|
Post by Kelathi on Jul 21, 2019 19:24:38 GMT
Brynja simply rolled her eyes at his insult, this time. Clearly, this jibe didn’t quite hit her like his previous comments on cowardice or weakness, did. She altogether ignored his comment about Fenrir, again, in no mood to argue nor attempt to refute his claim when it wouldn’t get them anywhere. Whilst she didn’t mention what she had seen, she was still thinking about Hrókr, so she was glad of the distraction in helping prepare their food.
For the first time since she’d started her journey, she finally had a full stomach, feeling overly content as she leaned back against the tree again. Once more, she was taken aback by just how much food Soren was able to consume, his body evidently a bottomless pit despite his willowy frame. It was difficult not to let her eyes stray to him with the way he was shovelling it in, and he didn’t stop until only bones, fur and antlers were left. Upon finishing, with his contented sigh, he looked about as satisfied as she felt.
“I guess there’s no need for rabbit snares, tonight.” Brynja commented, with a good-natured smile, her full-stomach doing wonders for improving her mood.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 25, 2019 3:16:48 GMT
Oh, for Odin’s sake…!
Did she have to ruin the peaceful moment by talking? Again?
The irony of his silent irritation with her speaking in contrast to his own near incessant chatter was lost on him. But even this annoyance wasn’t enough to fully dampen his good mood, evident in how the level of irritation in his gaze was still at only perhaps half of what they were capable of.
Which was still significant, but it was also significantly less.
“There is never a need for rabbits,” he replied, one eyebrow raised at her with a seriousness that seemed quite ridiculous given the topic. But… if that was how he ate, perhaps it did make some sense that he would take his food so seriously. Didn’t make it any less funny to witness.
Stretching languidly, his fists opening and closing with the move, he slid down the tree he had been resting against, eyes growing even more lidded. And then, for perhaps the first time in a while, he simply fell asleep. No watching the woman out of the corner of his eye, no assessing and distrusting curl away from her. Sitting so close, and he had simply… fallen asleep.
An accidental sign of accidental trust.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Jul 28, 2019 19:10:08 GMT
Brynja just looked amused at Soren’s expression, wondering how he could possibly have the energy to be annoyed all the damn time, especially now he had a full stomach. His serious, deadpan reply in regards to rabbits only prolongued the smile, and as he settled down to relax, she did too. Although perhaps not to the full extent that Soren did, as he was soon out like a light, clearly needing the rest. She was surprised to find him slip into sleep so easily, especially considering his former distrust towards her. Had he finally seen sense, then, that she wished him no harm? Or was he just truly that exhausted? Either way, she welcomed the quiet, resting her head back against the bark and staring up at the sky, which was mostly blanketed in white, fluffy clouds that crept slowly across the atmosphere. Feeling at peace, she stayed awake as the lookout for both of them.
***
The way the weather had calmed was, unfortunately, temporary. Later that evening, the wind had begun to pick up again, which had continued through the night with lashings of sleet and rain, as well as the intermittent crash of thunder as forked lightning pierced across the sky. The two were fortunate enough to have found another cave, one that was deeper than the first and so offered a little more shelter from the adverse weather. This meant that they had managed to keep a decent fire burning throughout much of the night. Without it, and with only one fur coat to keep them both warm, Brynja was concerned about how they would cope once they moved on, especially if they could not find another decent place to take shelter. So for that reason, she’d firmly insisted they stay put until they rode out the worst of the storm.
It continued for four days without respite.
If she’d thought Soren’s complaining had been annoying before, it was nothing compared to this. It had gotten so bad, that despite her better judgement she was seriously considering setting up the snares anyhow, just for the miniscule chance that they might actually catch something to put just a second’s halt into his ceaseless grumblings. Although, with Soren’s distaste for rabbit she doubted that would be the case even if she did catch something, which meant she was back to square one- to sit back and try to resist the urge to bury her hatchet into the man's skull.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 2, 2019 1:13:18 GMT
It was bad enough to be stuck in a snowstorm, unable to go hunting, find real food, even to be unable to shift into a warmer coat than the one Brynja owned. But to be forced to stay with a human who he owed… that was the unbearable part.
