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[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=pink]Cuyler Eysteinsson[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]https://i.gifer.com/Ua0e.gif[/img][/center]

[hr][center][color=pink]Location:[/color] The Well of Mimir -- Asgard
[color=pink]Skills:[/color] [/center][hr]

	The sound of Arya’s voice in Cuyler’s ear was pristine and perfect. If he shut his eyes he imagined he would picture her, draped in the candle light from his ship, singing to him as he would often ask her to right before they fell asleep. His heart ached for her and he fought the urge to turn into a waiting embrace that was not there. That weakness seeped into his muscles and although the hooded figure asked him a question, Cuyler did not hear. The waters were calling to him, rippling underneath their un-moving feet in lazy patterns. Cuyler peered into the water, his arms relaxing as the waters themselves seemed to call to him. He only managed to pull away when he felt the sensation of the waters calling him to dive in, to drown. Drowning had always been a fear of Cuyler’s. He would not walk into it willingly. 
	The hooded figure asked yet another question to which Cuyler heard clearly and paid attention. He stood straight and looked the figure in what he assumed to be the face and spoke. [color=pink]”I seek to drink from the waters of Mimir. I offer my eye as sacrifice.”[/color] Cuyler gestured to the arrow that still stuck out from his eye. He became nervous that he would now have to pluck his own eye out but he supposed that would be part of the deal. How would one even pluck their own eye out? It didn’t seem pleasant at all. Then again, getting an arrow shot in his eye wasn’t pleasant either. On the upside, Cuyler was getting used to only be able to see from one eye.