4/25/2025, 6:02 PM
The half-sister, he couldn't have cared less about. Or, that's what Sverke told himself, anyway.
But his father being gone for so long...It had put him on edge. He was pretty sure he was going to wear a moat into the sand surrounding the island with how often he found himself patrolling, his mind wandering while his paws drummed the earth as steady as his heartbeat. It soothed him now the same as it did when he'd been younger.
He feared he knew why, now. Bragi's words haunted him. Hati and Skoll.
Monstrous wolf-gods, harbingers of the end of all things; was that what he was? An omen, an advent of destruction? He had been prophesized, but it was not for the destruction of this world. He had to believe he hadn't been brought into being here just to tear it all down. As much as Sverke's blood sang for the fight, his paws itched for the chase; he got to choose, didn't he?
He would never harm his twin. He might bully and banter with his siblings, but he didn't want them to burn amongst the ashen end of all things, either. They were his, his to keep, his to protect, his to love in whatever ways the greedy boy's heart could.
Nothing, not even the twisted strands of fate, could take what was his away.
So, then, where was Tyr?
His footfalls carried him, breezily light despite his heavy thoughts, until Sverke spotted Venusson. Easily recognized, but never yet acknowledged by the Prince.
They appeared to be under the same heavy weight on their shoulders, now. Sverke skimmed his gaze over the spiked fur along the wolf's spine, the flowers tucked into his pastel pelt a contrast, but not a confusing one. After all, Sverke's mother was goddess of life and death, gold and war, fertility and wrath. He understood dichotomies well, although he tried not to think on Freya for too long, these days. It always hurt, no matter how much time had passed since she'd been called, and he'd been left here.
Maybe she'd known the ruin he'd once embodied, a lifetime ago.
Sverke sauntered closer, watching with unveiled curiosity as the blind wolf caught the sound of his pawsteps through the rustling grass, pricking his ears and coming to a halt.
No sign of them, still?He asked, and hated himself for how childish the question sounded. Like he was looking to Cupid for guidance, for, gods forbid, reassurance. It's YOUR daughter he's out there with. He wouldn't be gone if not for her. Sverke thought, venomously, but he held his tongue for the moment. He wasn't sure whether the haggard, flinty look on the man's face was one that was going to prompt the Prince into a fit of vehemence, or if it was a look that told him to be cautious and pay respect where it was due.
