~ where innocences burn in flames.
ᛯ ᛯ ᛯ ᛯ
He stands poised on the sandy shore, the ocean curls herself at his hooves with a hiss and a bubbling kiss. He can feel his soul tugged toward a distant island - a land of ice and snow, of blustering winds and savage mountains. A land that will ever be apart of his blood and soul. He swivels his thick crown back towards the jungle, towards where he had left Xiomara and her herd. He had mentioned his intentions early this morning, just as the world was washed anew in brilliant pinks and crimson hues.
With a final sigh, he pushes into the bubbling surf - the turquoise ocean welcomes him into her bosom. With each steps he understands that he is taking another step towards what the Norns have always destined for him, towards what beckons his soul.
-
The waters grow chillier, but he does not shrink back - no, he eagerly pushes forth. His heart hammers against his ribs as finally Tinuvel begins to take shape from deep within her veil of fog. She whispers to him. Verið velkomin fallinn konungur. A whisper destined for only his flickering ears, it weaves itself around his ears beneath his thick veil of tangled mane. The voice grows still as he steps from the frigid ocean. The surf hisses and curls itself around his feathered legs as he steps onto the shore of jagged rocks. He does not stumble nor falter. The land and him - are akin.
He pauses on the shore, just as a frigid wind gusts down from the craggy mountain peaks. It pushes its chilly fingers into his thin coat, it beckons a shiver from him - but he clinches his teeth together. "I am Björn, Bera Konung. AND I will not yield," he growls to the frigid winds. He lifts his thick skull to the overcast sky and lets a bugle fill the crisp fall air. He half expects the Fjord king to make his appearance... but if there rumors were true, there is another who has dethroned the Bay King.
fallen king