[VILE] HATRED SEEPED OUT OF HER TONGUE LIKE POISON. FOR A MORTAL, IT OUGHT TO HAVE MADE THEM FEEL A PRICKLE OF EMOTIONS. ⠀⠀⠀ ﹝ ︡… ﹞ ⠀⠀yet.. sverrir’s molten gold hues only seemed to narrow at the girl. she was short in height, reaching only up to his chest, and as though a doll-⎯he could easily pick her up, and toss her. not that he wanted it, it was a whimsical comparison to his strength, and her fragility. of course however, noting if her poison didn’t reach him first. ragnarök, she’d called him.. drawing a low sound of disapproval. he didn’t /appreciate/ the honorific use of his title. he moved to stand in front of her, reaching for the stallion regardless of her protest to keep his hands off, and away from the beast. it was his beast after all. idle twitch of his right pinky gave mirth to confusion settling deep in his dark, golden brown eyes.
⠀⠀⠀ sverrir secured the saddle, first brushing the horse’s flanks and mane with a coarse cloth to remove dust and loose hair, then laying a thick, tanned leather saddle blanket across its back. the wooden saddle, curved and fitted with simple iron stirrups, was slung over the blanket. he tightened the cinch beneath the horse’s belly, pulling it snug without pinching the skin, checking to ensure the girth would not slip during the ride. leather straps creaked softly as he adjusted the reins, running his fingers over the worn knots, testing the tension and making sure the bit rested comfortably in the stallion’s mouth. the horse shifted its weight, stamping once, and sverrir allowed a brief hand to its shoulder, murmuring low to steady its nerves.
