Private Roleplay Into dust together

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」
Raihn
Slightly backdated because I'm late to the party

He'd waited until the moment felt right, selfishly until he felt mentally stable enough to confront a tie to his origins, no matter if it friend or foe. There was a shakiness that rippled through the god's body as he wandered toward where Raihn had been kept, healing his battered body. He was hesitant, of course, but he needed to do this sooner rather than later.

Firstly, he'd waited until the traffic in the area stilled and there was finally a moment of peace to organise his mind and do this the right way. He didn't need no onlookers, no listening ears hearing their Skorungr's weakness as he met the injured man. Next, he simply moved in. He had no time to calm his nerves as he called the norseman's name.

Raihn? his voice cracked, the clearing of his throat following as he mentally scolded himself for being the way he was. There were so many questions he had, so many answers he needed. The pressure was on, even if it was figurative and alone in his mind. He just wanted to see his friend in one piece.

It seemed futile, to remember a life that no longer existed. No, he was not dead, but the life he'd once lived, the life he'd left—there was nothing but severed ties that remained. Even the land, which looked utterly the same, felt different. Unfamiliar.

He'd woke with Freya on his mind. Though it was not her gold-flecked skin that he'd dreamt of, but instead her offspring. Astryr. She was not with him, neither tucked into his side or resting somewhere nearby. Raihn stirred, still incapacitated despite the rest he allowed himself. He needed to search for her, to find her; she couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't—

She couldn't just be gone.

It was in that moment of panic that he found his name on the wind, severed from the tongue of a man he thought he'd never see again. From a man he envied.

Maybe it was that same bitter jealousness that settled like a heavy-weighted darkness over his heart, or maybe it was the loss he knew they'd both endured. A grief no doubt rekindled at the sight of each other.

Týr? It was uttered back, crimson eyes squinting at the mouth of the den.