eyes open

“I told you last week, Isolfr; I haven’t decided whether I’m raiding this year, yet. Give me more time to think on it.”

The conversation had been swirling around Tore for days now, egged on by his older cousin, Isolfr. Raiding was a part of life for them, heading to the shores of the Rus, or England, Eire or Frankia, or even further afield into the Mediterranean sea - and he saw the appeal, in some muted, distant way, like a man seeing the appeal of a bird in flight even if he’d never fly himself. Trained as a skald, inspired by the Gaelic filí of his youth, Tore knew the tales of many a battle by heart, fought by mortals and gods alike. He knew many of his companions dreamed, still, despite the Christians, of Valhalla. He knew they dreamed of wealth. He’d even been raiding himself, as a young man trying to refind himself after his first apprenticeship, he and Isolfr joining a raiding party out in the azure bays and stark cliffs of Sicily.

But he hated it. The truth was, and ever would be, that Tore Skjeggestad was a terrible Viking. Whilst Isolfr seemed to revel in piracy and raiding, Tore participated only as much as got him a share of the loot, and then hemmed and hawed every single year until the last second. He was not a needlessly cruel man - he was only as cruel as it took to get what he wanted, and that meant minimizing bloodshed, not bathing in it. That was just antithetical to the ideals of most of the Vikings he raided with. And though, as a skald, he would be expected to write verses singing of their triumphs… well, he didn’t really have the stomach to participate, despite his flagging reputation.

“Give me until next Saturday - I’ll have an ans-”

Suddenly, a firm shove unbalanced him, and he turned on his heel to see a woman looking up to him with bright blue eyes and bright red hair, all narrowness and hungry, mussed and apologetic. He was stunned momentarily by her knocking into him, but he none-the-less reached out to steady her.

“Be careful,” he said, not at all noticing the lack of weight on his hip, yet.

She didn't overhear much of their conversation - something about raiding, from what she could tell. She almost grimaced in spite of herself; so it was two of those. Wonderful. She had met a handful of the northmen before, traders mostly (lucky she had, and lucky that a few years back she had gotten the idea in her head to learn their language and go northward in search of her father, even if she hadn't done it then). Most of them were generally friendly enough, but there were always one or two that retained a predatory glint in their eye as if they were constantly assessing her city for points vulnerable to attack. This, she was sure, was the sort of conversation that led to those looks, and what few compunctions she'd retained about her intended sleight of hand evaporated on the spot. Fuck 'em.

It was easy enough to pull off. Approach from behind and to the side, "trip", steady herself against him, quickly cut his purse loose as she did, pull back, tuck it away under her belt, and then charm him into noticing absolutely nothing. Easy as pie.

Travelling north had thus far been a complete disappointment.

Of course it had gotten Sigrid out of a certain spot of trouble; she wasn't looking over her shoulder for someone coming to arrest her, and thus her change of scenery had fulfilled its intended purpose. But beyond that? The money she had brought along with her had run out; she was barely scraping by. It was almost insulting - she hadn't precisely been successful back home, but she had been able to feed herself reliably, find somewhere to sleep at night. The backwater farming village she'd found herself stuck in didn't even have an inn as far as she could tell.

But what it did have was something that passed as a marketplace, and marketplaces meant people. Distracted people. Easy marks.

Two in particular had caught her eye. Well, one in particular that happened to have another attached. He was easily the tallest man she had ever seen, and if that wasn't eye-catching enough, he had long blond hair that caught the sun like sparks of fire, and from what she could see of his profile it was outright majestic. And further down... hanging from his belt, a well-made leather coin-purse, largely ignored. Given how well-dressed he was, the quality of his clothing and the presence of jewellery obvious even at a distance, she had high hopes for its contents.

Oh, he was perfect.

"You’re going to tell Isolfr that I swooned.” Sigrid tugging on his hair did not make him look apologetic or even a little bit regretful - he was fully aware of the bullshit he was pulling on her, fully committed to the bit, and more than willing to keep going if it squeezed out a little more enjoyment in the night. “I wonder what story you’ll concoct to explain it, given telling him I did so whilst feeding you is out of the question. He’s quite clever enough to figure out you’re leaving things out or lying.”

Reminding him of the way his heart skipped a little when he made his offer did not bother him at all - he simply shrugged and pulled his thumb away from her nipping teeth. “Should I have been disinterested and impassive about letting you feed from me? Given my only other experience was significantly more violent? I was willing to let you do it, but I still had feelings about it.”

"Oh, I am quite sure I can think of a cause for your swooning that has absolutely nothing to do with blood loss." She smiled. "Maybe a certain lack of blood flow to that beautiful head of yours, yes, but for entirely different reasons."

Brynja, leaned forwards, staring at Sigrid with her eyes narrowed, a challenge written on her face. It was a challenge that said ‘Do you think I’m bluffing? Do you think I’m not going to go ahead with this? Take it seriously.’ But then Sigrid defended her decision to bring up Alduin’s death in the context of their one-upmanship, and Brynja decided that Sigrid was not taking her seriously at all, did think she was bluffing about it, and that she needed to be brought down a notch.

“Fine, you asked for it,” she said, slamming her mead down and getting to her feet, setting off to stalk the tavern and find Tore - wherever his skaldic adventures had taken him.

Sigrid stared open-mouthed at Brynja's back for a moment before whispering Nooooo under her breath and launching herself out of her chair. A bit too fast, truth be told - the world spun around her for a split second before she got her footing right and launched herself at Brynja, wrapping her arms around the other woman's waist.

“I feel like I’m going to regret asking,” he said, words slow as he considered taking them back, “but what is a pyramid scheme, and how much ought I worry when one of them decided to start one? Or be involved in one - the exact venacular escapes me.”

