Floki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gods_that_haunt_me) wrote2015-03-15 03:21 am
gods_that_haunt_me) wrote2015-03-15 03:21 am
Entry tags:
test drive / milliways
A tall, lanky man, seemingly made up entirely of long lines and angles, wanders into the bar through the back door.
He's been out all day, exploring the forest. Listening to the trees.
(They were quite talkative.)
The waitrats scatter as he crosses the room. They probably don't like the hatchet tucked into his belt. Or the knife. Or the sword.
He snickers at their fright. He's harmless! Really!
(No, he isn't.)
"Lady Bar, a cup of mead, if you please," he says in Old Norse. A horn cup appears, and he takes a swig.
He's been out all day, exploring the forest. Listening to the trees.
(They were quite talkative.)
The waitrats scatter as he crosses the room. They probably don't like the hatchet tucked into his belt. Or the knife. Or the sword.
He snickers at their fright. He's harmless! Really!
(No, he isn't.)
"Lady Bar, a cup of mead, if you please," he says in Old Norse. A horn cup appears, and he takes a swig.
no subject
A grin suddenly creases Floki's sun and sea-weathered face.
"Elrond," he says with a deep nod. "I am Floki of Kattegat, shipwright to Earl Ragnar Lothbrok."
It seems fitting that he ought to state his home and occupation, and proudly at that.
no subject
"I grew up by the Sea myself," Elrond replies. "Sometimes, I still find myself missing the sound of waves."
There is a hint of nostalgia in his voice. He does miss it at times. It is not the Sea-longing that may afflict elves born and raised among the trees. It is the longing all may feel when remembering happy times a long time ago.