Regal, but tired. Viđarr is so tired… he’s tired of being on his own out here. It didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter these days. A dark thought here or there crossed his mind, and a knot had formed in his chest a week or so ago. It was something that he had tried to squelch. He tried to press it down, hold it back. Viđarr is not familiar with it, but knows what it is-- failure. There is failure that lives in his head. A knot in his chest. Viđarr wouldn’t let it cloud his judgement, but that was more on sheer force of will alone.
At least he’s strong. Still, he’s a protector by nature. A guardian. Viđarr has nothing to guard, no home and no family. No one to rest beside, no one to make smile-- it hurt. Everything about it hurt. He’s so immensely and incredibly raw. The elegant black stallion is wrapped up in his own thoughts.
And those thoughts take over his mind. There are so many of them swirling, making him hurt and ache. Making sure that he hurt, because he deserved it. The gods wouldn’t curse him with pain like this if he didn’t deserve it, right? He had upset them. He had angered them. Yes, the ache between his ribs was a curse on its own. Lost in thought, Viđarr moves through the falls. Beneath his hooves, a stick cracks. Snaps. It shatters the silence around him, and the stillness in the air. Viđarr comes back down to earth.
A hesitant voice reached Viđarr. “Vad?” The word tumbles past his lips before he can stop it. What had she said? It certainly wasn’t his name. A silvery mare came into view as Viđarr stepped forward, and his head cants to the side. “Are you okay?” His accent plays thickly with the words. She looked… upset? Distressed maybe? His brow furrows, honey golden eyes shining with a certain softness. Maybe… maybe this was someone that needed him. The stallion maintained a polite distance, but he longs to cross to her shoulder and offer support. No, that was rude.
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Translations:
Vad? - what?
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