may you find wisdom from odin

for @Ragnar; sorry if this is a poopy post. i slept in longer than i meant to and wanted to get this up before work. <3

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it is in the space between that asriel lingers; following the familiar footpath from cloudrest down to where it meets and melds with the tundra. the glacial and snowy fjords speak to him in a way that he cannot place; though this is an unsurprising trend at this point for him. there are a lot of strange puzzle pieces upon his awakening that he cannot place ...that do not fit in with his mother and her people nor the rugged tundrian who sired him. seasalt kissed paws touch the snow; cold and hard beneath his paw pads and asriel's pace quickens. though this no man's land territory is not apart of cloudrest's claim, he still patrols it all the same. keeping a keen eye on the herds that move through it and linger despite that he has no actual interest in pursuing a trade as a hunter. though noble, and necessary ...his heart beats to the tempo of a war drum and it is that call that asriel seeks to answer as he keeps a purposeful if not leisurely pace along the snow covered ground, a keen eye on the fresh hoof marks in the ground, looking for any of wolves intercepting them.

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Perfectly fine! And sorry I took a week to get my shit together for this. XD

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Two days had come and pass since his daughter's corpse went buried within the black rocks of their shores. Two days since Saints come welcomed into their range, to tend their left bounded other child. Their mother remained in high alert, always ready for war and hungry for blood. Ragnar cast out, to atone with the weight of it all and what would be their making or their ending.

Alas out before him, a figure begins to form and as the space comes between them, he notices a child of Cloudrest. The children of Riannon come home, the ally which would not fight at their side when aid was called for. Ragnar snorts, icy eyes hard on the winter prince. “Tread carefully boy,” Ragnar grumbles as he takes a few lazy paces nearer. “With winter in the north comes war and your mother prays you stay clear of it.”

A pretty little snow and ice youth, half even the age of his own brood. Not even a single hair out of place. It was no wonder his mother kept them hidden away so closely.
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