~ where innocences burn in flames.
ᛯ ᛯ ᛯ ᛯ
Just a moment before, the tension between the two stallions could easily of been sliced through with a knife. But now as the tension eases from the still air, Björn noticeably relaxes and tosses his onyx tail across white splashed sides. His glacial eyes settle on Solomon as agrees with him and allows the boy to visit the Ridge. And he instantly nods his crown as Solomon speaks his intentions of visiting the shores of Atlantis to see the land for himself. It is a different land than Tinuvel, where Tinuvel is harsh and unforgiving, Atlantis is brilliantly colored and temperate. He knows both well; for he was born in the harsh land and grew accustomed to the frigid temperatures and blistering winter winds that gnarl the trees and howl against the mountains rocky face.
It is an unforgiving land, much like the Norðurland. A land of frigid tundras and steeps fjords that plummet to the deep crushing waters at their feet. A land that you grow strong in or else you perish. His eyes settle on Sauron and remembers the moment that he had first lain eyes upon the earless boy. The fear that clenched at his chest and the doubts that clouded his mind. He knew that if they lived in the Norðurland the boy surely would of had his death sentence at his first breath. He would of been pushed into the cold in hopes that the wolves would devour his flesh and end his suffering. But now as he looks upon the boy, he is glad that he was not born there and that this land is more forgiving.
A smile tugs at his lips as Sauron offers to take the mare to the fresh waters that lap in the crystal clear pool within the quaint clearing. A kind boy. Björn refocuses his glacial eyes on Ravaini as she begins to speak, her words are shaky and full of uncertainty, and full of pain and regret.
We were leaving home together, but he- he didn’t make it.
His face grows somber. "My condolences Ravaini," he says in a low tone, his heart clenches in his chest at her loss. He knows loss, it stills his heart and takes his breath from his lungs. His mother. His father. Both of them gone but not forgotten. "You honor him with your memories," he muses aloud in an attempt to comfort her grieving soul.
She tries her best to pull herself together as she speaks to the boy. He knows it will gladden the boys heart to be able to show her the lands and that he would happily do so. Pride swells in his heart as he watches his son interact with her, and that one day he would make a fine man.
Björn - Icelandic mutt - 10 years old - Grullo Sabino
Bera Konung of the Ridge