#elserasnow

[morethanjustwords-archive]

@elserasnow

“It just comes naturally, I guess.”

In the next breath, a few low, guttural words were uttered, and her warriors lowered their weapons, shuffling off to wait until their next orders. What she told the man was not quite the truth, but revealing the extent of the grove’s influence would be risky with someone she did not entirely trust. Better to avoid the subject.

A sudden overwhelming dizziness then, fogging up her head and leaving her legs weak. She leaned up against a nearby tree, trying to quiet her pained moaning. The familiar sensation of hot, sticky blood trickled from her nose, a few drops hitting the once clean snow at her feet.

“Shit…” Her muttering was faint, as if all the breath had been stolen from her. “Not this again…”

This was a bit of a vague explanation for something that supernatural for Harys’s taste. It was in no way his place to judge or question — he got lucky when they didn’t just kill a stranger met this side of the wall. Of course, Gared was the one mostly to thank for this. It was his initiative to let Harys & Diona stay by the fire, & then — get to know them better. Not giving his friends ( or whatever the lad considered those people to be ) trouble seemed like the right thing to do now — even though enough things about those creatures served to disturb him.

A worrisomely pained sound interrupted his thoughts.

The woman who’s been introducing him to the dead warriors was leaning against a tree to stand. Before he knew it, Diona took a tentative step forward, sniffing the scarlet drops on snow. He couldn’t blame the pup — t’was only natural for an animal to be interested in this kind of thing, but Harys still tsked at her, urging the dog to step back. 

“THAT doesn’t look natural to me.” He stated, taking a hesitant step in the other’s direction. “Do you need any help?”

[txghut-blog]

@elserasnow  summons

Cold was the North. 

Fingers ran through his beard, tugging ever gently, the pulling of skin reminded him that he was not a frozen man. Breathing, warmth, blood still coursed through his body. Ichor of the Forrester’s, still alive in greater numbers than he originally imagined. Almost humors, a chuckle pulled from his throat with a puff of white air. He’d always known his father wasn’t perfect, though it brought pain-- a stab into the heart. Looking to his sister, bastard or not, she was one of the few sisters that he had left. He was determined to hold on with teeth and nail.

There were pieces of Mira in her or was it there were pieces of her in Mira? Asher tilted his head, eyebrows knitted together to betray his deeper thought, how he discussed with himself and decided to push the question away for the sleeping hours. Played it off with a bop of his chin towards the body of a deer they’d taken down, all lean muscle that wouldn’t do much for them but was better than nothing. Asher took a knee.

“I’m glad you told me we’re siblings,” he began, grabbing for the knife just behind his hatchet. It wasn’t his knife, either, offered to him by his childhood friend, and even then he was told it was another man’s trophy. “I was seconds away from flirting. Frankly, I don’t want to be known as the Lord that flirted with his siblings.” Let alone be known as a Lord, but the comment was kept under the tongue. Slicing the deer, the slight shiver along his arms as he removed entrails. It would be left for the wolves, and he would finish skinning in the safety of their camp.