He’d vocalized his misgivings more than once, but not enough to earn Brynja’s scorn. Finally, Soren had had enough of his rumbling stomach and grumbling companion and he braved the storm, following whatever scents he could track in the snow. He didn’t bother saying anything when he left, knowing he’d be able to track her down again and at that point fed up with her inability to take criticism.
What he didn’t know was that the scent he finally picked up on and followed would end up being an unfortunate discovery.
---
By the time he had found the herd of cows sheltering from the storm, his hunger overrode his desire to lay low and he grabbed the biggest animal he could find, scattering them all before grappling his chosen target. He even took several healthy bites out of it before carrying it over his shoulder, minimizing the bloody trail the animal would leave.
Even against the falling snow, his massive form was visible from a distance. Humanoid, but hulking, dark and shaggy, leaving massive paw prints in the snow that took long moments before disappearing again. The warmth from this fur coat inclined him to stay in this wolf form, reluctant to change even if was to keep Brynja from running from him on sight.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Aug 2, 2019 1:48:27 GMT
Brynja wasn’t sure how long Soren had been absent for. It was hard to tell the passage of time when the sky seemed perpetually grim, jealously shielding the sun from sight. He hadn’t muttered a word as he had stalked out into the storm, and to be perfectly honest, Brynja was fine with that. Irritable from the lack of food as much as her present company, she intended to make the most of her sudden solitude, leaning with her back against the wall and closing her eyes. She tried to relax, to unwind the tension from her shoulders. On the up side, a respite from travelling seemed to have done her steadily-healing wound some good, the laceration finally having some chance to start to knit together with this impromptu rest.
She was just beginning to doze off when she had been struck by the vision.
A bloodied maw. The trees had eyes, benign one moment but not the next. A glint of steel in the dark. An axe…
And her eyes shot open just in time to see the man appear at the mouth of the cave. His reflexes were fast, but hers were quicker. In the space of a breath she had leapt up, and as his axe was sailing towards her face, there was a sharp whistle of steel on steel as her hatchet came up to meet it, sending jarring vibrations down both of their wielding arms. She pushed forwards with her body, following the strike through and forcing him to drop back. Another swing from him, one which she dodged, and she was aware now that there were others here, except right now in the frenzy of his continued attacks she wasn’t sure exactly how many.
She heard another whistle of steel, saw the movement at the periphery of her vision, and she was throwing herself out of the way of a strike to her left, spinning round and swinging her hatchet, hard. She saw the blood and heard the scream but there was no time to think, as she had to duck away again, the weapon glancing harmlessly off the heavy furs on her shoulders. Three… no, five people she could count, and they had her trapped within the cave as they pressed steadily in. She sent a calculated kick towards the fire; showering the nearest man in cinders and setting his trousers alight, the brief distraction giving her time to counter the next swing that now came from her right. They were trying to circle around her, so she kept backing up, dodging and swiping out, but knowing that she would eventually reach a wall and she’d be trapped. Another swing, which she countered and followed up with a fist, the punch immediately bloodying the man’s nose and causing him to grunt in answer to the sudden explosion of pain. His sword came up quickly, and she only just managed to yank herself out of the way, turning her face at just the right moment, the blade singing against her flesh and leaving a shallow cut against her cheek. Then she felt the jagged rock dig into her back, and she knew there was nowhere now to go but through the men, and she ducked away again, just in time as a sword slammed against the rock instead, sending sparks into the air.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 2, 2019 2:12:13 GMT
A battle scene was the last thing Soren expected to find back at the cave, and yet that was precisely what drew him in so fast.
One of the things Soren disliked about being a wolf was how casual he would become with it, quickly losing fear of being spotted, simply and calmly taking the world in stride. This was his pace as he carried the cow along, his hunger tempered by the few bites he had already managed, and it was almost a luxurious pace through the snow, unhindered by the whipping wind or blowing ice.
He wasn’t sure when it began, precisely, only that he picked up the sound of metal on metal, a noise he recognized all too easily. Ears pricked forward, it didn’t take much to recognize the direction the sounds came from, and dropping the cow he launched towards the cave straight in front of him, leaping effortlessly across the snowy ground on all fours.