The rest didn’t bother Tore an iota, especially not lockpicking. It was a useful skill, one Sigrid had used to their benefit before - and it wasn’t like he was entirely sure about the legailty of the magic he used, any more. In the cult, it hadn’t mattered - he was judge, jury, and executioner there. And in the Merethic era, they had been the law. Now? Well, he urged Runa to keep the things he taught her quiet and locked away, just to be safe. He gathered modern Nords approved less. Or, more accurately, Nords had always disapproved, they’d just had Atmorans around to tell them to be quiet, or they’d be the next draugr.

A harder strategy to pull off with only one Atmoran.

He stuck to his counter-strategy, building a wall of resistance that could quickly descend on any piece that moved too aggressively towards his tower piece, his distraction actually preventing him from overthinking and making a move on Sigrid’s aimless opener. Building the wall was not something that took a lot of thought, but even if it did help him for one move, he was unaware of how quickly he’d slip back into ruminating away.

Sigrid hesitated for a moment. "Oh, you're going to get ideas if I tell you this. So: Say I decide to start a company for the purposes of... oh, let's say documenting the locations of ancient Nordic ruins. And I go to you and Drevam and I say, 'Gentlemen, I have an enterprise and I think it's going to be quite profitable, but I need investors to get it off the ground. Why don't you two invest in my new company so I can get it started, and in order to maximize all of our profits, why don't you each find two people who would also be willing to invest?'

“Then the two of you each go off and you find a few more people who for some reason think this is a good idea to involve themselves with, get them to pay in, all three of us get a cut of their payment, and then we send them off to recruit more 'investors'. You and I and Drevam and your recruits all take a cut of their initial payment, and on and on it goes until the well is dry, someone notices that there has been no actual documentation of ruins, and I leave in the night just before it all comes crashing down." She smiled brightly. "That is a pyramid scheme, and that is why I'm very glad you talked me out of Riften as the backup plan. Can you imagine those girls with their adorable little faces, a plan to sell people about going door to door with cookies, and knowledge of pyramid schemes? A nightmare. I wasn't even that dangerous at their age."

Sigrid settled against his chest, tucking herself under his chin, and Tore basked in the warm sensation blooming inside his chest as he cuddled her closer and rested his chin atop the crown of her head - pausing for just a moment to press his lips against her auburn hair, first. She was such a warm, grounding presence in his life, and he thanked the Gods silently for delivering her to him. All of their troubles - they were worth it, when he had Sigrid in his arms, her hair beneath his fingers, her head tucked against his chest. She was worth it.

“What?” he asked, the warmth of the moment broken by Sigrid’s worry - and the cold sluice of anxiety only worsened when she shook her head and refused to share her troubles with him. His petting of her hair stopped and he lifted his chin from her head, leaning back to try and get a look at Sigrid’s face. What was bothering her? Why wouldn’t she tell him? “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Sigrid sighed, trying to tuck her head back under his chin as he pulled back. She shouldn't have said anything. "Nothing's wrong," she murmured. "Nothing I haven't already told you. I just don't like how involved the Chantry is with all of this. I don't trust them, I don't like them, but unlike the Tevinters, everyone else who isn't involved with them does. If the Tevinters act up, we'll have the whole Inquisition on our side, but if the Chantry does? I know there aren't many Templars here, but..." She reached up and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm not sure you really understand what it was like growing up with them. Knowing what would happen if I wasn't careful and the wrong person saw the wrong thing. I know I've told you, I know you listened, but... it was so much worse actually being there." Taking a deep breath, she pressed her face against his chest. "I don't know if I'm being sensible by disliking it so much or if I'm just remembering that. I don't want any more of them here, but I don't...."

bold  what  applies  to  your  muse. repost  ;  do  NOT  reblog.

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𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁   »   goose  bumps,  leather  jackets,  adventure,  chewing  nails,  cares  deeply  but  can’t  show  it,  bronze  locks,  no  sleep,  taste  of  iron,  netflix  binges,  never  forgets, combat  boots,  stories  behind  scars,  table  for  one,  official  soundtracks,  sore  calves,  trusts  themselves  the  most

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𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴   »   flirtatious  sarcasm,  candid  photos,  lost  phone  chargers,  adrenaline  rush, picking  dirt  out  from  beneath  their  nails,  social  chameleon,  clashing  clothes,  self-deprecating  jokes,  claw  machines,  sits  in  chairs  wrong,  smudged  eyeliner,  has  too  many  sunglasses,  eats  nothing  or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁   »   infectious  laugh,  family  trees,  shivers  down  their  spine,  lipstick  and  roses,  mood  swings,  clumsy,  believing  in  destiny,  high  expectations, sleeping  in  darkness,  collection  of  nail  polish,  passionate,  good  grades  but  never  studies,  poetry  books,  blowing  kisses,  not  knowing  their  own  strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺   »   knowing  everyone’s  secrets,  backpack  covered  in  pins,  envy,  being  in  walmart  late  at  night,  earl  grey,  selective  memory,  conspiracy  theories  and  cryptids, keysmashing,  need  to  know  basis,  can’t  cook,  bags  under  eyes,  experimental  art, flickering  bulbs,  black  clothing  all  year  long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳   »   piles  of  textbooks,  cat  in  lap,  keeping  a  diary,  indecisions,  scented  candles, studying  alone  in  a  café,  lingering  touches,  museum  dates,  unanswered  questions,  taking  on  too  much  responsibility,  collections,  chalk  dust,  comfy  robes, unnecessary  apologies, coming  home  after  a  long  day

[ unusual words ]

Ostentiferous: What’s the unluckiest thing that’s ever happened to them? 

stares at my dash