borgdan

⠀⠀⠀   &.      now, i gotta find his theme again, smh. FAWK.

⠀⠀ ⠀&.         like, what dafuq. 

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀﹒ ✶ ⎯⎯           @orfays. 
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ (i. ⠀⠀)  ⠀
             ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀  ‘have a seat. the preparations have been made. before we begin our selection, is there anything i can get you two?’ 
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ “ale, maybe.”      sverrir commented under his breath, his attention still fixed upon miri.       “let me have a moment. i will let you know once we’re ready.”   he added, guiding miri toward the longer stretch of the aisle, where the bustle of the shop faded into a quieter corner.
            
            ⠀⠀    ⠀ “pick your favourites. gowns or gold. whatever you please.”      his voice softened, though his expression remained guarded. he glanced toward the rows of fabric and jewellery arranged for their choosing, then back at her. he knew gifts could not mend what he had already done, but it was all he had the courage to offer her in that moment.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀﹒ ✶ ⎯⎯           @orfays. 
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ (i. ⠀⠀)  ⠀
             ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ DREAD,  TWAS  A  FUME  OF  AGONY.  ONE,  THAT  COULD  NOT  BE  IGNORED.         he knew from the moment he’d stepped forth through the portal that a day as this would come tumbling upon his doorstep, and as much of a stranger as he’d been to o’hackney, sverrir had grown to accept its people, along with the olden town, which was not altogether different to him.           though, he was a king of his past, and knew the ways of many trades, what coursed through his blood could not be stopped, not even if they came in the form of tears.         akin to a melody, miri’s voice filled the hush of the market. blazing sun burned overhead, leaving a sizzle of warmth against his skin, sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. he looked to his right, edging a step back, and caught her wrist, pulling her along with him.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀     “don’t make a scene, miri. we will talk about this later.”      later would never come, he knew that much, but the pain in her voice drove a searing nail into his palms. he led miri through the narrow lane, greeting familiar faces as they passed. at last, he brought her to the front of the shop. a bell chimed as the door, left open by another customer, began to swing shut. sverrir caught it before it closed, ushering her inside before stepping after her. would this make him cruel? or perhaps, selfish? the scent of old parchment lingered thickly in the air, mixed with tobacco and the faint dust of the shop.
            
                  ⠀⠀⠀       ⠀ ‘mr. sires! what a lovely pleasure to have you back.’     the shopkeeper called, waving him over. a kinder smile lingered upon her lips, the corners of her eyes creasing with familiar recognition. sverrir could tell by the second glance she gave miri that she understood more than she let on, and she gestured toward the others before turning her attention back to them.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀﹒ ✶ ⎯⎯           @orfays. 
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ (i. ⠀⠀)  ⠀
             ⠀⠀⠀  “Us?”      HE  PULLED  THE  REINS,    SKIDDING THE  HORSE  TO  A  SLOW  STOP.    it neighed, stamping at the ground, ears flicking toward the commotion ahead. she was irritated beyond measure. sverrir patted her neck, running his palm along the warm coat to settle her, while his gaze lowered to the nape of miri’s neck.      he swallowed, tearing his gaze ahead. a loud commotion sounded from the house, what appeared to be tabby chasing rowan while an elder shouted after the two of them. that alone gave away enough; there were others, and before the boys could return from their racing, the house was going to be filled with more guests.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ “what do you mean us?”   his heart thumped. it never skittered like this. he didn’t want to connect dots that weren’t there, nor elope into a hope that reality had made impossible for him to /believe/ in. carefully, sverrir dismounted, boots sinking into the soft earth. his hand caught miri’s ankle above the boot, keeping her still before she could climb down.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ “Answer me.”

   ⠀ID:  ⟮ @lebirds ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            *she waits only long enough to make certain the boy follows before leading him toward the old path winding back through the forest. the castle is visible beyond the trees, its highest towers catching the last of the daylight. milena keeps herself between the boy and sverrir as they walk, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make certain the weapon has remained lowered. once they reach the outer courtyard, she guides the boy through the gates and toward the servants’ quarters, where he can find warmth, food, and someone willing to look after him.*
            
            stay here until i return.     *she gives him a reassuring touch upon the shoulder before turning back toward the forest. her expression changes almost immediately, patience thinning as she walks toward sverrir again.*      now.     *she folds her arms across her chest.*      where were we?   ah, yes. the firebird. and my demand that you behave yourself.

   ⠀ID:  ⟮ @lebirds ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            ah, yes. me again.    *milena rolls her eyes at him for a moment before giving him a small, almost mocking bow.*      do you really think he will still be a boy?    *she rubs her face and swallows a sigh, walking toward him. she knows she cannot touch his sword, and even if the weapon rejects her, she has no intention of allowing him to harm himself by turning it upon innocent mortals. or immortals, for that matter. her gaze flicks toward the boy who has already begun retreating through the trees, frightened enough to stumble over the exposed roots.*      give it here.     *milena taps her foot impatiently, extending one hand toward the weapon.*      azhara, has come back with excellent news. however, before i say anything, i want you to be on good behaviour.
            
            *without waiting for an answer, she glances toward the boy again and sees him hesitate at the edge of the clearing. milena turns away from sverrir and hurries after him, gathering the hem of her dress as she crosses the moss and tangled roots. when she reaches him, she lowers herself slightly, keeping her voice gentle so as not to frighten him further.*      come along. you’re not in trouble.     *she gestures for him to follow before looking back toward sverrir.*      and you. no sword. no threatening. no frightening children while i’m gone.

⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀━━━  ꓄ʰᵉ     sword vibrated with a deafening pulse of light. no more than a step, beneath the moss lived tree roots; spurt with a fascinating verbose of life. it had become alive at her voice, at once becoming so sodden with greenery, sverrir had to release the boy.          he turned back, and foots scattered; drawing his gaze. he watched the boy slip away.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀ “YOU.”         he pointed.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀@BELOVAS. 

⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀━━━  ꓄ʰᵉ    fire burned. repulsion sift as sorrow sat with brittle edges upon his shoulders. anchors as if, borrowed naught of mirage, but of old icy sieges; cleaved against his skin. at once, he waved her away. he settled into the silence of the room, listening to the endless wind moving through the night, and the rustling of tree branches outside.               though; when he looked at his hands, they trembled. wielding the great sword of his grandfather had been easy now, or so he seemed to think; but what remained of the slaughter, and voices of decay; came to haunt him at this hour.             sverrir burned with rage and endless sorrow. despite the years of burial and forgotten names, there was this one ache he could not seem to forgive nor bury where it ought to have been.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀  ⠀⠀ “leave me be. at once.”         he called out to her. and began cleaning himself by removing his thick coat. the linen of his shirt underneath was clean, though half, and he pulled that over his head, wiping away the excess liquid. until it dried by the warmth of the fire, stinging left behind a vast remnant of ugly lines.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀      ⠀⠀@aelfang.