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Post by Kelathi on Apr 24, 2019 21:42:46 GMT
If she had thought she might find out more about the stranger, it seemed she was severely mistaken. His answer was cryptic at best, downright unhelpful at worst, and it was evident that he had no wish to elaborate further, especially not without prodding. Giving him a resigned look, she deigned not to question further, perhaps much to Soren’s relief, as she leant back and settled herself more comfortably against the wall. She could try again, but judging by his reluctance to speak so far, she guessed it would be much like trying to get blood from a stone. If he wanted silence, then so be it, there would be no complaint from her.
Directing her gaze back outside, she watched the eddying snow for a few minutes before her gaze dropped to the fire. The silence between them was filled with the howling of the wind outside, and with the absence of words passing between them, she found her mind straying. At first, she thought about the most recent events that had passed, from her arduous trek through the storm, to meeting Soren and their strained exchange, to sailing away on the boat and ending up here. Then, when her mind had exhausted exploration of every detail of those few events, it began to stray further back, to an unwelcome territory she did not yet wish to tread, especially with a stranger sitting just yards away. These were private thoughts that might provoke her to break her composure, and she did not want her emotions to betray her, preferring to appear stoic above all else. So she pushed such thoughts away, refusing to think on them for now. It was easier to do so without the heavy furs about her shoulders constantly plaguing her with the scent of him, and soon, she found her eyes becoming lidded.
Despite her tiredness, she did not actually fall asleep until the fire had begun to wane. As sleep had taken hold, she had sunk to the floor, lying with her uninjured side resting on the hard ground. By this point, no longer warmed by the flames, she looked worryingly pale in the gloom. Her slumber was heavy, so much so that she did not even wake from the cold, and she seemed abnormally still, as if too exhausted even to shiver. Yet, it was clear that her body temperature had dropped, her breath coming out in clouds with every slight rise and fall of her chest.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 25, 2019 1:25:24 GMT
Soren was perfectly ‘happy’ as Brynja took his response as evidence of how much he wanted to talk. The silence let both ponder their own thoughts, Brynja’s a mystery known only to her as she gazed out at the snow.
His own thoughts kept circling back to the boat, to her saving him from both arrow and sea. In turn, this would make him wonder what sort of human did what she did - helping not only a stranger, but one who had actively worked to anger her - and he would irritably snap his attention back to something else. Anything else. And slowly, like the ebbing tide that helped their ship sail down the coastline… it would slowly circle back. Her helping him went against everything he’d learned about humans, from his earliest memories of running from their hunting parties, hiding amongst the wolf packs that accepted him. He wanted nothing to do with humans because of that past, but he was still drawn into their world, only ever fully in control when in the form of those he hated most.
By the time he’d noticed the fire beginning to wane, the woman was already lying down. He tossed a few more sticks on the fire, but there was little more he could do than that. With the last piece beginning to blacken in the shrinking blaze, Soren glanced at the woman, still acutely aware of her injury, permeating her clothes and even the cloak he half wore, having slid partway down his shoulders as he had eaten. As he took in a cold breath of air, he looked out into the still falling snow, illuminated by even the smallest sliver of moonlight, then leaned over the woman, the back of his hand to her exposed cheek.
The soft snarl escaped him long before he thought to stop it, his lip curling at the cold touch. He moved up to his knees, pulling the heavy furs away from his warm back and laying them across her, prodding here and there to tuck them around her securely. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine as the cold air hit his warm back, settling back in against the cave wall to retain what warmth he could. Wrapping his own cloak around him tightly, he looked out into the swirling snow, letting it lull him to sleep as much as it had the woman. In contrast to his earlier distance, however, he had settled in beside her, almost protectively, were it not for the scowl on his face.
It didn’t last long. Before too long, the fire had burned into embers, and Soren had slid down the wall in his sleep. His arms were still defensively folded in front of him, pinning the cloak in place. By dawn, he’d slid even further, now pressed up against Brynja’s own sleeping form, arms still folded, but his chin tucked over her shoulder, an instinctive position for piling with one’s pack mates, sleeping deeply within the safety of their little cave.
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Post by Kelathi on May 8, 2019 23:02:18 GMT
Upon waking, Brynja would be convinced that she had been blessed with a dreamless sleep. In truth, she had indeed dreamt, but the ever-present ache in heart had been temporarily eased somewhat in the throes of sleep, and so what little dreams she did have were mere snippets of pleasant memories, their vagueness enough to provoke only emotions of affection rather than loss at what they represented. The recollection of the familiar feeling of her husband’s arms around her, and the accompanying scent of him only evoked comfort rather than heartache, and in this she indulged happily until some other half-formed memory chased it away to replace it with another. At one point in the night, she had stirred, and found herself caught in a strange, tranquil state somewhere between sleeping and awakening. In that moment the sound of the wind, softened as it was by slumber, had sounded like a coaxing whisper that seemed to echo her name.
