When there's not much left to live for

Eisleif watched him as he offered his name and paused for just a moment. With a surname like that she almost expected him to tell her that she was wrong and he was just good enough no one had ever touched him. An amusing thought, but as he continued he would prove the possibility false. She was a little disappointed to hear him say that he didn’t have much desire to harm anyone. Eisleif believed fully it was her right to harvest from those wolves who could not protect their own. The differences in the way they lived their lives was glaringly obvious, and for a moment she debated about chasing him from the island’s presence all together.

His second statement and, though she would never admit it, his charming wink convinced her otherwise. Ah regrets, the older she became the more they popped up. Thorne for example. Eisleif tried to banish the woman from her mind. She had come in suddenly and stolen Eisleif’s heart only to disappear after the Finnvi had thought her captured. It had been the other way around unfortunately. Thoughts of Thorne made her lonely, and maybe that was why she found herself so interested in the pale marked man. He was older, but his spark had obviously not been snuffed out yet.

”You’re a feisty ol’ bastard, aren’t you?” She teased as she took a step closer, having not missed his roving eyes. She couldn’t help but enjoy his attentions despite his advanced age. ”What do you think, want to get the blood pumping a bit?” Her nordic accent shone through. ”Show me what you’re made of, Hymn?”