#runaljod

The creature COWERS behind their brother; enormous frame barely shielded by the wolf, yet protection is GUARANTEED in his presence. Moder knows how dangerous this is; they had known BETTER, yet attempted it. Against ALL sense, against all logic. Moder allowed the HOPE they kept buried deep to guide them. And it had been a horrible mistake.

Angry AESIR surround the pair; furious that such a CURSED child would dare appear before them. No less at the side of the famed WOLF. Hatred BURNS in their eyes; the worst of all their King’s. Moder met their sire’s gaze, hoping to find even a speck of LOVE in that single eye. All they found was disgust & shame.

runaljod asked: ” Be Honest “ - do you ever think I will be truly capable? That I will harbor strength enough to weird Mjolnir in your stead? ( Magni )

[ ϟ ]— ' You ask earnest words, as though I have ever offered you anything but truth.'

The words leave thunderer low and rumbling, an echo forged in the chest before it is released from the throat, something old and bright crafting it beneath the surface before it was spoken. The night hangs still between them, veined with starlight and flames of hearths and forges dimmed to a weary pulse.

Gaze falls upon his son, broad of shoulder, proud of heart, already weight of inheritance pressing down upon the mighty form.

' The hammer is but a vessel, you know this, a whisper of worth than answers only to that which already burns from within. And you are a mighty flame already, sonr.'

Breath leaves in elongated sigh, and the air seems to stir with it, scent of storm and salt and singed iron weaved through it. The stride is languid, silhouette flickering against the hearth's glow, a titan carved of dusk and lightning. Here the deep bass softens, twinged with pride.

ONE OF THE FIRST WEEKS SINCE BEING IN EUROPE THAT BUFFY GOT A FEW DAYS TO HERSELF . she probably should have guessed it was far too true to be good , but she let her guard down when she got off that plane FCO , the airport. now here she is , her back screaming in agony , a headache from hell and fenrir asking her what happened while in an alleyway in rome , italy. BUT , OF COURSE . what else. her hand comes up to rest against her head , palm pressing into temple to try and relieve some pain. buffy sighs loudly.

She'd been looking between the rainbow-hued Doppler map and the storm growing on the horizon when she felt it first. Like a whisper somewhere behind her ear that urged her to run. To tell Magni to turn the truck around and head the other way because they didn't want to feel her wrath, not this one. She was going to drop down with a vengeance and if they stayed, there would be no escaping her war path.

The radio buzzed softly with another severe thunderstorm warning going into effect. They couldn't see what she saw, what she felt, safe in their weather stations. It took her another ten minutes to work her jaw open enough to speak. "Take that exit," Fox pointed, scanning for shelter. "We need to get out. We need to get under somethin' and we need to do it fast." The rain had been steady, but now it pelted, turning the whole world to water. The wind picked up, faster than it should've, another warning. Or maybe this time, it was a threat.

It wasn't unusual for her to catch her husband coming home from strange travels and adventures in a certain state of chaos of some kind. She loved his mischief and would always be here to offer him a place of safety and to rest from it all, even if it would follow with questions out of concern for him.

After all, it didn't go unnoticed by her how some in Asgard would talk about him or treat him. She noticed it all, being ever observant and hated how it seemed that her fellow Aesir were merely using her husband for their dirty work.

So when her husband returns home after being gone for longer than normal, Sigyn is surprised to find a strange grey eight-legged horse with him, but doesn't question it too much. The former valkyrie is just happy he is home safe and sound, taking him into a tight hug. After a moment, she releases him, finally looking down at the horse.

"Where have you been? It's been nine months, Loki. And do I dare ask who this is?" She's going to anyway, having been worried sick. What had he gotten himself into this time?

The heavy oak doors of Bilskirnir are flung open, as Thor hobbles through with both arms draped around the shoulders of the twins — but he does not fall into a chair like his body desires. Instead he clambers through the hall until he finds Sif ( though likely, she’s not far ). He is bloodied and wounded, but it does not deter the radiance of his smile. The broken, bottom half of gungnir clatters along the stone floor, in offering to her. “I did it.” Finally, I did it. His father still lives, of course ; but taking his life is not what the Thunderer refers to. After so many centuries, so many misdeeds and maltreatment, he’s finally stood his ground — defended the honor of their children, and emerged from the fight as the victor.

ᚦ @runaljod​​

He would not have been   WRONG   to assume Sif was not far, anxious in her restless waiting since his goodbye, though no kitchen was swarmed with the aroma of yeast.   Instead is only translated through the crushed herbs that would be blended into a balm for expected wounds, requesting the aid of both Eir and Magni.   The sound of those heavy doors are what moves her   INSTANTLY   to them, and if not for her mother’s swift arrival to Thor’s side, then Thrud would not have found it so easy to relinquish her hold upon her father.   The lower half of   GUNGNIR   steals her attention for a brief moment, the symbol of his downfall crashing against the stone floors of their home, where tiny feet became thunderous, where the echoes of   LAUGHTER   and tears still rang out when in complete silence  ( like memories upon memories repeated in the mists of time. )   Sif leaps forward, one hand rests against the broadness of his chest as the other reaches up for his cheek, dew swells hastily within the bronze of her eyes; gaze overwhelmed with   WORRY   and adoration.   ❝ Bjarnir min. . . ❞    she presses her lips against his, an acceptance of his offering and   RELIEF   to see him standing victorious.   ❝ I knew you could. ❞   For she is reminded of all the times she had encouraged his defiance against the one who dragged him to the depths of submission, the strength of their children only   PROVING   his power, for they held the same ambitions that was in them both, and it was nourished and nurtured with what they had lacked in their own   REARING.   Her forehead rests against his, ❝ ek ann þér. ❞   She then leads him to a chair  ( a chair that was all too familiar,   MANY TIMES   over. )

❝ You should have seen him, mamma, the look upon the alföðr’s face when he had realized his defeat was   MAGNIFICENT. ❞   Thrud could not restrain herself from once more enveloping her arms around her father’s heavy shoulders from behind,    ❝ our pabbi,   SKÖRUNGR !! ❞   But her own presence is not to linger, she gives her father a spirited kiss to his cheek and yields her hold with a feral grin towards Sif that tells the mother of fierce twins there is more to ensure the weakening of Odin’s   PACK.   And she is gone, with a small whisper to her other half that he need not follow her.   The choir of howling wolves would be satisfied in moment’s time as she calls upon them to join her.

She is to take the last two canines away from Odinn.

Sif, however, is swift to tend to Thor’s wounds.