By the time he reached the mouth of the cave, his lip was curled into a silent snarl, recognizing the scent of Brynja’s blood even in the snowstorm. He’d smelled her injury long enough to recognize it. Just as he arrived at the entrance, a sword had slammed against the rock face, sending a shower of sparks at all those who stood within. It was then, the firelight illuminating Brynja and her injury, that the rumble cut loose.
As the men turned around, Soren stood up on his hind legs, the tallest of the lot not even making it up to his chest in height. The long ears were laid back, lip curled back to reveal gum and fangs. His growl echoed darkly in the cave, but even this didn’t match the fury in his eyes. Long, narrowed eyes of pure emerald green, no white, no pupil, made him look even less like a creature and more like a demon from Hel itself.
At least, for the few seconds it took for one of the men to try his luck against the beast.
The hatchet missed as the arm jerked out of range, but rather than pulling back the hand grabbed the man’s face, shoving it into the cave wall before letting the figure crumple to the floor. The claws of that paw struck out at another, who managed to only have the front of his robes sliced through rather than his chest, but a third had swung his sword down, leaving a long cut along the wolf’s arm. A bad move, as the already bloodied maw snapped at the man’s arm instead, catching it neatly and with one bone-shattering bite, disarmed the man almost literally. The man screamed even as he was tossed aside like a limp rag doll, another barked growl echoing in the space as the wolf pushed in.
By this point, the two men nearest Brynja had tried to escape, now penned in just as their quarry had been moments before. For all the carnage that the massive wolf-man was causing, it was mere seconds of time before he approached Brynja, knocking her hatchet aside before wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up as if she was but a feather.
Rather than taking a bite out of her, however, the wolf simply twisted, snapped at the two uninjured men, and as they cowered bolted into the night, his pace only slightly slowed by the fact that he was running on only three legs, still pinning the woman to his chest as he bounded away.
Soren wasn’t sure how long he ran, but it was already closing on twilight by the time he found another cave he felt was suitable for them, trotting inside before unceremoniously depositing the woman. He quickly appeared to ignore her as he returned to the cave entrance, sniffing at the air outside, listening for sounds of pursuit. In such a storm his tracks were likely to be well covered by now, but he remained wary, adrenaline prickling his veins.
And there was Brynja to contend with…
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Sept 17, 2019 23:33:40 GMT
It was difficult to get her mind round exactly what had happened, the events occurring in such quick succession. It had begun with the roar, a sound that had rippled not just through the air but also reverberated through the ground.
Chaos soon ensued.
After dispatching the first few men, the beast had towered over her, and she had been sure that she was dead. Even so, she did still try to wield the hatchet, a defence soon proving useless as the creature merely batted it away and grabbed her. But instead of immediately disembowelling her, it had held her close and lumbered off into the night. Wind and ice whipped about them in an eddying flurry, and after realising that her frantic struggling was having no effect in loosing the creature’s grip, Brynja could do nothing for the moment but hold on.
After what seemed an age, the creature had located a cave; it’s lope slowing to a casual trot as it entered. Without warning, it had dropped her, Brynja falling to the ground with an unceremonious “Oof.” Dazed and confused, she merely sat still for a few moments, her breath coming out in rushed, short busts, the adrenalin still sharp in her veins as she immediately began to plan her escape. The journey over here had done nothing to calm her, her heart still beating so wildly in her chest that it hurt. Why the creature had not eaten her straight away was not clear, but she was not about to wait around to see if she was being saved just to serve as an appetiser later.
For some reason, the creature seemed pre-occupied for now; turning it’s back to her as it loomed at the entrance of the cave, seemingly surveying their surroundings. Slowly, Brynja rose until she was standing, her body tense as she watched every movement of the beast. It didn’t seem to be aware of her, distracted as it was, at least for the moment. She took a tentative step towards the back of the cave. She could hardly hope to run past the beast, but she could hear a whistling, the howling wind finding an entrance in the rock, that suggested a possible exit at the back of the cave. It was worth a try.
Another step… no response. Another…
The creature’s ears perked.
