the truth of the matter

[pyrogue]

forced truth meme

1. Post your character(s)
2. People respond to your character with a question
3. Your character must reply, and they must reply honestly
4. ????
5. Have fun. Remember to check back later for people in different timezones!

Comments

[numberthree]

No. At least not directly to any specific words.

[helpdesk_hero]

But the sentiment of them?

[berserksgangr]

[ There's something funny that strikes him suddenly when he hears Askeladd echo his sentiment. So many of their men sign up for the promise of gleaming gold, the heavy spoils of every long voyage out. They'll follow in whatever direction their leader points them toward, a belief in a victory they may not be able to see when their oars first push away from the rocky shore.

Bjorn doesn't care a whit about the gold, but it isn't too different otherwise. Askeladd tells him where to aim a spear and he throws, not even thinking of who sits in wait behind the curtain. He swings his sword down at the Englishmen not for the thrill of gold, but in faith to a cause he won't ever live to see. There's a smile that works at the edges of his mouth, a low chuckle grinding out from deep in his belly. ]

That's the spirit.

[numberthree]

Sort of.

Or more like, I'd end up sort of knowing which direction you'd go, like more. Maybe. Mood wise? If not the words exactly. Except it was more like a guess and less certain, except often sort of close to right more often than not.

[helpdesk_hero]

Interesting. Maybe to do with whatever happened in that whole time gap in my head.

[numberthree]

Maybe.

How much have you found out about your other self there?

[helpdesk_hero]

I was apparently sleeping with my two best friends. Who are a couple here. So you know, SUPER awkward.

[afallon]

[And just that, somehow, is enough to break the tension. Over ten years of familiarity, sitting at the same fire, fighting shoulder to shoulder. That's enough. His own smile tugs his lips upwards.]

Nothing else for it.

[berserksgangr]

[ Maybe that's his only regret now. A warrior fights along with his men, drinks and spends his time by the fire, shrugs off the bitter frost and twisting wind while at sea; in all of these things they've shared already, but when he's dead and truly gone, and the Valkyrie bring him to feast in the hall of the gods—Bjorn knows Askeladd doesn't pledge himself in the same way. Wherever he goes when the time comes it won't be along that same path.

Bjorn tilts his head low, chin to chest. The smile is resolved to stay, and he holds onto the moment; a berserker loses all sense in battle, knowing nothing of friends and foes, the where or the why. But this is deliberate, a moment captured in the strength of both hands, a happiness clenched greedy between his teeth. ]