok. Fenrir, the beast that was to consume the sky and the earth and wreak havoc across the nine worlds, marking the end of men and even the end of a few Gods, the All-Father Odin being one of them.
She knew there was power in this world of course, she was herself gifted with the Sight, hence her visions that often provided her with snippets of the future, albeit not always clearly and sometimes misleading. And it was true, the sagas did tell of Gods amongst men, even Odin was said to descend to Midgard on occasion, appearing as an old man in his infinite quest for knowledge. But… this stranger? A descendent of Fenrir? She was supposed to believe that because of a few cheap tricks?
She didn’t voice her doubt, but the look on her face hardly said that she believed him. As he wasn’t leaping to attack her, despite the growls he had uttered, she removed her hand from the hilt of her sword, and returned her arms to their original position, resting them on the oars again as she had been positioned before the stranger had awoken. “And who was that man, the pompous figure who cheered the loudest at your supposed demise?” she recalled the man as she spoke. She had not been able to see him very clearly through the fog, but he had seemed an imposing figure.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 8, 2019 18:34:30 GMT
Her expression was enough to make Soren roll his eyes; oh right, like he’d want to lie about something like that. To try to draw more ire from the humans he already had so many issues with.
Soren looked back over as she mentioned a pompous figure, his lip curling at the memory, knowing exactly who she was referring to without having to remember what had happened. “Hagen,” he nearly spat, shifting a little uncomfortably as he continued. “The worst hunter you’d ever find, but a devoted servant of Odin who seems to think I want to release Fenrir to spark Ragnarok. As if I have nothing better to do,” he added with scorn, again showing a disinterest, even a dislike, of the Gods he was related to. “So I’m not surprised if he was crowing about killing me. He’s crowed many times already, until I survive his trap or whatever he’s set against me.”
His gaze suddenly went to her, as pointed as her own questions were to him. Eyes narrowed, he finally asked the question that had been bothering him since he recalled being injured, given that he had little memory of it.
“So how did I survive him this time?”
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 8, 2019 19:09:21 GMT
The name didn’t ring a bell, but she thought she had a pretty good idea of the man’s character already. He seemed like the sort that wore his heart on his sleeve, judging by the unbridled way he had shouted his mockery towards them from the shore. Loud-spoken, full of conviction and judging from what the green-eyed stranger had said, a head full of rocks. Whilst the stranger claimed Hagen wasn’t a good hunter, he’d still managed to land an arrow in the man’s chest, so he was also not one to be underestimated, even if this was due to his luck rather than his skill.
“How do people normally survive getting shot?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm of the remark, irritated by his questions, when the answers seemed so obvious to her. Or was it because he was finding it hard to believe that she was the one who had helped him? That perhaps was understandable, judging how she had been the one to give him that purple bruise on his jaw. “I grabbed you from the water. Then I removed the arrow and bound your wound, although you might want to redo that now you’re awake.” She nodded towards the satchel between them, which was leaning against the side of the boat next to his feet. “There’s bandages in there, and some food if you’re hungry.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 8, 2019 19:38:10 GMT
Her sarcasm didn’t help his mood in the slightest, a lip half curling at her in curbed response. But as she described what she did, his expression became unreadable, with only his eyes providing the steady, dark stare.
“You… saved my life. You,” he finally stated, quietly, not quite disbelieving her words, given the circumstances. But his words also showed just how unexpected her help was, despite the fact that she was the only one who could have. There was an unspoken question of ‘why’ in his eyes, particularly given that she had socked him in the jaw… and that he had provoked her into it.
Even before she had explained what had happened, he had of course guessed, but didn’t want to believe it. What made him uncomfortable in the situation was that he owed her. Even if she didn’t view it that way, he owed her his life… and owing a human that much was the last thing he wanted.
Soren glanced down at the mentioned bag, the tension rolling over him in waves as she continued to offer help. He didn’t even know how long it had been since she had hauled him out of the water, how long she had been working alone and injured to help save him.
It was enough to make him grit his teeth, unable to respond to her offer of food, in spite of feeling his stomach burn at the suggestion.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 8, 2019 20:28:20 GMT
His response only confirmed her assumption; he was surprised that she had been the one to help him, despite no evidence pointing to the contrary. She could understand his confusion all too well; it was the same confusion she felt as she mulled over their situation. When he had fallen she had moved instinctively, with no time to think as she plunged her arm into the water after him. With no other explanation that she could find, she was inclined to think that for some reason Freyja had deigned that they should journey together, for at least a short time. Once they got to land, she was sure, they would go their separate ways.
