Setting
Place: Sólundarhaf Sea
Time of Day: Early Evening
Event: Viggo's Funeral
Season: Haustmánuður (Autumn)
Silence ensued Althea's words and it was not a promising quietude. The clans begrudged the Jomsvikings for not taking a political stance, but though she was not the leader of the group, she knew her fellow warriors enough to respond with confidence. No, the confidence of her words was not feigned- merely that of speaking out in general.
Althea did not wish to deepen the chasm of division amongst her people. Though she knew she was not the cause of it, seeing the rage and malice in their gazes reflecting back at her, made her wary.
Opening her mouth to once more try to sway the clans people of their errant ways, her words were cut short by the thunderous drumbeats. Saxons had been spotted along the border. Whether at sea or by land, she did not know. The only thing evident was that she was clearly wasting her time attending the latest meeting of the clans. They knew not of which clan or clans member they wanted to lead the people, only that not having a Chieftain would not suffice.
Until they reached a place of unity, such a decision would not be made.
"So, your group will not rally behind Ylfing?"
This question created an uproar.
"Ylfing? Are you mad?"
"Moontouched, he is."
"Skjöldung will be the next clan to-"
Tuning them out, Althea picked up her weapon and proceeded through the crowd. Whatever else they had to say, it would be nothing enlightening. She had heard the arguments before, knew them by heart, and still could not vouch for one clan over the other. Mayhap, one of the Jomsvikings should rule.
But then, none seemed interested in ruling over grown children who threw fits just as well as they did axes.
Tethered to a tree just outside of the meeting area, her horse lifted its head upon her arrival, twitching its ears as if capable of separating her footfall from any other. The beast was large, even for a mount, having been her father's before his passing. It was a war mount, but it sufficed for everyday travel as well.
Before she could mount, a hand still hers as she loosened the reins that tied the animal to the tree.
The man, a complete stranger, held her hand, gripping it in his icy palm as his grey, blue eyes locked her in their gaze.
"Here you are, running away from the troubles of the clans. And they claim Jomsvikings are not cowards," he muttered, a sneer distorting the curve of his lips in a rather unappealing manner.
She snapped her hand out of his grasp, noticing the halfmoons his nails had imprinted along her pale skin. Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face him, chin lifted and eyes unwavering. Who was he to try to intimidate her?
"Touch me again and you will find that Jomsvikings never run away from trouble."
He seemed almost tempted to do so again. Instead, the man faltered a step and glared. "You are not helping anyone by ignoring what needs to be done. The Jomsvikings can end all this arguing and fighting by simply appointing the next Chieftain."
Was he right? Did they hold as much away as he seemed to think they did?
She shook her head. "We are merely warriors, not politicians. We will merely be mudding the water by getting involved. Besides, if you attended that meeting, you witnessed their response to my words. They will not see reason."
"No," he said, lifting a brow. "Perhaps, they will not, at least so as long as it comes from a woman. But a man-"
Again, the drums rang out.
Tearing herself from the pointless conversation at the same time she did the reins from the tree, she swung up onto the horse and mentally went over the catalogue of weaponry at her disposal. If this battle had been like the others of recent, it would be quick and easy, but one could never been to cautious before entering a fight.
Before she could leave, the man captured her horse's mouthpiece, stirring a startled cry from her horse. Reflexively, she withdrew a dagger in less time than it took the man to blink, and held it to the man's throat. She had plenty of forbearance for many things, but one thing she would not tolerate was a man mistreating her animal.
Slowly, the man released the horse and backed away. He set his murderous glare on her once more.
"Don't forget what we have discussed this day."
She would not even if she willed it. How could she?
Without responding to the petulant man, she snapped the reins, ridding herself of the man and the unnecessary drama he created with just his presence.
In a kaleidoscope of pale greens, browns, and the barest of yellows, the forest flew past her as her horse carried her in the direction of the battle. Despite where they were headed, her mind was a thousand miles away, attempting to work out the issues that would take far longer than a few seconds to remedy- and take more than just one woman.
One thing was clear. There was no peace in sight for the clans.
