GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER
But the devil always won...
Harbringr trotted along after his siblings as they headed to the viking festival. He'd forgotten what exactly it was called but it sounded like a good time to him. Costanza soared above him, her pale, silent form slipping through the darkness like a graceful ghost. The gathering looked to be a good one, including fresh game, booze and a raging bonfire. He didn't quite understand the purpose of the great, black horse. He assumed it would be some sort of extra meal if the variety of game was not enough to sate all the guests. He moved to sit on the other side of Deathbelle. Leaning over he sniffed inquisitively at the alcohol in front of him before staring at Belle's. Grinning he playfully leaned over to nudge her shoulder. "Want me to take that off your paws?"
