milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Sinric sits on the balcony of the bar, a fur coat pulled tight around himself against the cold. The snow is falling thicker and faster now, lacing the trees and the gardens in white.

He sings softly to himself, hands hidden in his sleeves.

Those with a gift for magic might notice a soft net of gold glowing under the skin of his pale cheeks. Even to those without such sight, he looks better than he was, more colour in his cheeks and his eyes look less hollow.

Company would be very welcome.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm sorry." Sinric pulls away a little, rubbing at his eyes. "The Seeing, it doesn't help. It doesn't fix things." His voice rises in distress. "I just wanted you to know it's not your fault."

"It is still hard," Ragnar muses, "to know that, even if it's not my fault, I can't help him to get better. We simply need to go forward, and I can hold him in my arms again in our world, take him home to Kattegat and my kids -- but he is just stuck, his decisions jammed up against each other, and so here we are, and unhappiness piles up. Helping you brought us closer than we'd been for a while."

Sinric moves to embrace Ragnar, in both support and apology.

Ragnar puts his arms around him and pulls him tight.

Sinric presses his face into Ragnar's neck, holding his beloved tight.

He brought the tree here because he needed his friends to be his strength, but he knows they need strength too. And he wishes he had more to give.

"I will always love you." He whispers in Ragnar's native tongue.

Ragnar buries his face in Sinric's hair, and sighs.

Sinric lets tears well and fall. Tears he has tried to hold back. Softly and silently they fall; for Athelstan so weighted down by darkness, for Ragnar so mired by helplessness. And for himself and his own selfish heart that wants them back as they were.

Ragnar holds him close, stroking his hair and back. In comforting Sinric, he may be comforting himself as well.

The mutual comfort helps. Sinric has been struggling very much with his place in their lives. And being held by Ragnar makes him feel more centred. And more loved.

"Sinric," Ragnar whispers, softly, not letting go. His voice is thick with emotion.

"Ragnar," Sinric's is no loss laden with emotions. Too many things too long suppressed. And all of them bubbling to the surface as heavy tears.

For all the powers he has gained, Sinric can't do the one thing he wants most in the world - his beloved ones happy.

Ragnar holds him, strokes him, wraps him up in his strong limbs.

"May I stay with you tonight?" He whispers into Ragnar's neck. "I don't want to be without you."

"Yes," Ragnar says. "You are always welcome with me."

Even if they will be achingly missing Athelstan. They had been together without him before, often, but not while they knew that he was in such a bad way.

Sinric nods, and tightens his arms around Ragnar. "I know. I just... I'm less sure about myself than I have been for a long time."

"After you wandered down the webs of destiny?" Ragnar asks.

He nods. "Yes. And since I have become a seiðmaðr. Who I am has changed, I still don't understand it completely."

"I don't think anybody ever completely understands themselves," Ragnar says.

He sniffs quietly and nods, his face still pressed into Ragnar's neck. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid if I don't learn to master these gifts I may hurt someone. It's you and Athelstan I fear most for. I could not bear to bring either of you more harm."

"But you never brought either of us any harm to begin with," Ragnar argues.

Sinric doesn't answer but clings a little. Just as Ragnar wonders, Sinric too wonders if he is to blame for Athelstan's pain. Had he not brought them together, things would have been very different. Not happier perhaps, but they would not be suffering as they now are.

Ragnar dips his head to kiss Sinric's cheek, tasting tears on his lips.

Sinric turns to kiss back. A little urgently, a little desperately, craving contact and the sureness of Ragnar's love.

Ragnar sighs deeply, and kisses him fully on the lips, adding some fire to the comfort.

Sinric finds himself moaning into the kiss just a little, letting it wash over. He doubts so much of late, it is good not to doubt that he is still desirable. And more than than, still loved.

He shudders slightly under his coat of fur, feeling himself warm.