1/9/2025, 6:14 PM
The girl was still in the throes of confusion, but she was more lucid than he'd been when his first vision had come. Sverke's curiosity was piqued - the stink of blood on the air and the ragged breathing of his quarry, the hope that he wasn't alone in what plagued him, spurred him into an intense focus bordering on frenzy. He fidgeted, weight shifting between his paws with a faint urge to run, run until his mind cleared and heightened emotions settled themselves.
The Spear wouldn't dare, not now, not with the girl trapped amidst a hell of her own.
At first, the girl tried to deny it - confused, but then Sverke saw realization, understanding, cross her face even amidst the way it contorted in pain. It didn't cross his mind to fetch a healer, not at the moment. He was a hound on a scent, and he had thoughts for nothing else beyond satiating his own curiosity.
I remembered.
Sverke leaned in close. Blood streamed from the star-marked seer's nose. The snow was splashed with red - he was close enough the misted droplets dappled his paler blue toes.
What? Tell me, sister. It is merely a vision - it cannot hurt you, not really. Tell me.
Perhaps she saw Ragnarok. Perhaps she saw him Could she tell him what he was to become? Could she tell him how to evade his fate? Could she tell him why he felt so old, sometimes, like the pull of gravity was still a foreign sensation to him? Perhaps she only saw her own tragedies.
For once, Sverke thought of another beyond his gilded other half - he thought he would not want to be alone during his own 'visions', frightening as they were, so he would not leave this girl to it either.
It's....it's alright. It will not hurt you with me here.
He was the son of gods and goddesses. What did the bastard have to see of her future or past that he could not take on?