Brynja turned tail and ran.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 19, 2019 3:31:46 GMT
Brynja’s nervous pacing kept one ear on her, limiting the wolf’s ability to track anyone or anything that might have followed them. So as her steps grew careful, his attention wandered until finally his ears perked at recognizing her sound was drawing further away. This seemed to be all she needed, as he could hear her running not a moment later.
One last sniff at the outside air, the wolf turned and watched her flee. For a moment, it seemed as if he was uninterested in recapturing her, merely watching her, but then he let out a short, slightly aggravated huff, and went after her.
No wonder that he watched her retreating form so casually, as his much larger frame easily caught up to her, and with little time to spare, as the cave began to narrow and would have kept him from being able to follow her too much further. Rather than swiping at her, bringing her down with his massive claws or teeth, he half scaled the wall in his rush and landed in front of her, slowly rising back up to his hind legs and full height, watching her with only a soft breath that showed he had been running at all. Then, he pushed in, one hand batting away her attempts to push him away before she was turning to run again.
Rather than pick her up bodily, however, his jaw snapped at the back of her neck, only snagging hair, fabric and fur before standing again, with an angry, kicking bundle dangling from his jaw. Brynja’s struggles and strikes didn’t seem to bother him too much, as he swiftly carried her back towards the main part of the cave they had initially settled in, once more depositing her unceremoniously on the rocky floor. This time, however, he settled in front of her, the other side facing the cave mouth, effectively cornering her now that he knew she was more than willing to run into the darkness of a cave to escape him. With one pointed look to the entrance and the hole she had tried to escape into, he snarled, lip curling enough to show gum and plenty of fang. Then, surprisingly enough, he settled in to lick at the cut on his arm, eyes half lazily closing as he relaxed. His ears still flicked towards any sound, but he was oddly at peace while playing guard dog.
Especially given how he’d likely react to the story once he’d ‘recovered.’
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Sept 30, 2019 22:22:44 GMT
Of course, she fought the creature, it wasn’t in her nature to back down and simply accept her fate. And yet, still, it didn’t kill her, not even out of annoyance if not hunger. As it grabbed her hair and clothes, teeth barely missing her skin, her mind went completely blank for a moment before she began her struggle in vain. Just as before, nothing came of her efforts, and the creature merely deposited her again, this time with a snarl that was clearly a warning. She stayed very still as the growl rippled through the air, his breath hot on her face and the force of it enough to blow her hair from her face. Then… it began to tend to its injured paw, which Brynja hadn’t realised until now, was bleeding.
In some strange, twisted way, she was more angry than fearful. Angry that she appeared to have been bested, but was being forced to wait for her fate for some torturous reason… and, of all things, angry with Soren. He had either managed to go far enough from the cave not to hear the commotion that had ensued, or he had heard it but had chosen not to intervene. So that was it? He would abandon her just like that, despite how she had helped him before? After everything she put up with? Even after insisting he come along until his debt was paid? Clearly, just empty words. She cursed him silently as she watched the beast, which appeared to be settling down, as if getting ready to sleep. Hope, yet again, flared in her chest. She would wait until the creature slipped off into slumber, and then she would try to escape, again, this time outside. It might be slowed somewhat by the trees, which seemed to press in close together, here.
So she sat and waited, cross-legged, pulling her cloak around herself to keep herself warm, her distrustful gaze fixed on the beast lest it make any sudden movements.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Oct 1, 2019 3:27:02 GMT
The wolf slept lightly, having finally cleaned his wound enough to let it heal. His head rested on crossed paws, ears flicking idly at any noise, with no sound to make the emerald eyes slide open just yet. His breathing was soft, rhythmic, and only threatening because of what he was. He hadn’t looked over at his captive very much after his warning snarl, but it had been with a relaxed expression, lazy even, as if questioning her lingering tension. With the snow storm blowing outside, the cave warm with his bulk filling much of the space, it was actually quite peaceful. And the wolf was happy to let things be until the morning.
It was a peace that was not to last, however, as some hours later the wolf’s ever watchful ear picked up sounds of the woman moving. Brynja had been still, perhaps waiting for him to fall asleep, but as a predator and a wild animal, of course he wouldn’t sleep too soundly. She seemed desperate to believe that he would in order for her to run. He let her go, tracking her audibly, and waiting until she was picking up her pace before letting one green eye crack open, judging when she had gotten too close to the cave entrance. She was creeping out, trying hard to contain her pace, but her beating heart betrayed her nerves. So the wolf let out a slow, even sigh, one he had a dozen times already, and stood to fetch her back.