Such a restful sleep carried her through well into morning. Unbeknownst to herself, Soren’s physical presence had contributed greatly towards her successful rest, as sleeping close to another had been a familiar experience to her until only recently with the untimely loss of her husband. Whilst she had not be consciously aware of his close proximity, the feeling of Soren pressed up against her back had enabled her resting form to trick itself into thinking that nothing had changed, that the events of the past few days since losing her husband had not occurred at all. In her slumber, she had turned over, unknowingly facing Soren, proximity so close that she would surely be alarmed should she be aware of it. For now, though, she was pleasantly and blissfully ignorant of the lack of distance between them. Although, with dawn fast approaching, perhaps not for long.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 9, 2019 2:58:03 GMT
Soren was blissfully unaware of how close he had gotten to the woman, his dreams of moonlit nights and calm memories of hunting when not mere shadows that carried him easily through the long hours. The most he stirred after settling beside Brynja was when she had turned over, a soft, disgruntled groan escaping him as he shifted to accommodate, still instinctively pack piling.
At least, that would be his rationale when confronted with how he ended up.
His top arm had unclasped from his chest and was wrapped about the woman’s ribs, tucking his head a little under her chin. The combined warmth, from their sleeping forms and the heavy furs that slid to half cover Soren as well, made a welcoming bedroom even against the hard, cool rock that formed the cave. So welcoming that as dawn finally crept over the horizon, the light glinting against the snow and brightening their shelter, Soren narrowed his still sleeping eyes with an annoyed grimace, his grip on the woman shifting and tightening as he avoided waking up. He also buried his face deeper into the darkness between them, the warmth and softness.
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Post by Kelathi on May 12, 2019 20:23:39 GMT
Despite the shared cocoon of warmth and the general comfort between the two, Brynja’s placid expression had altered, her brow furrowing slightly in discomfort. Turning as she had, she was now resting on her injured side, and so it wasn’t long for her to begin to wake. Her eyelids fluttered a few times, but then she instinctively closed them tightly, perhaps aware of the deepness of her sleep only moment’s before and willing herself to return to it. She shuffled a little in an attempt to ease the pressure on her side, and it was the restriction of her movement that finally caused her to open her eyes properly to discover what it was that was stopping her. At first, she stared ahead blearily, trying to make sense of the world, and for one wild, strange moment she had forgotten about the events that had led up to this moment, and thought that she was in bed with her husband. A glimpse of the stone walls and a glance down was enough for her to pale as she realized that this was not the case at all.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she instantly clicked as to whom the black hair belonged to, and then the emotions flitted quickly across her face as she stiffened. First surprise, then anger, and then a curious mixture of the two before her expression settled into a look of uncertainty. Surprise, for finding herself and the stranger snuggled cosily together. Anger, because for a second she actually suspected that Soren had deigned it acceptable to crawl in besides her whilst she had been unawares, but then uncertainty, because it seemed much more likely that it was the cold that had drawn them together like this, and maybe she shouldn’t react with anger. The latter seemed much more likely, so it was for this reason that she didn’t just kick the man away, which had been her instinctual intention. Still, however they had ended up like this, she was hardly comfortable with having him this close, especially given that at first, she had thought for one heart-breaking second that it had been her husband’s arms that she was wrapped in.
She tried to slip away carefully from his grasp, thinking it perhaps better if she could get away before he awoke and save any embarrassment as he realized what he had done. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that things were not going to be that easy... and next she felt the sharp dart of embarrassment as Soren, in his sleep, tightened his arms around her, burying his face closer into the warmth of the crook of her neck. “By Thor’s hammer…” Brynja murmured, raising her eyes skyward as she pushed her hands against his chest, trying to create enough distance between them for her to slip away. Despite her relatively unimpressive stature, in battle she was strong, but this was because of the way she utilized her body, using momentum to her advantage to put force into her strikes. Lying like this, she was annoyed to find that she couldn’t easily break Soren’s grip, which was deceivingly strong, and curiously so even in sleep. “Soren!” She spoke more forcibly, realizing that there was nothing for it but to wake him, her cheeks colouring even as she allowed her embarrassment to slip seamlessly into annoyance.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 12, 2019 23:07:50 GMT
Soren’s willpower to stay asleep was considerable, as his face barely twitched as Brynja began pushing him away. Or attempting to, as a long, heavy and sleepy sigh finally escaping him, barely louder than a whisper, his grip staying firm by instinct rather than will.