Place: Sólundarhaf Sea
Time of Day: Early Evening
Event: Viggo's Funeral
Season: Haustmánuður (Autumn)
Silence ensued Althea's words and it was not a promising quietude. The clans begrudged the Jomsvikings for not taking a political stance, but though she was not the leader of the group, she knew her fellow warriors enough to respond with confidence. No, the confidence of her words was not feigned- merely that of speaking out in general.
Althea did not wish to deepen the chasm of division amongst her people. Though she knew she was not the cause of it, seeing the rage and malice in their gazes reflecting back at her, made her wary.
Opening her mouth to once more try to sway the clans people of their errant ways, her words were cut short by the thunderous drumbeats. Saxons had been spotted along the border. Whether at sea or by land, she did not know. The only thing evident was that she was clearly wasting her time attending the latest meeting of the clans. They knew not of which clan or clans member they wanted to lead the people, only that not having a Chieftain would not suffice.
Until they reached a place of unity, such a decision would not be made.
"So, your group will not rally behind Ylfing?"
This question created an uproar.
"Ylfing? Are you mad?"
"Moontouched, he is."
"Skjöldung will be the next clan to-"
Tuning them out, Althea picked up her weapon and proceeded through the crowd. Whatever else they had to say, it would be nothing enlightening. She had heard the arguments before, knew them by heart, and still could not vouch for one clan over the other. Mayhap, one of the Jomsvikings should rule.
But then, none seemed interested in ruling over grown children who threw fits just as well as they did axes.
Tethered to a tree just outside of the meeting area, her horse lifted its head upon her arrival, twitching its ears as if capable of separating her footfall from any other. The beast was large, even for a mount, having been her father's before his passing. It was a war mount, but it sufficed for everyday travel as well.
Before she could mount, a hand still hers as she loosened the reins that tied the animal to the tree.
The man, a complete stranger, held her hand, gripping it in his icy palm as his grey, blue eyes locked her in their gaze.
"Here you are, running away from the troubles of the clans. And they claim Jomsvikings are not cowards," he muttered, a sneer distorting the curve of his lips in a rather unappealing manner.
She snapped her hand out of his grasp, noticing the halfmoons his nails had imprinted along her pale skin. Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face him, chin lifted and eyes unwavering. Who was he to try to intimidate her?
"Touch me again and you will find that Jomsvikings never run away from trouble."
He seemed almost tempted to do so again. Instead, the man faltered a step and glared. "You are not helping anyone by ignoring what needs to be done. The Jomsvikings can end all this arguing and fighting by simply appointing the next Chieftain."
Was he right? Did they hold as much away as he seemed to think they did?
She shook her head. "We are merely warriors, not politicians. We will merely be mudding the water by getting involved. Besides, if you attended that meeting, you witnessed their response to my words. They will not see reason."
"No," he said, lifting a brow. "Perhaps, they will not, at least so as long as it comes from a woman. But a man-"
Again, the drums rang out.
Tearing herself from the pointless conversation at the same time she did the reins from the tree, she swung up onto the horse and mentally went over the catalogue of weaponry at her disposal. If this battle had been like the others of recent, it would be quick and easy, but one could never been to cautious before entering a fight.
Before she could leave, the man captured her horse's mouthpiece, stirring a startled cry from her horse. Reflexively, she withdrew a dagger in less time than it took the man to blink, and held it to the man's throat. She had plenty of forbearance for many things, but one thing she would not tolerate was a man mistreating her animal.
Slowly, the man released the horse and backed away. He set his murderous glare on her once more.
"Don't forget what we have discussed this day."
She would not even if she willed it. How could she?
Without responding to the petulant man, she snapped the reins, ridding herself of the man and the unnecessary drama he created with just his presence.
In a kaleidoscope of pale greens, browns, and the barest of yellows, the forest flew past her as her horse carried her in the direction of the battle. Despite where they were headed, her mind was a thousand miles away, attempting to work out the issues that would take far longer than a few seconds to remedy- and take more than just one woman.
One thing was clear. There was no peace in sight for the clans.