“So.” She began, noting that he made no move to reach for the satchel. She straightened up slightly, regarding him levelly. “Spawn of Fenrir, devil wolf… descendent of Fenrir. It seems you have many names, but what should I call you?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 8, 2019 20:42:37 GMT
Soren only looked back up at the woman as she began listing off the names he knew all too well from Hagen’s own lips, visibly twitching at every one. His sour expression settled into distaste, only responding because… ugh, he didn’t even want to think about it.
“You can start by not calling me something-of-Fenrir,” he growled to start, but reluctantly went on. “It’s Soren.”
Then, even more reluctantly, several moments later, “… and you?”
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 9, 2019 20:54:08 GMT
She noted every twitch of his in response to the titles she had borrowed from this 'Hagen', each equally irritating him. She nodded as he gave her his name, then a moment later he asked hers. She little reason to be secretive now, with him being as pursued as much as she was. As he had said yesterday, they were in the same boat. "Brynja." She responded as he had, with no offer of a last name. As he hadn't moved towards the satchel, she wedged the oars so that they locked, and stood up, reaching for it herself. Sitting back down where she had been before, she grabbed out a roll of bandages, "Here." She chucked them over to him, and then pulled out a bread roll. Mentioning the food had reminded her of her own hunger, now vying for attention once it had been brought to the forefront of her mind.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 10, 2019 2:04:29 GMT
Brynja? Hah! That was quite a name! It was… it…
Damn, that wasn’t a name he could convert into an insult. Not even one to silently curse her with.
He stiffened a little as she stood, forcing himself to settle as she sat back with the satchel she had mentioned before. Soren managed to catch the bandages despite his injury, still watching her with a wary gaze. Ironic, given he was the one who had growled earlier. His eyes lingered on the bread, however, gritting his teeth as he tried to ignore the burn in his stomach. Finally, he looked back towards his injury that she had bound, and the bandages in his hand.
Even as he looked at the roll she had tossed him, he didn’t make a move to change the bandage on him already. Why became clear later. He remained silent for most of the rest of the day, frequently lost in thought, but when he did go to change the bandage across his chest, it was clear he wasn’t used to bandages in the first place, unrolling it and awkwardly attempting to tie it. Strange, considering that, with his tunic and shirt removed to have better access to the injury, his body was covered in a myriad of faded scars, most only visible upon close inspection. How could someone had lived that sort of life, but be so easily confused in how to use bandages, was questionable.
---
It had taken very little time for him to recover from his injury, curled up like a wounded animal to his usual, tense, misanthropic self within just three days. And with bad bandaging to boot.
This was a double-edged sword for him, for as soon as he was moving about, he was quickly drafted into helping with the boat, proving quickly how little he understood about sailing. The only thing he was any good at was rowing, which in turn proved to be unfortunate for Brynja, as this left his mouth free to bitterly complain about the rowing.
At least by the fifth day, the complaints stemmed from Soren having already said everything he could think of about it.
It was the seventh day that they finally made landfall, having run out of most of the supplies that Brynja had gotten back in Kattegat. Of course, the food hadn’t been intended for two. Soren knew that and managed to keep himself from indulging his hunger and devouring everything within a day. This meant he barely ate, perhaps mistakenly adding color to his claim of a God’s bloodline. The only problem was that it added to his bad mood, taking to glaring out at the water when he wasn’t actively rowing. As they dragged the boat far enough onto the shore, Soren’s mind was already actively considering what to hunt - a deer might be enough to feed them for a night, considering how hungry he felt.
Of course, he was too hungry to think this through. His usual way of hunting something as big as deer was very… distinctive.
What he hadn’t considered at all during the ride was to finish shoring the boat, walk up onto the shoreline, and suddenly see Brynja's back as she began walking away from him. Perhaps he should have, as he had made no comment about owing her his life. Or that he intended to travel with her until the distasteful task was accomplished.
“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?!”
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 10, 2019 19:29:46 GMT
Even with Soren being relatively quiet for the last day or so at sea, the air between them had grown almost static with tension, like the string on a bow being pulled too tight. There always seemed to be a sharp comment coming her way, or a critique in regards to rowing or general sailing, despite the fact that he clearly had very little knowledge on the latter. She gave as good as she received, in no mood for his mockery, which meant they were constantly figuratively butting heads, and on more than one occasion, almost physically doing so as her patience wore thin. Either he took pleasure in seeing her annoyed, or he was in a foul mood because of his injury. Although upon thinking on it, she was inclined to believe it was a fatal dose of both.
It didn't escape her notice that his injury had seemed to heal rather quickly, judging by the ease in which he rowed after just three days of recovery. She assumed this was something to do with him being a magic-user, even if she did not see him perform anything she could recognise as a spell. It had crossed her mind to ask him to help her own healing along, but she didn't trust the stranger, and certainly not enough to encourage him to weave magic around her. Besides, she was loathe to ask the man for anything.
