#varsen

[eldrylva]

The drums of war sound... but I am a wife before I am a Shield-Maiden. My place is at his side while his battlefield is the recovery bed.

[adamarmeadowcroft]

There was still an hour before the ass crack of dawn would be upon them as Adamar creeped down the halls of the Manor. He took careful steps to conceal his movements as he stalked through the living quarters. And to his luck... they had not locked their door either. Course they didnt... doubt they even HAD locks in the Northern lands. He slowly cracked the door open and waited for a moment until he was greeted with the duo chorus of snoring. Perfect.

He stepped inside the room, a grin growing ever bigger upon his lips as he appraoched the bedside...his shadow growing larger over their sleeping forms. “Revenege.... is mine.” He whisperd as he raised his weapon high over his head and readied to strike. 

He dumped the large bucket of Ice Water over the sleeping bodies of Astrid and Varsen... poor bastard was just a casualty, but it had to be done. “GOOD MORNING!” He bellowed as the water erupted over them.

[eldrylva]

CAW!!

Astrid jerked sharply with a yelp, her arms flailing and reaching for the dagger under her pillow. A sharp grunt sounded in her ear after with a groan, though both Northmen had flown up at the naked waist with the redhead’s outburst.

The top right portion of her skull throbbed and Varsen’s jaw did in kind, the Knight reaching up and rubbing at a sleep-tangled beard with a soft rumble.

“What is it, Kván?” He had pushed a bleary squint down to his wife who was still wild in her startle. The concerned frown in his brows softened as a hand reached over to brush his fingers over the white knuckles of her right hand, digits intent on curling between hers and the weapon to pry her fingers free and to gently transfer it into his palm to stuff beneath his pillow instead in a moment.

The Shieldmaiden had watched the exchange through the eyes of a spectator, brows knitting carefully as she tried to figure out if that was Varsen’s hand or someone else’s. At the gentle nudge with a bare hip beneath the covers her eyes fluttered in a short series of blinks.

“The ravens..” she rasped finally, reaching up with her left hand to rub the heel of her palm against the respective eye.

“What of this time?” A burly arm was already winding around her middle, tugging her gently down by the waist to settle back down with him so he could pull the furs over her shoulders.

“They offer no wisdom or clarity.. merely noise.” She half-growled as she rolled against her right hip to drop halfway against her Knight’s chest. Astrid’s left arm curled up protectively, fingers curling over the muscle of his right shoulder. She felt his lips against her ear as his left hand began a slow, comforting walk up and down her back to ease the tension the harsh awakening had caused, and already she felt a grin tugging at her lips before the words had left his.

“Then we can tell them to fuck off so we may rest.” Was punctuated with a playful nip to the shell of her ear and she laughed, a soft sound that still shook her shoulders and a sound he’d never tire of hearing.

@ataleofvalor

[eldrylva]

[eldrylva]

“And Varsen... you know how stubborn she is.. keep her home...”

Her bed was lacking one more body. But Astrid, you’re in your bed!

She had a job to do, and now she was stuck on Azeroth. Astrid had insisted she was fine, she was able to return to Oribos by sunrise and yet her Finder Hand and Shard were collected from her body and she was confined to the medical ward until the Sunshield nurses said she could stick her big toe off of the bed. It had been four days since she returned to the land of the living, and it was four long days of pacing and playing pirates and princesses with the children, but it was four days she could have been helping and searching.

When Lady Sunshield had left with her brotherhood, she almost lost her shit. Almost. Almost. But she knew she didn’t have a say, she could argue until the sun rose but her mouth would get her walking in circles and her wrists slapped, surely. So here she was, counting the seconds in a thick fur-shrouded bed with the hearth roaring to her left. On Azeroth. Her body ached for action, to move, to be doing something but nothing came. Stranded, she was, her duty now to rest and recover.

The Shieldmaiden could spout how angry she was that she was sitting idle all day, but she was nothing close to herself in the lands of the dead, surrounded by pointed reminders of her death and what came after. She could spout all day about how she was fine, she was over it, her mind was fine... but it wasn’t. As the Godspeaker said... her mind would never recover. It would scab and scar, but it was a scar that wouldn’t go away even with time. Each day she remained in Oribos or around creatures she shouldn’t be seeing was another second of her mind fraying and her nerves shot and spent. In truth, she barely remembered the fight with the Venthyr in the courtyard, hardly felt the bite of steel in her hand as she pulled the rapier plunged in her stomach out. It was a black blur, and all she could taste was the blood on her tongue and the sound of steel in flesh.

It was a weight off of her chest, laying where she was. The crackling of fire at her side, the warmth of her husband next to her... except he wasn’t. The Northwoman rolled to her left hip, facing the right side of her bed towards the hearth where Varsen would usually be. Her right arm stretched out, a quiet jingling in her palm. Fingers brushed his pillow as metal rolled in her palm. Her thumb tucked in toward her palm for a moment before brushing back outward.

Two steel bands re-shaped and crafted into knotwork saw azure Umbryl gems interspersed evenly around them were hooked loosely onto her thumb. The steel and gems glittered in playful angles against the firelight and they almost didn’t seem real... almost too much for her, but Au’fer in Oribos had insisted she was in good hands and he didn’t disappoint; especially when he made these from what she’d tried to create on her own. It was hard to wear jewelry in armor, especially plate or leather gauntlets, but another addition to the wooden coin around his neck wouldn’t hurt she guessed.