Upon seeing him rise she immediately tried to run again, with as much success as the first time. Again he bit at the furs around her neck like a mother wolf might with an unruly cub, but this time he didn’t bother with rising to his hind legs. Rather than simply carry her over, she was partially dragged back into the safety of her corner, deposited but not left alone.
In striking contrast to the creature’s appearance, he began insistently nosing at her to push her into the corner before half lying on top of her legs, effectively pinning her. While he had snarled at her in warning before, he hadn’t even murmured during this latest capture. He almost seemed resigned, again reflecting the weary work of managing a hyperactive puppy. But his nosing seemed to provoke something else, as once he was settled, he studied her face intently, no malice, no anger, only frightening because of what he was. One paw rose to tap down her arms against her chest as she tried to wave off his nose once more, sniffing at her face intently…
Then, gently licked the cut across her cheek.
The first seemed almost experimental, the green eyes soft as he watched her for several long moments after, before resuming this unexpected care. Despite the fangs that were revealed with every lick, his tongue was velvet soft, the touch feather light. It was only when he seemed satisfied with her injury that he yawned, stretched out, and resettled himself even further against her, pinning her beneath his bulk. HIs fur was long, unexpectedly soft, particularly where the fur spread out from behind the large ears. But the angle that he twisted his head around, something else became visible on the wolf.
Across the back of his neck, half hidden amongst the fur, was a silver band. He was accepting of more detailed study, requiring the parting of fur on his neck. This revealed it was in fact a torc, with crescent moons capping the ends. Not at all dissimilar… but an impossible connection, surely.
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Oct 20, 2019 21:51:51 GMT
Once again, her bid for freedom had been very quickly thwarted, and this time she found herself being dragged backwards into the cave, her legs kicking out uselessly as she struggled against the creature’s grip. Dropping her again, the creature continued to push in rather than retreating, Brynja trying to brace her arms against the beast even as the creature successfully pinned her. To her credit, even when it was clear the action would get her nowhere, she still squirmed, trying to wriggle her way out, both her legs and her arms immobilised… but the feeling of the wolf licking her face shocked her into stillness.
Eyes wide, she stared into the wolf’s jade eyes, who regarded her back with an unnervingly, seemingly patient, intelligent look. When it moved to lick her again, she automatically turned her face away, the squirming resuming but, as before, proving fruitless. Was… was the creature trying to tend to her wound? After a while, exhausted by her efforts much like a rabbit caught in a snare, she stopped moving altogether. The wolf, either satisfied with her submission or content with its work, settled down, it’s body pressing against her slightly harder but not to the point of any real discomfort.
Lethargy as well as warmth now heavy in her limbs, Brynja, despite her precarious position, found herself facing a new obstacle- the growing urge to slip into slumber. Just as she was finally succumbing to it, was when she noticed the torc around the wolf’s neck, and so the last word that entered her head before losing consciousness was one of confusion at such a revelation.
Soren?!
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Oct 27, 2019 19:21:18 GMT
Morning came swiftly, given how deeply the two slept. Somehow, during the night the wolf had changed positions, and rather than merely pinning the woman’s legs he had half curled around her, impressive given his massive bulk in the small space he had selected. For this reason, as he awoke to a squirming bedmate, he merely yawned widely, bearing all fangs, before lazily and unceremoniously dumping Brynja on the ground as he simply lifted up from her, making his way to the cave entrance on all fours.
The deep sleep hadn’t distracted him from what he was doing, however, listening and scenting the air for signs of being tracked. With nothing to worry about, he yawned again, stretched front and back on all fours, then finally rose up onto his hind legs with a final long stretch. It was odd to see how easily he could change from one style of walking to the next, looking back at Brynja in the cave, almost with a look of impatience. It was fine out, the sun was shining, why was she still hiding?
