silent whispers silent tears

He moves, between the trees, across the lands, and swims across the occasional stream or river. His journey is fresh and new, his mind decided, yearning, for the family he has yet again been delivered from. His life. His Valhalla. His sweet, sweet, Ashtoreth. With easy breath, he flies over the final hills, his muscles quivering beneath the cold, shaking in the snowy wonderland. Valhalla: he is home, reconciled with the place he has yearned for so long, and in his solemn hour he finds the grace, the strength, and now, the knowledge to stand for, and beside, what he so longing loves. His family.

Head would rock backwards and he would refuse to pay attention to the Valhallan borders, this place, was his home, and he would not be driven out, he would not abandon it as though he once had. Blue gaze locks onto the Earth, devouring it's luscious endeavors, and the king presses his bulk forward, shifting between a gait and a slow trot. His summons, his daunting song, a summons for her- for Ash, and it comes without relent. It comes with passion and song, with loving devotion. While, his future, with or without her, is undecided, he puts faith in something more, in their bond, and he prays she answers, prays she remembers. -has it been so long? am I past forgiveness?