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[bludstaine]

      the  gods  do  not  hear  her,  so  what  is  there  for  eivor  to  pray  for?  the  heat  of  the  flames  lick  gladly  at  her  flushed  cheeks  as  she  watches  the  great  pyre  burn  before  her.  it  is  with  spite  that  her  tribute  is  flung  into  its  embrace,  dark  eyes  watching  as  it  burns  before,  finally,  she  turns  and  escapes  the  rest  of  the  crowd.  a  silly  tradition  rather  than  a  prayer  in  truth,  something  with  which  to  feel  she  is  doing  something  alongside  the  faithful. 

      how  strange  to  be  here,  to  see  faces  familiar  and  not,  to  feel  the  tension  sitting  heavily  between  she  and  the  ironblood  she  had  abandoned  so  very  many  years  before.  do  they  see  her?  is  she  the  person  she  had  been  amongst  them?  brave  and  battle  worn,  or  attempting  to  be. 

      her  gaze  falls  to  him,  a  brow  arching  in  the  slightest  of  interest  in  the  way  his  eyes  seem  to  track  the  entirety  of  the  worshippers  before  them.  “you  have  nothing  to  offer?”  she  asks,  nodding  towards  the  pyre,  flames  flying  high  and  up  into  the  night,  an  amused  smirk  playing  upon  her  lips.  “the  gods  will  not  be  pleased.”

open starter ;  location ; thingstead, great pyre

smoke had replaced the scent of salt, a fact that aegir was not glad of, as he sat on the edge of the crowds around the great pyre — watching as wishful warriors tossed their tributes into the flames. he had not come to seek the favor of the gods — these were not the gods he prayed to, not the gods he sacrificed to. he prayed to the gods of the sea — and the god of vengeance — and his sacrifice was blood spilled.

it always sufficed. 

no, he sat here for the same reason he had agreed to attend the thingstead in the first place. not for favor from the gods, or the clans, or even for a care about the next high jarl. this was for the benefit of proximity, like lambs to a slaughter. he came, and he sat, to watch. to observe. like a snake waiting in the grass, looking for the right moment to strike.