#trackr

might have downtime for stuff here but if I'm especially quiet it's because I'm busy biting my friends like an excitable lil piranha

assorted injuries || @trackr​

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”

“Have you considered perhaps, mitt systkin, that I do not want your help?”

Their eyes burn like coals behind the helm of their Uncle, their helm now. One arm braced against a nearby tree to keep them upright while the other pressed against their side. A feeble attempt to staunch the bloth that splotched the snow beneath them red. They were fine they had been through worse, so much worse, in years past alone and had managed along just fine. Without their twin present Sølvi had taken up the mantle of leader, a heavy burden that they held onto all this time. By themselves.

They yet to forgive the other for that.

How irksome that they would be injured while their twin was present. The creature they had been hunting had been slaughtered but their strength had begun to fail once they neared the warm lights of the village near dusk. Inge had been there, for what reason they could not say. Perhaps it was foolish to try and push their only kin away when they returned after so long but their aching heart would not listen. For it still bore the cracks placed there many winters ago as they watched Inge’s retreating figure board a ship and disappear into the sky above.

It was a small moment of reprieve, the lingering echo of gunfire melding with the wind that steadily blew. They sat in one of the many small buildings, a door posted at either end, that dotted the landscape. Their third slept fitfully. Vasilija did not sleep. She meticulously polished the gleaming length of her favorite knife, her ears piqued for noises outside. Beside her sat a sniper rifle that she had already tended to with an equal amount of care.