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Víðarr · 11-15-2022, 11:19 PM

She goes stiff, rigid to the touch. It's in this moment that Víðarr anticipates an attack, and knows in his heart of hearts that he deserves it. If she wants to lash out, if she wants to fight, if she wants to sink her teeth in... frankly, he would let her. The shadow had harmed her in every way other than physical, and he knows that it's her right to strike him now. His position here is a vulnerable one, and if it would make Tove feel better, then he'd let her. He'd invite it. If he could offer her an easy way out of all the hurt, all the pain, all of it... Víðarr would happily allow it.

The shadow knows it's not that simple.

Though she relaxes, Víðarr does not. He maintains the tight, tender hold on the woman as she sobs. They resonate as an ache through his chest, through his entire body, but it's all he can do to absorb them as best he can. If he could lend her some of his strength, then that's good enough for him. Softly, from somewhere deep in his chest, the shadow hums a soft song. It's a warrior's hymn, something taken from his mother. Soft, resonating, the sounds deep and steady. A song for marching, yes, but a song of togetherness. Something meant to bring them together.

At Tove's words, though, he falters. The shadow's heart hammers in his chest. Now was not the time for words to fail him, but it seemed that anything he'd say would come up short. "I did... of course I did," barely a whisper when they finally come, an admission that he'd been keeping from everyone including himself. Víðarr's speech is murmured, and maybe a bit shaky. Though he was no stranger to pure emotion, this was still hard.

When he finally speaks, the words are hushed. More words than he's strung together in fuck if he knew how long. More words put end to end in the common tongue than he's maybe ever spoken, but they're important. They carry weight, and sit heavily in the little space between them. "Käraste, my people... we deal in raw feelings. Hatred, terror, rage, desire... it's what makes us dangerous. We are not meant to be loved." Words spoken slowly, with purpose, and he arranges them carefully. When he's done speaking, though, Víðarr doesn't let go. He can't do it. He can't let go of her, not in this moment. The shadow would not be the one to end this embrace, maybe it's in fear that if he does, he'll never see her again.

Kotori, a man that he hasn't seen, hasn't met, but he already hates. If Víðarr were a rational man, he would recognize that hatred as misplaced. The shadow has never been particularly rational. Though he blames himself in all of this, it's easy to blame this stranger too, for keeping Tove away. Still, he does not voice this. It wasn't the right moment. He takes a shaky breath, willing his voice not to crack. "There will always be a place for you by my side, if you want it." Softly, the words come. "But this is not the life I want to offer you." The shadow's words are hushed. Shaky. His life wasn't the sort that you offer to someone like her. Though the shadow wants to provide, in every sense of the word... for now he cannot.

"Víðarr"

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