── * ◞ . ofxdynxsties ╱ alistair .
The fire raging behind the Prince’s eyes was evident, and Alistair was most certainly not immune to the waves of pure heat obviously radiating from the other man. Despite appearances, the Crown Prince was neither stupid nor foolish, and in fact remained entirely aware both of precisely what he was doing, and the risk involved within it. Though he did not lack in height, Alistair would never have been described as a man with any substance to his muscular structure. Though he partook in exercises which would keep him alert and healthy, heavy lifting and the like had never proven to provide any use or enjoyment. Still, his eyes remained locked onto Ulf’s, his expression outwardly present, yet with a cloaked determination and near-plain stubbornness providing the unspoken force behind his small smile. Alistair did not waver, and he did not back down.
The Prince’s snarl came, and for an incredibly brief moment, Alistair found himself questioning whether or not he truly should have gotten himself involved. His presence in the middle of situations which might otherwise not have concerned him was fairly common, much to the chagrin of his mother, and much to his own puzzlement. Still, despite all the other apparent truths about himself, Alistair was at peace with his innate desire to assist others. It was a quality he’d heard might easily make him a weak and unsteady ruler. It was also a quality he’d heard would prove to be his greatest asset. Before the Crown Prince was able to further process his second-guessings, the Nordic Prince seemed to back off just a bit, his demeanor not changing dramatically and yet offering acknowledgment of Alistair’s question. Smiling, he turned, motioning to a nearby pitcher. “Just there, for starters. However, if you’d grant me the grace of your time, Your Highness, I’m certain we can suss out a wider selection.”
snarl becomes overexaggerated sneer as ulf shifts to eye the jug with disdain . syrupy contents yet left a thick aftertaste coating throat & tongue alike ( is accustomed to a corrosive tango BLAZING a path down gullet , not a minute tickling in the back of his throat ) that lacked a distinct fire spreading and warming his gut . had partaken of it earlier , when upon entering the hall a bumbling servant with shaky hands had offered him a glass , and ulf had subsequently spat it back out much to said servant’s chagrin and his own amusement . ❛❛ a wider selection . . . ❜❜ repetition is a slow drawl as icy hues burn a frigid path around the still buzzing room before an idea sparks in his mind .
its with an abrupt grunt & slight inclination of his head ( a wordless behest to follow ) that he turns on one foot . strides are long & purposeful , with little regard given to his would - be tagalong , as though he has a clue where he’s headed ( he doesn’t ) but ulf steadfastly leads the way ‘til the noise from the banquet hall recedes from a cacophonous roar to a droning murmur to blessed silence in an isolated corridor where he rounds on the other . ❛❛ ulf . ❜❜ he snaps , ❛❛ my name is ulf and unlike your people i’m not so simple as to be appeased by pretty words and meaningless titles . i don’t care who you think you are but let me make one thing very clear : ❜❜ at this he steps forward , intent on backing the prince against a very literal corner and when he speaks the chill in a tone low and glacial as his eyes nearly raises goosebumps on the back of his own neck , ❛❛ cross my path again and you won’t live to regret it . ❜❜
