ragnarsson | IC Inbox

It begins as a premonition. Just the feeling that someone's watching him as he wheels around town. Every time he turns to look, there's nothing there... but maybe every once in a while he'll catch a glimpse of dark hair or ribbons catching in the wind. Maybe he'll hear a giggle... right behind him.

Of course, Letha doesn't have the patience to keep out of his sight for very long. But she does seem to be playing a game of walking just behind his wheelchair, and running around to keep behind him each time he tries to turn the chair around. Ironically a disadvantage he only has because he isn't crawling.

Finally she's had her fun, and she pops up beside him to lean against the arm of the chair. She doesn't recognize him at all, but he looks like a storybook hero, and her eyes are shining with excitement. And he will see a little girl with a bright red ribbon in her curly black hair, dressed in the finest and gaudiest black dress that money can buy, green ribbons and silver trims lacing throughout it. And despite her rich appearance, her dress and knees have dirt and scuffs from running around and causing trouble.

"Why does your chair have wheels, mister?"

It seems, no matter when in her life she met Ivar, her first impression was doomed to be an insensitive comment about his condition.

Ivar's got no patience with kids. Maybe if he hadn't been at the tail end of his brothers, he'd be more used to the runts, but unlike Ubbe and the rest, he's never had to contend with younger siblings. So he's really not amused by the glimpses he keeps catching of a little girl with clearly nothing better to do with her time than follow after someone who wants nothing to do with her.

When she finally pops up next to him, he stops moving. Where are her parents so he can properly chew someone out about letting their child bother someone who just wants to be left alone? Well, it looks like she's a free-range child, so he's on his own. He's in the wheelchair that Ronan made for him, which means black and it's covered in spikes, looking quite like he's going to impale anyone who gets too close.

His voice is completely deadpan and dry with sarcasm as he answers. "They're for running over the toes of cheeky little girls who ask stupid questions."

"Well then, if I see any I'll warn them."

She says this with a cheeky grin, fully aware of what he meant and simply ignoring it. Her curiosity is far more important than his comfort, as far as she's concerned.

"Are you very lazy? Or do your legs not work? Have you hurt anyone with it before? Wouldn't it look better with skulls on the wheels? Then it would truly be a threat. Oh! Are you a guard? Or are you simply very rude? My brother says it's very prudent for guards to be rude. But most of my family are rude without needing to be. You seem like a guard, though."

It seems she'll be happy to keep rattling off questions and unimportant facts until he stops her.

"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?" Ivar groans. But apparently she doesn't as the nuisance begins to rattle off a list of questions a mile long. He waits for her to run out of breath so that he can get a word in edgewise. And waits. And finally, Letha stop for the briefest moment. What a nosy, impudent little child.

"My legs don't work, and if you ask any other questions about them, I really will run your feet over," he snaps out, voice brittle with anger. "And I'm a Perimeter Guardsman, so I can act however the hell I want, because I'm what's keeping your idiot self safe from the monsters that want to eat you."

The threat doesn't seem to bother her at all; if anything, it seems she's used to it and even giggles at the notion. But when he mentions that he's a guardsman, her eyes light up even more and she lets out a very familiar giggle of excitement.

"You are a guard! I'm going to be one when I grow up - my brother is one of the guards who keeps our town safe back home, and once I'm twelve I can join him." If it's even possible, she seems to get even more excited and less aware of Ivar's annoyance with the opportunity to brag. "Can I come watch you work? My brother never lets me, he says I can't until I can summon a risen to keep me safe, but I'm just fine with a sword and I can handle myself, I really can."

It seems about this point that she finally realizes she's skipped past the most important part of meeting new people. "What's your name, anyway?"

Is it wrong that he's seriously considering threatening a child with a knife? Probably. But by all the gods, she is annoying the shit out of him. How can someone this small manage to antagonize him this much so quickly?

"That's nice." Again with the dry sarcasm. He could care less what this child thinks or wants. He can't imagine she'd be much good at swinging a sword. She's a tiny little thing and that dress looks like it weighs about as much as she does. He folds his arms at her next question. "No, you can't. I'm not going to let you hang around where a monster could eat you." On second thought, maybe that would be a good idea to get rid of her...no, no, he'd get in a lot of trouble if he let a monster kill a small eight year old child.

He sits up a little straighter in his chair. "Ivar Ragnarsson, but it's Ivar The Boneless to you, pipsqueak."

"I'm Letha - Letha Isidora Regis." From how quickly she speaks, it's almost as if she only asked so she can introduce herself. And boy, is she proud of her name, it is a mark of absolutely perfect breeding and total domination over every inch of the world she's seen before she came to Riverview. Everything about her seems to puff up like a bird displaying its feathers as she speaks.

