their fall from grace will pave their path

Tension so thick you could slice it with a knife, spreading in the space between them. Björn straightening to his full height, showing off as he moves closer to the girl. A spark that can't be put out. Slinking, creeping nearer. His gaze is steady on her... far more a woman than a girl, at this point. Filling out, though there would be time yet before they were truly adult. Hell, there's a breed of children in these lands, who considered themselves adults long before reaching that break point. Björn and Calliope are cut from similar cloth. Made of the same stuff, and washed clean by the same fire.

Savoring her company and the red night spread before them, even if he's unsettled by the night spread around them. The trees provided cover, so much cover. Cover for them, and whatever they may get up to tonight. Cover for things lurking beyond sight, and that's perhaps the worst of it all. A deceptively secretive atmosphere, winding around his shoulders and keeping them both hidden from prying eyes. Björn finds comfort in it, letting the nature of the fjord take hold and live in his system.

The tumult in his head is amplified by her presence. A predatory step closer, he's just out of her reach now. "I've gone from crown prince to nothing, in the eyes of my father and his laws. In an instant, at the hands of an old man who's losing his mind." The words come as a hiss, Björn bristling. "It's a good thing their laws mean nothing to the gods." Disowned is perhaps too strong a word, his name hadn't been stripped, but the falling out had been bloody. His tone shifts to something conspiratorial. There are too many thoughts in his head, and all of them scream revolution. Anarchy is the only way.

"Where have you been hiding from me?" Carefully watching the girl's face, taking her in as he errs ever closer. Leaning in, tense, curious. Just as predatory, resting on the edge of danger. Always on the edge.

"Björn"