7/1/2025, 4:08 PM
about 10 months
The first on the scene was the Skorungr's teenaged son - the morning sun gleamed in his ice-and-fire gaze as he approached the starting point for the festivities.
Whatever grief, whatever anger, whatever shit he had going on with himself - these unfortunate impulses to destroy, his visions, his fear...Sverke packed it all up. He shoved it all down, away, where he couldn't see it, and where no one else could, either. There was a party to put on, after all. His father needed this, Sverke thought. Maybe they all did.
The young prince arrived clad in midnight velvet, his fresh-washed pelt freckled with starlight catching the rays of the dawning sun. He'd put in an effort, and it was clear - from his well-groomed fur to the daisies and wolfsbane woven into the strands draped around his neck. He was gradually beginning to fill out, looking more and more like a proper young man than the awkward juvenile gangliness that had long plagued him. Sverke lifted his chin proudly upon spotting Tyr, closing the distance with a prancing jog, his tail bannered behind him and a smug smirk upon his face.
Pabbi.He greeted, before doing a little spin in front of Tyr - clearly looking for praise for his stylish 'fit, emphasized by the cocky tilt to his crown as he came to a halt.