In their time on the boat she didn't sleep well. For the first night she didn't sleep at all, much too wary in the presence of the stranger to let her guard down. On the second night she dared to allow herself to rest a little, but it was sitting up, with her weapons close at reach, and she awoke regularly. Each time her gaze flitted over to him, he was always in the same position, either asleep and paying her no mind, or awake and... again, paying her no mind. In the days that followed, she did eventually catch some sleep, not because she trusted him, but rather because her body demanded it.
She’d never been so happy to see land.
Although exhausted and looking forward to having a restful night without the stranger, she hid her fatigue well. With the last of her strength, they pulled the boat up onto the shoreline, and as soon as it was done, Brynja made to leave. There was no need for goodbyes’, after all, and she was privately pleased that their short time spent together was at an end. As he called after her, she paused, and uttered a low sigh as she turned to regard him stonily. She answered his question with one of her own.
“Was there something else you needed?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 10, 2019 20:00:51 GMT
To anyone looking at them from the outside, it probably looked obvious what Soren wanted; he didn’t have any bags, after all, given that Brynja was the only one to go onto the boat with any provisions at all. But her question made his brow furrow in irritation, taking a steadying breath before speaking, obviously not happy with what he was himself saying.
“Yes, actually. I… owe you. For saving my life. So until that is paid… you’re not going anywhere without me.”
Soren looked just as happy at the prospect as he was certain Brynja would be.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 10, 2019 20:11:26 GMT
Soren’s words visibly took Brynja aback, surprise lighting up on her face. Why would he offer to stay with her longer? With their clashing personalities, she was certain she had irritated him as much as he had her. Not to mention the fact that it was clear in his voice that he was reluctant to offer his help, so why mention some perceived debt at all? She regained her composure as she answered, attempting to strike off his offer for good, and make her stance clear. “You owe me nothing. It was my choice to help you, don’t think of yourself as indebted to me.” She turned to leave again, assuming that would be the end of it.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 10, 2019 20:20:57 GMT
Her surprise didn’t soften Soren’s mood, if anything it simply solidified his frustration with the situation. “I AM indebted to you,” he growled, taking long strides to block the path she was trying to take. “And I’m not letting you just walk out of here and leave me with that debt, so I’m coming with you until I’ve saved you in turn.” How he expected to do so was unclear, unless he referred to his magical capabilities only; she’d already proven she was physically stronger than he on the ship, and he had yet to try and challenge that fact, surprisingly.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 10, 2019 21:07:42 GMT
Surprise melted seamlessly into anger as Brynja found Soren bodily blocking her path, forcing her to stop abruptly. She seethed silently as he spoke, then instead of backing away, she stepped in close, locking their gazes. He was a little taller than her, but it didn’t lessen the ferocity that radiated from her in that moment, her words thick with warning. Clearly, she was at the end of her tether where Soren was concerned.
“I don’t want or need your help.” It was her turn to growl, certainly less feral than the snarl he had uttered moments before, but no less forceful.
“Get out of my way.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 10, 2019 22:39:05 GMT
To his credit, Soren didn’t back down as Brynja moved in close, seething at his persistence. His eyes were narrowed at her, almost expecting another punch to replace the bruise that had also healed remarkably fast along his jaw.
As she growled, however, his eyebrows raised, almost but not quite in amusement at the attempt. Finally putting his hands on his hips, he watched her steadily, almost as if waiting for her to settle down enough to be reasonable.
“It doesn’t matter if you want or need my help. I will pay back what I owe.”
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 11, 2019 0:16:43 GMT
Brynja held his gaze for a few more breathless moments, and then perhaps surprisingly… her shoulders sagged in defeat. It was obvious there was no changing his mind, and as she hadn’t succeeded in scaring him away, she didn’t have the energy nor inclination to keep pushing the issue. “Agh!” She merely exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation, and taking a step back. The sudden increase in distance helped to break up the tension, the air around them settling considerably. “Fine, do whatever you please.” Was she going to regret this? Probably. Was he? Most certainly. Just because he had forced his company on her didn’t mean she had to be welcoming.
She turned away from him, scanning the landscape and trying to ignore the smirk of victory that was sure to slip onto his face. From here, they could see rolling hills, although they were white rather than lush green, but she could just also about glimpse the fringe of a forest on the horizon. There were no settlements in sight.
“We’ll head for the forest, we need shelter. Then we’ll need to setup some rabbit snares for food.” She spoke, intending to prepare for the present first, - they could go hunting for civilization later. She began to walk, begrudgingly accepting Soren’s presence.
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