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GO when god closes a door, there's beans on the ground, and that's more sky

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the black spear
Skjǫldrheim
Statistics
Species
wolf

Sex
amab (he/his)

Age
1 [9/4/2024]

Height
Very Tall

Weight
Average

Build
Stocky

Eyes
central heterochromia - inner amber, outer blue

Fur
navy blue, moon silver

Scent
incoming storm & blood

Oddities
gold 'fleck' on nose/muzzle

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The One Who Mocks
#8
 
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She had nothing to say.

Sverke scowled at the girl, finding her refusal to obey his clear and direct orders quickly thinning his patience.

He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He dug his claws into the snow beneath him, a chill crossing his expression as he considered more...forceful means to snap her out of it, or at least get her to start babbling her prophecies so he could knew, and could adapt for them. Everything had changed. Everything was changing, and Sverke needed to be ahead of it. He had to anticipate the problems and cut them off at the root, before they grew and bloomed into catastrophe.

I don't belong here.

Sverke shrugged. Obviously. He snapped flatly, finding the realization not nearly as earth-shattering as she seemed to find it. Perhaps she was a god in a mortal form, perhaps she was a prophetess, perhaps she was simply the accidental progeny of his father and his dove. Whatever the reason, he accepted the girl's claim at face value and with brusque, annoyed dismissal - until the star-studded sister turned and puked.

Scarlet coursed down her chin, splashed across the snow with force behind it that painted a lurid, disgusting piece of abstract art on the pristine powder.

Sverke stared at it, then at the trembling child before him, genuine shock erasing the usual disdain and arrogance scrawled across his expression. Was the girl dying?

Sverke visibly waffled for a few moments more, shuffling his paws and an expression of open disgust and hesitance contorting his face.

Father is going to kill me if you die. The Prince huffed finally, masking his panic beneath a vehement annoyance at the gall of his sister to try to ruin his day like this.

He was never going to hang out with Cupid's pups again. So far, they were all more trouble than they were worth.

Sverke bumped his shoulder into the girl, attempting to either herd her in the direction he wanted them to walk, or offer his sturdy frame as a crutch to lean on - it wasn't entirely clear. Come; Lilja or Cedar will know what to do with you.

Asgeir is welcome in ANY of sverke's threads
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RE: when god closes a door, there's beans on the ground, and that's more sky - by Sverke - 1/9/2025, 7:49 PM

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