"You don't seem boneless, you'd be floppy if you were. You seem more like a... Ivar the Angry Man In A Spiky Chair. But that doesn't sound very heroic, does it? Maybe just Ivar the Angry. Or Ivar the Mad, but you don't seem crazy at all." She seems to have sound a new tangent to wander off on.

That name seems to echo in his mind for a second like he's heard it somewhere else before. There's some meaning attached to it. But the memories that came before in this place have all but faded away, leaving him only with what he knows now.

He listens to her prattle on and his eyes flash dangerously when she calls him crazy. Oh how he hates when people call him that. Even if it's the truth, he doesn't want to dwell on how unstable he is. If Ivar had been himself, he would have already been threatening the girl with a knife. But since he has more patience currently, he's at least trying to control his temper. "If you really want to see me angry, just keep opening up your mouth. See what happens."

She's starting to get the sense that she might be in some danger... but Letha does not care at all about danger. It will be a few years before she learns that fear and suffering will be present in her life too, not just everyone around her.

"I bet I could take you on if you got angry." She responds without missing a beat, pulling out her wooden training sword from the belt of her dress both to display proudly and to have ready if he really does try to hurt her. It's not sharp and his ax could easily smash through it, but it looks heavy enough to give a decent bruise. "You can't walk, so you can't be a very good fighter."

Well.. she could definitely do with some humbling.

Oh, that's it. She just insulted his ability not to walk. He doesn't care if this little girl is half his age, he is going to teach her a lesson in manners. Despite his lack of mobility, Ivar can still be quite fast in certain areas when he needed to be. He bats away the sword with one hand, and with the other, quick as a flash, he's got Letha by the back of her dress, actually lifting her up off the ground so that her toes barely skim the sidewalk.

He pulls out a knife with his other hand, and while he's got enough restraint not to actually hold it up to her skin, he points it at her like he means business. "I've had just about enough of you and your nonsense. Now, I want an apology for all those nasty little things you said, or I'm going to start carving runes into your skin." He won't. Probably. Hurting a child would be a new low even for the teenage Viking.

She was ready to fight when he reached a hand toward her, but it's undeniable that he's much stronger than her. The sword stings her hands a bit as it's knocked to the ground, and she lets out a little indignant squeak as he picks her up and points the knife at her.

"Let me go!" She whines in protest, wiggling to try and get a grip on the ground below her. "You can't hurt me, I'm little and I'm a noble, it's against the laws!"

Not that she knows what laws, but she's pretty sure it's against something. Still, Letha fears nothing, not even an angry man with a knife. There is no sign of fear in her, only indignation and anger.

He pulls Letha closer towards him, icy blue eyes burning into her's. Oh, he's going to put the fear of the gods into this bratty child before he's done with her. "I'm still not hearing an apology."

He shakes her back and forth like a little ragdoll until her teeth are chattering in her head. Should he feel bad about such rough treatment with a child? Someone with more empathy would, but Ivar's been annoyed enough by the little brat to take great pleasure in seeing her uncomfortable.

"Now, are you going to say you're sorry?"

As he starts to shake her, Letha starts screaming at the top of her lungs. It's not from fear; it's from a mix of shock and anger, and even as her skull feels like it's rattling in her head she just shrieks and struggles.

Finally he gives her another chance to speak and she just continues to wiggle, now trying to reach behind her to try and grab his hand. "Stop! You're hurting me! Let me down so I can hit you back!"

It's unfair to be picked up like this, and she hates it. She's sure she could beat him if he just went easy on her like most adults did.

Man, that is a horrendous noise. It's a good thing there's no one around to hear it or Ivar would be in a lot of trouble. It never looks good when a grown man is manhandling a little girl. Even if this one did deserve everything that was coming to her.

"Why would I do that, you little brat?" Nope, he's not letting go of her anytime soon. Instead, he holds up the knife to one of her green eyes, the tip only a few inches away. "I think maybe I'll take one of them out. You only need one to see." He's not going to. Ivar's not that cruel.

Now, that gets her attention. She nearly goes crosseyed trying to look at the point of the knife, and lets out a little squeak of shock. No, she doesn't want to lose her eyes. Death she can handle, but mutilation is far from okay.

"No! No no no! Let me go!" She's in tears now, not struggling but instead just trying to shrink away from him despite being stuck where she is.

Alright, a child terrified out of her mind and crying is good enough for Ivar as far as an apology goes. He sets her back down on the ground and flexes his hand a few times. It's not easy holding someone up for any length of time, even if they are a tiny eight year old.

"You need to learn to have respect for your elders and betters. See that you remember that." She probably won't take the lesson to heart, but he's proved his point.

If he thought for even a moment that teaching Letha Regis anything was going to be as easy as scaring her half to death... well. The moment she's able to touch the ground she darts a few feet away, and sticks her tongue out to blow a raspberry at him.

"You're not my better, you're just old and dumb!"

And with that, the charming little girl has dashed away before she has to suffer away retaliation.

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action; this turned out longer than expected

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