Finally, the frustrated voice cut through his sleep, making him scrunch his face before finally opening his eyes, a soft rumble escaping him out of annoyance of being woken. What he saw was… confusing. And blurry. It almost looked like fabric… had he wrapped himself head to toe with his cloak then? That wouldn’t have been the first time…
Hearing his name again, he finally lifted his eyes towards… a chin? A face? Brynja’s face? Funny ang-
As soon as he realized the position he was in, his green eyes went wide enough to see the white all the way around. A heartbeat later, and he had half thrown himself into the cave wall, twisting to the side and darting out into the untouched snow, his own cheeks visibly reddening as he tried to regain some composure along with his apparent need for immediate distance. His gaze was dark, possibly darker than it had been yet, fuming at the way they had woken up.
Surprisingly, however, he said nothing to Brynja, instead cursing a number of gods under his breath, more upset with the situation rather than seeking to throw the blame for it.
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Post by Kelathi on May 14, 2019 22:35:44 GMT
If Brynja had been embarrassed, she could perhaps take comfort in the fact that it was nowhere near the level of embarrassment Soren was evidently feeling. After quite literally throwing himself into the snow in his effort to get away from her, his mad scramble to his feet was punctuated by a furious crimson flush to his cheeks. For someone who so tried to distance himself from others, his subconscious self certainly liked to be close. Brynja, in complete contrast to Soren, was calm and measured as she sat up. His reaction had done well to convince her that his snuggling up to her had not been intentional, and as it happens, his presence had helped her to sleep more soundly than she would have otherwise. Instead of commenting on Soren’s reaction or the way they had found themselves waking, she pushed herself up into a standing position, swinging the furs over her shoulders and into their rightful position, tying the drawstring at her neck and quite obviously focusing her gaze anywhere but at her companion. First things first, she needed to check the snares and see if they had caught any food. If not, they would need to rely on Soren’s exceptional fishing skills again. She intended to eat before they set off, who knew how far they would have to walk today?
“Will you gather wood for the fire?” Were the first, nonchalant words she spoke. As she finally turned her gaze to him, she was careful to keep her expression level.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 17, 2019 2:52:19 GMT
Soren didn’t immediately respond to Brynja’s request, finishing his work first of smoothing out his clothes and resetting his appearance, the grooming helping to control his response. By the time he had turned to face her, the blush was only barely noticeable anymore, easily mistaken as a response to the cold had it not been witnessed before.
Even though he had taken several moments to finish composing himself, he reacted as if it hadn’t been more than a heartbeat’s pause. “Why do we still need the fire?” he asked, not quite challenging, but well aware of a need to continue moving forward.
And well aware that his stomach was already beginning to heat from lack of food, having sated but not satisfied his hunger the night before. But he was hardly looking forward to sitting anywhere near the woman right then, nibbling at the minuscule tidbits of meat she’d get off of any rabbit she caught. If she even had caught any…
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Post by Kelathi on May 18, 2019 23:24:33 GMT
Although Brynja did not comment on Soren’s subsequent attempt to tidy himself up and hide his embarrassment, it was still duly noted. In response to his question, she responded, “We should eat before we start travelling again.” And that was all the explanation she offered before leaving the cave, not allowing room for argument and slipping seamlessly back into the role of unquestionable leader that she was clearly comfortable with adopting.
Outside, the weather had not improved much; the sun was bright but void of warmth and did nothing to melt the thick mass of snow that still cloaked the landscape. Trudging through the drifts, Brynja soon found the snares she sought. Although she wasn’t surprised to find them all empty, she was disappointed nevertheless. For a rabbit to be about in the storm last night would have been impressive and would have definitely exceeded expectations, but still, she was annoyed that once again they would have to rely on Soren to feed them. The Viking way was to be self-sufficient, so to find herself having to rely on this stranger was doing nothing for her pride.
Wrapping the unused snares loosely around one hand, she made her reluctant way back to the cave. Her side twinged a little as she walked, but she was pleased to find that the overall ache seemed to have subsided- courtesy of a good night’s rest.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 25, 2019 4:22:53 GMT
Soren’s expression was almost childish, except for the dark look that accompanied it. “We should get moving,” he growled in complaint even as she left, eyes narrowed at her back. Well, she certainly seemed accustomed to being obeyed… that only served to irritate him more that she had ended up saving his life. If only she’d somehow get into trouble so that he could return the favor and be free of her!
By the time she came back to the cave, it was surprising Soren was still there, but he had only gathered a few paltry sticks, almost mocking her request for firewood. Seeing the snares empty did little to improve his mood, but knowing that she had no reason now to keep them there did lift it a little.
Knowing that she’d been proven wrong also helped lift his spirits a little.
“If we’re done playing with rabbits,” he began disdainfully as she came within earshot, standing and brushing the snow off his clothing with an air of smugness, “Perhaps we can actually get moving to somewhere decent where we can find something decent to eat.” The amount of food he had had the night before was clearly not ‘decent’ in his eyes, but his insistence on staying on the move almost countered his personality. Clearly, he was unsettled at the idea of staying in one place longer than necessary, although he had almost completely covered it up with disdain.
