Utter trust is a deadly thing. Viđarr may know that better than anything-- trust had gotten him into the mess that drove him from his home. The thing that pushed him out with such force, he could never return. Trusting in his own brother, in his own family… he couldn’t do it. Things had changed for Viđarr and they likely would never return to normal. His very sense of self had been warped in the process.
A heart is a heavy burden. Viđarr wasn’t unfamiliar with that idea either. A heart, you see, would get him into trouble. The heartbreak brought on by friends, brought on by brothers, was not to be understated. It was not to be distanced from. They could break you worse than any lover ever would. If a heart that hurt was a heart that worked, then Viđarr was… well, his heart certainly did work. He was okay these days, but far from good. Surviving but not thriving. Honestly, for a winter alone, it could have been worse. Hell, Viđarr knew full well this winter could have killed him.
An unstoppable force. An immovable object. They had long been traveling their own paths, each treating the other as a feature of the landscape. If you travel for long enough in any given direction, you’re bound to intersect… as long as your lines weren’t parallel. Viđarr thinks of the red string of fate that wove the world together, the norns that his grandmother told tales of. She’d been the most wonderful storyteller, and those tales still rose and fall in his mind.
The dark mare appeared… was anxious the right word? Viđarr thought it may be close enough. He lowered his head cautiously, ears flickering forward. He would stand here as long as it took. It had been a spare few… weeks? Months? How long was it? That they’d been dancing their dance. A few more moments, a few more hours-- it wouldn’t matter. The black stallion would wait.
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