GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER
But the devil always won...
Raiding season was around the corner but Hárekr was not yet in the right frame of mind or body for the slaughter to come… assuming they would raid at all. So many young and inexperienced warriors. Would it be better to wait? Oh, certainly not? What would his darling Constanza, say? Mismatched eyes glittered with delight as he drank in the sight of the exotic stones. Lean shoulders rolled forward lightly, back and forth as the gears of his mind clicked around in their typical aimless matter. Was he strong enough to survive a raid? There were other means of trade. Whispers winding up north with the southern wind but trade had never really been Hárekr’s expertise. He traded in blood, humor and little else. Though he did relish the idea of acting as a noble body guard to Yfir’s traders as they went about their way interacting with others of Boreas. Assuming anyone even wanted to interact with them. Diplomacy was so tedious but essential for budding trade routes.
Hárekr backed away from the stones, whispering a soft prayer before going on his merry way to…. crap…. where was he going? He slipped around a gnarled oak tree to spy three women. Lovely things. Strange things. He stepped forward, voice floating lyrically into the air. “I wonder if I’ve stumbled into the presence of the norns. Would you tell a poor sinner his future?”
"Monsters don't sleep under your bed, they sleep inside your head."