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Nov 1, 2019 21:28:37 GMT
Strangely enough, despite the circumstances, Brynja found herself sleeping rather peacefully. Maybe it was down to the fact that she had exhausted herself through fighting a losing battle, the reassuring cocoon of warmth only emphasising her need to rest… or else it was the realisation that the wolf was not, in fact, going to hurt her. Perhaps it was both. Either way, when she awoke, she felt better rested than she had for days. Finding that she was still pinned, albeit less so than the evening before, she immediately began to move, trying to shuffle out from underneath the wolf. Thankfully the creature began to rouse too, and with a yawn, the great beast arose, and she was free.
She sat up immediately, but made no break to run, instead opting to watch the wolf closely. As it scented the wind, she eyed the torc about it’s neck, and as it turned a questioning gaze to her… she finally spoke.
“Soren?” her voice was hesitant, still not entirely convinced of her theory despite the signs. The green eyes, and now the torc… it would also explain why the wolf had yet to dispatch her.
|
|
|
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Nov 2, 2019 1:27:41 GMT
One word. That was all it had taken, and Brynja’s question was answered. The way the ears perked at the name, the gaze more solidly focusing on her… the name was his. Spawn of Fenrir. The wolf of Ragnarok. Descendent of Loki. A demigod.
The title didn’t seem so fake now.
What it did, however, was explain how he had come to be vilified so. Or it seemed to, upon initial glance. The wolf’s head shifted back to the outside air as Brynja simply stared at him, sniffing deeply before heading out, once more shifting to all fours and behaving… well, far better behaved than he was as a human.
He suddenly bounded forward, a playful tone to his loping gait that took him effortlessly down the hillside, then paused as he looked back at Brynja expectantly, half sitting in the snow, waiting for her to follow. Patience was a virtue Soren had yet to show, and yet of all things for this monstrous form to have…
|
|
|
Post by Kelathi on Dec 26, 2019 20:12:30 GMT
There was no mistaking the look of understanding in the wolf’s eyes- it seemed to recognise the name, respond to it. It was Soren, and yet... as the creature bounded out playfully into the snow, Brynja still found herself doubting such a notion. Now that she was watching the creature’s movements without the underlying wariness of the threat of being eaten, she was able now to see the easy gait in the creature’s step, the playfulness. Both seemed so unlike Soren. And yet, when it looked at her with those ivy green eyes...
After a few moments of contemplation, Brynja grabbed the axe that the wolf had struck from her the night before... and stood up, hooking it into the belt at her waist. Then she began to follow. The wolf was Soren. It was clear now, even if it defied everything she had come to believe about him, as well as what she had come to believe about life in general. As with any other Viking child, she had been raised on stories of the Gods, and she knew as much as any other that they sometimes roamed the Earth amongst humans. Even Odin himself had once donned the visage of a poor man so that he might walk unseen amongst mortals. But she had always thought of these stories as events that had occurred aeons ago. Shamans and Seers were one thing, but descendants of Gods? Not so easily believed. And yet, whom had ever heard of a man that could shift into a wolf? And what about that time the ropes from the masts had writhed like snakes, snapping from the sails as they made their escape?
Eyeing the wolf thoughtfully, she found herself wondering how long this form would last, as well as what control, if any, that Soren had over it. At least, now, she understood some things- why Soren seemed to push people away, and why he was hunted. A man turning into a wolf would invite fear, even if the animal itself had done nothing to earn such a reaction- just existing would be enough. Hadn’t her own immediate reaction been fear and defensiveness? What had occurred, what Soren could do, was fantastical, impossible. And yet it had happened nonetheless
So... he was a descendent of Fenrir, as he had claimed. Did that make him... a God? A Demi-god? Brynja was not certain, but despite the revelation she was surprised to find that she felt no differently towards him. He was still irritating, and rude, and stubborn as a mule and difficult as an ill-tempered pup... and the one whom had saved her, coincidentally. In her mind, the image of the weapon coming down towards her moments before it clashed against the stone, and the realisation that she was trapped all came flooding back. Then the image dissolved and she was met with the patient gaze of the wolf, the expression on his face causing Brynja’s lips to tweak into a smile. “Okay, i’m coming.” She commented, amused, as she began to follow him through the snow.
|
|