by the moon,

aarik ragnarsson. twenty-seven. heir & shieldmaster.

[ofaarik-blog]

sylvi--of-the-sky‌:

As the bitter cold descended upon Hedeby, welcoming winter’s frost revealed new sides of the village’s inhabitants. As it did every year. Mead warmed them from their insides, radiated from rosy cheeks against the roaring of the fires deep within their wooden hall. Men and women adorned beast’s furs, roaming in the silence of a whitewashed terrain while farm animals moved indoors, or froze. The humans turned more unpredictable in such a climate, Sylvi liked to take advantage of the fact, see how her friends and foes behaved when provoked.  

Warmed from the thick heat of the great hall’s merriment, Sylvi stretched her pixie frame and wrapped her thick fur coat around her, embracing it, taking tentative steps out to crunch the frosted earth beneath her feet. She pursed her bow’s lips, seeing her breathing crystallise, appreciating the silence of the world, the busy tasks in her mind halting even for an instant. Ears perked, however, the moment she saw a figure in the darkness, further down in a snow bank. 

“You there!” She snapped, squinting, “Either the children have done wonders to create an ice beast, or you must believe your mortal skin can never freeze.” She teased, brows bouncing merrily. “Why suffer the bitter cold out here alone?”

     Aarik was rather drunk. It wasn’t often that he drank more than he could carry--as the rest of his brethren did--but tonight he was, admittedly, a little loose with the bottle. His skin didn’t feel the cold, harsh winds, with nary a fur over his shoulders. He could excuse this immunity to his strong genes, to his breeding--but, really, he was blasted out of his mind.

     He looked up at the familiar voice, eyes peering into the white darkness, “If I must not be alone, you shall join me!” He insisted, still merry, despite his drunken wandering. He struggled up, boots stomping through clumps of snow, but stumbling and falling before he reached her.

     “Sylvi!” He laughed, spreading his arms out. He was helpless, “Join me!”

[ofaarik-blog]

haraldsdottir‌:

The hem of her dress was gently kissing the ground as Kara walked through the forest, stirring up leaves and announcing her presence everywhere she went. Not that it mattered. This was her safe place, she had no reason to hide, no reason to skulk. At least not as long as everything was at peace. Her destination, however, was something different. She loved people, she really did, but being surrounded by so many strangers – and hedeby was full of them, merchants from everywhere – made her feel uneasy. “Aarik!” A smile appeared on her lips as she quickly made her way over to her friend whom she spotted just before the great hall. “Word is you came by an injury during training. Or was ist during crafting?” She held up a wrapped cloth which she brought with her. “If that is the case, I have something for you.” 

     “Aye,” Arm pathetically wrapped up in a makeshift sling, Aarik turned to his closest confidant, who had ears like an oak and hair like the moon. Both earthly and nether-worldly, he smiled, turning to get a full view of her, “Afraid I did. I thought he was down and out of it. Thought wrong. Word spread quickly, huh?”

     Aarik wrapped his good hand over the cloth, and weighed it in his hand, not yet pulling it back to reveal what lay inside. All healers were different--Kara was no exception. How was he to know what lay inside this seemingly innocent gift? He extended it back to her, “No lizards, aye? Open it up for me, Kara. I’m not much use.” 

[ofaarik-blog]

endrisms‌:

the forest floor was covered with leaves —– it crunched beneath his feet and would alert endre raebec if there were any persons nearby. he was beginning his prayers that morning, asking for the god’s watch as he ventured off for his duties that day. it was a ritual and often provided him with good omens; endre lived for these words between him and the gods. the disturbance from behind him caused the man to rise to his feet, brows frowning before the question left his lips. “what are you doing here? have you come to talk to the gods as well?”

     “I would--but I fear they can’t stand to listen to me anymore,” Aarik let out a well-meaning chuckle, stepping forward through the crunch of leaves and twigs. He was positive the gods had enough of his pleading and crying for one lifetime. Best he spare them for a while before he sent out another signal of distress.

     “I hope I do not disturb you, Endre. I came to see the sun rise. My brother tells me he saw wolves in the clouds just the other morn. I believe he thinks me a fool.”

[ofaarik-blog]

( SAM HEUGHAN, HE/HIM )  behold! there’s ( AARIK RAGNARSSON ), the ( YOUNGEST HEIR OF HEDEBY ). he is ( TWENTY-SEVEN ) and known as ( BENEVOLENT ) but also ( OVERLY EMOTIONAL ). hedeby is the land of wealth and opportunity, will you stand with hedeby, or are you against it?

For as long as anyone can remember, Aarik has been as gentle as a lamb. The night he was born was quiet and warm, a lilting breeze singing through the bush and welcoming in Ragnar’s second and final son, a bright baby boy, who didn’t so much as thrash about, let alone weep. 

Much of Aarik’s reputation puts him in a negative light as a ‘baby’ and a ‘coward’ and ‘too weak’ [though this isn’t necessarily true]. He’s a fierce fighter on the battlefield, always the first to lend a helping hand, but his heart usually gets the better of him, and paints the picture of him being sort of a pussy [but he is NOT].

When he was twenty-five, he met an older woman, named Alfhild. She was fifteen years his senior, and they engaged in an affair that was met with much disapproval. Aarik fell head-over-heels in love with Alfhild, but it was clear to just about everyone but Aarik that she didn’t hold the same passion.

When she left him [which was inevitable], Aarik was an emotional wreck. He sobbed and begged for her to stay, making a rather large scene in front of his people, but to no avail. Two years later, he’s still getting over his heart being shattered to pieces, and the scrutiny of people who now see him as an emotional weakling, not fit to stand in and lead anyone, let alone Hedeby or it’s people. 

Talented and dexterous on the battlefield, Aarik also enjoys carving and crafting. He’s a tinkerer, always finding something to work on or make. He enjoys woodworking the most.

[laird-brochtuarach]