❛ don’t mind me. just enjoying the view. ❜ - kass
The vibrant blue and red of the Ravensthorpe advisor’s tunic and furs laid neatly folded on a nearby rock. River waters sparkled in the hot midday sun to compliment the glisten of Randvi’s sun-kissed skin. The sinew of her muscle, unimpeded by the layers she normally bore, rippled as she fastidiously scrubbed away the days filth.
It was a common misconception about the Norse and their hygiene—they were very picky about it, often focusing on their appearances and cleanliness. The Saxons, in contrast, smelled like dog shit.
In Randvi’s humble opinion.
The voice behind her did not startle her. Instead, she took the opportunity to wring out her hair, free from its braid, and flicked it over her shoulder. Then she turned and cocked her hip to the side.
“And what view is that?” Randvi asked brazenly. She raised an eyebrow at Kassandra.









