|Derek knows all of life is (cyclical) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-01-15 22:36:00
|Entry tags:||*log, derek friggsdottir, ragnar lothbrook|
Derek and Ragnar
Who: Derek and Ragnar
What: A conversation
Where: Repose forest
When: During this
Warnings/Rating: Probably low.
The fire wasn't needed to keep her warm, yet she pushed her hands out to it anyway, turning them to and fro, watching as pale skin turned the color of fall leaves, courtesy of the flames. A deer was roasting in the fire to her right, the skin already prepared, and one man sat whittling the antlers for knives. All around there were snippets of conversation, two women talking about fishing, while a pair of men talked about steel and which type made for a better blade. Further off there was the whooping cry as another group hunted their quarry.
She breathed in deep, tongue pushing at her teeth as she caught the scent of the roasting deer, thick and meaty. The malt from the ale, even the scent of wood burning, and the low undertone of iron spilt -- these were all the things or home and she grinned to the darkened sky. This was her gift to her people -- to her almost people. The cycle was incomplete, and there was another cycle that needed completion.
Derek turned, the long drape of her braid falling down her back, and stared at the man that hovered near the two fires that marked the entrance to their clearing. Another inhale, as it was not time to partake yet in all the festivities. Duty had to be attended to and the weight of old things needed to be held aloft.
"Come, Ragnar," she said, voice still lilted and accented, as though she was both asking a question and delivering a command.