S
iguršr's glacial blue gaze drawn to the pretty girl with sad eyes. There is something about her that eases the loneliness in his soul, like a salve that soothes the dull ache. So much has been laid across his shoulders from the time he was just a young colt. Expectations. The Heaviness of his
fadir's name. The Ridge. And then the downfall of his family. His
fadir disappearing within himself. And now the loss of his entire family. He drew a breath across his whiskered lips, so much weighs down on him that someday's it is hard to breath. Hard to carry on.
"That is tough luck," she murmurs and draws him from his self loathing.
The islands certainly have a strange sense of humor." "Indeed they do," he nods and contemplates in more way than one their sense of humor.
His ears are drawn toward her as she continues to expand on how her situation is much like his own. Her brother. And her nephew both are bound to the same path.
None of which has stopped them from keeping me captive to have leverage over my father and my..." intently he listens as she finds her next words.
and Fell.
It ALL sounds like his mother. Many times before he has seen her use anyone to get what she wanted. Capturing. Bargaining. He snorts a frustrated huff. He understood the need to bargain, etc, but to the extent that his mother does - never will make sense to him. Then to have her own brother involved in the betrayal only added to her situation.
Are we equal?" she asked. A smile begins to creep across his whiskered lips.
"I would say you're the winner," he chuckles,
"two to one."
"So, we are both held here against our will, stuck in this desert wasteland AND our family's are the captors," he pauses thoughtfully,
"at least, we have each other?"he offers as he tries to find the silver lining. He, of course, did not mind being stuck in this desert wasteland with such beautiful company.
Suddenly, it dawns on him that he has yet to introduce himself to the pretty girl of black and white.
"I have failed to introduce myself," he admits to her
"I am Siguršr Bjornson, but my friends call me Sig," he dips his head gently as he introduces himself. Despite, what has happened with his fadir - announcing himself as Bjornson - always brings a swell of pride.
"If you could travel anywhere on the Isles... where would you go?" he asks with a gentle tilt of his crown. Eagerly, his ears waver atop his head - hungry for her sweet melody to fill the narrow space between them. If he had to - he would sit here and ask her questions until dawn, just to hear her voice in the sultry desert air.
