words peel off of the man like nails through rotting carcases ; while seemingly easy there’s a strange sense of wrongness to them , even though she can’t quite place it. but that sense of wrongness could simply be the man before her ; ivar , was — a dangerous creature , and one she knew better than to speak with unless spoken to. ice-grey eyes focus on the kife between his figures , a small slip of her lips and she’d be finding out out how deep the small knife can cut. the sameness , that came with speaking to one who thought and acted oh so similarly to herself on the outside , was bizzare. she wondered if , this was what it was like for others to confornt her , the danger she felt at the simple notion that trying to read ivar was like trying to read a black solid wall. she wonder’s what she’s done form him to confide such , strange words in her direction. but wonder was not something that would keep her head on her shoulders if the wrong word was spoken. « superiority , what a god-like quality. i have yet to meet a man who is in all ways superior to any other. » she pauses, lips pursing for a moment. « but , then again , you ivar , are not like most men, so it seems mankind finally has it’s contendor for it’s place amongst the gods. »
TO BE A KING. TO BE LIKE A GOD. TO BE A GOD. He’s been playing with all these notions for his purposes, ( revenge for the murder of his mother, ) for his ambitions, ( to be far more famous than his own father, ) . . . and he likes none. Ivar still prefers to honor Floki’s guidance and to live by the gods. HE’S GODLY. ❝ Well, maybe not superior in all ways. I’m a cripple——— How could I be superior to any capable warrior, no matter where they are from, in questions of combat on the battlefield ? ❞ He cackles. Eyes lit with mischief as he arches both of his eyebrows. It’s both the truth & a lie. Maybe they both know he is not entirely helpless either though. Underestimation more often than not leads to hesitation. That’s when Ivar strikes. He lashes out. Enraged, loud and driven by blood. He chuckles quietly as he shrugs with one of his shoulders, unbothered by his own claim. He no more play with the knife between his fingers, instead he continues to carve a small statue he’s been working on all along. ❝ Is that what you said truly what you believe ? Or is that something you think I’d like to hear. ❞