Astrid could grump for the rest of her life and she likely would, but it had been weeks since she properly rested and it caught up quickly with the redhead. The house staff thought she snuck off in the night when she didn’t rise with the birds for breakfast, only to find her in bed till afternoon.

So, in perfect fashion, the redhead sprawled atop furs instead of within them fell fast asleep staring at the bands around her thumb, instead of swearing at the Gods and everything else. The fire was warm on her skin and scents around her helped ease her into another long night of rest.

@ataleofvalor

[eldrylva]

Have you seen the Godspeaker recently?

No.

That was a trip she’d neglected before her return to the South. Often she heard the ravens crow for her ears only, sometimes in her dreams or even during the day. The shadowed beating of wings in the canopies of the trees in the corner of the of her eye.

Like now, as she sits in her bed waiting for her Knight to return from supper. She didn’t have much of an appetite, which was... abhorrently strange for the Northwoman. It was often commented upon how herself, Torben, and Varsen could eat the household out of house and home, but such was not the case this evening. How long had it been since she’d rolled the bones for herself, and not had someone do it for her? Long enough. Now.

Astrid sat in her soft leather trousers and the band usually secured about her chest, the furs positioned in a small circle she’d drawn with the tip of her finger. Her pouch of runes sat next to it, and her mouth rested against her right palm, elbow propped on her knee in her slouch. The caw that came from the corner of the room was legendary, loud and startling enough to sent her jolting out of her skin! The Shieldmaiden blinked and her gaze snapped to where the noise came from, but there was no Raven. Instead, the silence filled with the soft crackling of wood from her hearth.

She returned to her slouch with a soft sigh breathed past her nose, and her free hand reached for the pouch of runes at her side. Soft storm greys grew focused, another breath taken as her hand slipped inside the small leather pouch. She felt three roll into her palm and out those came, hand clenched in a loose fist until her wrist flicked sharply and the runes were rolled. She had a myriad of questions to ask, mind not settled really on one thing but the runes knew what the heart really wants, so she prayed the Gods listened to her. Freya.

Raido. Inguz. Nauthiz.

Journey. Beginning. Desire, but also patience.

Her head gave a subtle tilt to the right as she stared at the runes. None merkstave, this message was clear. Positive. Her chest tightened, eyes burned with tears. It was an answer, one she was pleased with, but one that also terrified her. She huffed a soft breath past her nose, lips quirking into a little smile. It took her a long moment of simply staring and reading before she realized a traitor tear had rolled down her cheek. Knowing this, perhaps she should still visit the Godspeaker, or he may even come to her if the ravens were any indication. Time would tell, and he may have more answers than the stones.

“Astrid?”

Her gaze snapped up immediately, wide and doe-eyed as she settled upon Varsen, who had gently shouldered his way inside of their room. She sniffled, rubbing the heel of her palm beneath her eye and she gave a little smile, a hand swiping up the runes laid before her and set them back in her pouch. Worry writ across the Northman’s features as the door closed behind him, watching his Shieldmaiden carefully. All she could do is smile, the runes set on the bedside table and a hand outstretched towards him, a silent gesture to come closer. Varsen obliged, settling on the edge of their bed and taking the hand offered, turning her smaller one within his palm and settling those piercing blues onto the She-Wolf’s face.

Astrid tugged him forward, throwing her arms around his neck, his immediately winding around her middle. She simply held him, burying her face in the side of his neck and slowly lost herself in his warmth. The scent of pack, kin, clan, home. She felt his chin rest on her shoulder after a kiss had been pressed to the crown of her head, a calloused thumb pressing into her spine gently.

“Will you tell me what is on your mind now?” He queried softly, tone still gentle and concerned while his hand gave a slow, comforting crawl up her back. She’d been silent, easily agitated the past few days. It was strange, for she usually was quick and sharp in wit and tongue and was unabashed about doing so. A spitfire, true to name. Astrid took a slow breath, exhaling quietly against his neck and she just smiled, arms tightening around his torso.

“Tomorrow. It is another day, my love, I have my answers for this one.” She said softly, and he gave a soft grunt in response.

“Tomorrow then, Little Wolf.” Came with an unmistakable smile in his tone and a gentle squeeze of his arms around her.

@ataleofvalor

[eldrylva]

I asked the Gods for a sign, and here you are.

[ataleofvalor]

The water has stilled, no breeze and little else but a thick fog that had coated everything.

A strange smell fills the air.. like someone has struck ten thousand matches and then blew them out.

The sudden lack of the ship rocking with the movement of the waves was felt first. Perhaps they had just lost the wind for a time? It happened. With little else to do but lay idly in his hammock, Varsen rose and meandered his way above decks. Arriving to discover the ship surrounded in a thick coat of fog blocking sight of anything.. Not that there was much but water to see from horizon to horizon.

It was the sudden scent filling his nostrils that caused alarm in the normally stoic warrior. Something burned.. The Knight turned and leapt down the stairs back where his arms and armour lay. Sea monsters? Pirates? It didn’t matter what the threat was. He’d kill it. Venturing back up to the deck in his usual attire. Armed to the teeth and ready for a fight as his gaze scanned the blanket of fog for a sign of danger.