wolf's teeth are near.
Too long had he sat idle in the Peak. He had taken those months to hone his warrior skills, built strength and stamina climbing rocky face of the monolith itself. Yet, he grew weary of the Peak women, their constant chatter crawled beneath his onyx skin. It sent the wolf inside seething and growling as their voices echoed against the sheer cliffs and craggy peaks. Freedom suits the icy onyx warrior, it breathes its life into his lungs.
The early summer sun shines brightly on this particular day only the occasional cloud drifts across its face. Ivar slinks in the shadows of the birch and cottonwood, his dark eyes shift from horse to horse. He growls inwardly as they talk with a giddy excitement, their laughter echoes against the trees at his back. "All of them are pathetic with their fake laughter, we know why they are really here," he growls to Fenrir.
Yes, indeed. They both knew. It is pathetic, their giggling and flirting in hopes to be asked to join a herd. Just another number, a face in a herd. "They are disgusting," Fenrir the wolf growls, his voice only heard by Ivar, just a whisper in the dark recesses of the warrior's mind. Ivar nods with a wicked grin on his whiskered lips, he could not agree more.
A movement catches his dark gaze, a woman of pale gold, makes her entrance. She stands proudly, beckoning anyone to step forth, and Ivar is not disappointed. A onyx woman steps forth, her words are audible on the breeze, and Ivar sneers as the onyx woman speaks. A queen practically begging at the golden woman's hooves. Disgusting. Fenrir sneers.
The dark warrior slinks from the shadows, his strides are those of pride and confidence. He is úlfur kappi, a wolf warrior. As he nears the women, his dark gaze focuses on the gilded woman. "You deserve more than to just be anúmer í hjörð," his words a thick with a northerner's accent, gruff and gravelly to the ears. He turns his attention to Vaslissa, a wicked grin plays at his whiskered lips. "A queen does not beg, það er ógeðslegt," he growls as he looks at the Queen of the Thicket.
He comes from a land where the woman are shield maidens, strong, cunning, and beautiful. They calculate. These woman of the Isles have yet to met that expectation.
ooc: please excuse Ivar, he is a poop and has been cooped up in the Peak for too long :D
Translation:
númer í hjörð,: number in a herd
it is disgusting: það er ógeðslegt
Ivar Speech
the voice of Fenrir
Icelandic - Smoky Black - Stallion - 14.3 hh úlfur kappi of the lagoon
brother to Björn & Lagertha
