Viđarr was no stranger to fleeing when there were wolves at his heels, when there were wolves at his door. No stranger to running into the night when there was a threat. There were other times, other lifetimes when he’d been the threat himself. Vengeance, you see, had always been his brand. Being the one to seek it, and having it set upon him in the most unrelenting force possible. It was a beacon. When lit, he’d stop at nothing.
But there was nothing here. Was there anything here for him at all? Had coming at all been a mistake? He refused to believe that. Viđarr simply hadn’t found his place yet, and that was okay. It wouldn’t shake him, it wouldn’t free him from the bizarre things in his head and in his heart. Still, he was okay. He would have to be okay. He’d finally made it somewhere safe. It wasn’t like he could return to the mainland, anyway, for reasons that he wanted to push from his own mind.
The greatest revenge is living at all.
For now, he would hold onto that. Viđarr is an elegant shadow, crossing the Meadow that had become his home. Somewhere far off, he thinks of the spotted woman that he’d seen last winter… where had she gone? Maybe she’d found a home-- he could hope. Still, it was hard for a caretaker to have no one, to have nothing to care for. He presence had been one she could count on, but as with everyone else in this place, she seemed to have drifted on as well. It was for the best.
From a ways off, he can see the painted mare huddled under a tree. By her posture, Viđarr could have guessed she was exhausted, tired from what could have been a long swim. He knew the feeling well, the degree of tired that had overtaken him coming from the mainland was one that he wished to never feel again. Everyone who had the energy to wash up here was either running from something or to something. Viđarr would keep an eye from her, from his ways off for now. If something else came from the sea to challenge her safety, he’d intervene.
As time passed and no one came, though, Viđarr found himself curious. Though he doesn’t want to disturb her rest, it occurs to him that she may not be asleep at all. Fine of frame, she ran the risk of growing cold as the autumn chill seeped in. Calling out softly, the shadow of a man approached. He’d give the woman her space, but still, he worried. Always a man of few words, however, Viđarr knew not what he wanted to say. “Hej,” the greeting was quiet, his voice soft on the autumn breeze. “Are you okay?” That was a stupid question, on his end, but he wasn’t good at these things. Never had been. Amber eyes resting carefully on the painted mare, but taking more than his fair share of space. Viđarr was hyper aware of himself, of his height, of the way he carried himself in moments like these. It was hard not to be awkward.
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Translations:
Hej - sounds like “hey,” means the same <3
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