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

[afallon]

[It's impossible not to note the movement of course. Impossible not to note where Bjorn's hand lands - not where Askeladd had aimed, but where the blow had actually landed.

What did it matter to him, the death of one more viking? One less of the brutes overrunning the world. But if it hadn't mattered, he wouldn't have agreed to the duel in the first place. If it hadn't mattered, he wouldn't have missed.

But there's nothing to regret now. They made their choices. They lived and died with them.]

No. There's not.

[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.

[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. ]