clouds rolling in

he wants to say he hears her approach, that he can sense her presence long before that sickly-sweet voice rings damningly overhead. in truth, he’d been so ensconced in his task that she just about scares him out of his skin (no offence intended to the newly naked body at his feet), and it takes every inch of control not to visibly startle when the boy turns to find those quicksilver eyes glinting at him from the darkness. her. Styrmir clenches his teeth, memories of their prior meeting blazing through his mind and leaving a scorching trail in its wake. Illusion. he recalls fur-on-fur, the weight of her beneath him, the defiant lift of her chin as he’d pressed a paw to her throat - and it makes something within him flare to sudden, roaring life.

fuck. she can’t be here right now, not when he’s in the middle of such delicate work. she’s a fucking spark flickering on the edge of what is essentially his own personal pyre, and Styrmir will be damned before he lets her burn it all down. “i warned you what would happen if you showed your pretty little face to me again, girl,” he sneers, taking a menacing step forward. it has the added benefit of obscuring part of his shrine from view; the last thing Styrmir wants is that wicked gaze touching any part of it. wait, had he just called her pretty? like, out loud? fuck. “fortunately for you, i have no time for your twisted games today. run along back home while you still can.”

he hates to let her go like this, unmarred and unpunished, but he has to get her away from here. he’s not quite done, after all. there’s more steps to follow, and time is slipping through his grasp. i told you to kill her, She offers i helpfully. i warned you she’d be trouble. it’s not too late. Styrmir grits his teeth. She’s probably right, but the thought of Her having this girl for Herself…jealously is too weak a word.

"Styrmir Trygg"