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Post by Kelathi on May 29, 2019 14:31:26 GMT
It didn’t really matter that Soren hadn’t taken her order seriously in regards to the fire, because as it happens they would have nothing to cook on it. Even so, Brynja felt a flare of annoyance at his meagre effort. Her anger only increased twofold as the man began to complain, and she wondered again on why he insisted on sticking around in order to settle his perceived ‘debt’ to her, when he seemed to find so much displeasure in her company. She thought on a few choice words to say to him, but in the end held her tongue in terms of some of the more colourful phrases, settling instead on, “Where, exactly, do you suggest? If I’m not mistaken, you have about as much knowledge of this area as I do.” Her response was clipped and short, bothering to hide her annoyance as about as much as he had hidden his contempt for their ‘poor’ meal. She spoke as she went to retrieve her weapons, strapping the belt that held her sword sheathe about her waist, and tucking the hatchet into the belt. Lastly, her satchel, which she donned with the leather strap crosswise, from her right shoulder to her waist at her left.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 31, 2019 4:55:59 GMT
Soren sniffed disdainfully at Brynja’s clipped words, not bothering to hide the eye roll. “Oh, so the great Viking warrior admits a weakness, then?” he asked with a sneer, then shook his head to dismiss any response she might attempt. “I can locate any nearby town or other source of food,” he bragged, already having scented smoke in the distance that indicated humans.
True, it was far enough away that his path to it might not be straight as an arrow, but he knew he’d be able to find it.
His disdainful attitude was all that kept his composure as the woman gathered up her weapons, however, still eyeing her warily as she prepared to move. How a man could survive so long without any visible weapons, aside from the dagger on his belt, was questionable, particularly since he did little to ingratiate himself with those around him.
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Post by Kelathi on May 31, 2019 13:09:11 GMT
Brynja visibly bristled at Soren’s words, her gaze darkening at the insinuation, and fixating on the hated word, 'weak'. Spinning sharply on her heel, she approached the man quickly, anger punctuating her steady step, coming up threateningly close and pinning him with her gaze. The fact that he was taller than her didn’t lessen her ferocity. Brynja was a woman who was used to having to fight for respect, and had no qualms in initiating opportunities to prove herself. Any threats made by her were not empty and she was happy to back them up, which meant that her patience was often short, especially with challenges towards her strength of character... as illustrated now.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking me weak.” She snarled, tense. His brag was being ignored, for now.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 2, 2019 20:54:39 GMT
Soren, to his credit, managed to not move back as Brynja stormed up to him, but he visibly tensed, drawing himself up to a half inch more in height, as if expecting to be punched again. Even his gaze narrowed as she came up, meeting her gaze evenly. But his words did little to settle the situation.
“If you’re done being touchy, then maybe we can find a decent place to eat and sleep,” he growled back at her, utterly ignoring her threat. Then, before she could punch him, he pulled back and began walking, sniffing at the air to lead him towards the town. His pace was faster than usual, however, not ignoring the possibility of her running after him to deck him again.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 3, 2019 0:27:08 GMT
Soren’s response, although not exactly a subordinate one, did ease the tension somewhat. ‘Touchy’ was a word she could handle, ‘weak’ was not, and as he had not chosen to push on that same train of thought, Brynja had felt herself calm exponentially, certainly faster than she would have done otherwise. Back to being mildly annoyed, she moved to follow him, but not without adding her own quip. “For one who has so many enemies, it’s curious how eager you are to get back to civilisation.” She challenged, coldly. Curiously, she didn’t doubt his ability to find some kind of settlement with ease, or at least, she didn’t voice such.
Then, suddenly, the world disappeared from in front of her.
Trudging through the snow, five of them… something silver pinned to leather… armed to the teeth, the lot of them… a pack of dogs in the place of shadows, not to snap at their heels but to… chase the wolf that ran ahead, catching him in their jaws as they shake their heads to tear at his flesh…
She had only paused for a second, a glazed look coming over her eyes as she stared ahead sightlessly. But once the fog had cleared she responded immediately, marching forwards and grasping Soren by the shoulder, spinning him around before grabbing him by the scruff of his tunic. Without warning and using his surprise to her advantage, she had hauled him away a few paces, and as his heel caught the hidden root of a tree, they both went tumbling down into a snow-drift behind said tree. Brynja took this in her stride, landing pretty much on top of him, and planting her hand over his mouth to quieten the yelp of surprise or indignation. “Be quiet!” She hissed urgently, heart pounding in her ribcage so hard she thought it was going to fly out of her chest at any moment. Despite her demand, she knew he would not let up struggling until she offered up some kind of explanation, so she tried to explain as quickly and quietly as possible, aware that the men were almost upon them. “Five men, one with a silver pin on the front of his jacket… in the shape of a crow. They are looking for you, and if you don’t shut-up they will kill you.”
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