ragnarsson | IC Inbox

[It's a bit past sundown when Letha gets back from her adventures in necromancy... and dragons. The dragons were a little unexpected. Still, ever since she got to the commune all she could think of was to tell Ivar about what she'd been up to, and that couldn't wait until morning. She's pretty sure she won't get to sleep with all this new and exciting information threatening to burst out of her.

The lights are off when she sneaks onto the fifth floor, so he won't be able to see the condition she's in just yet, but seeing as they've slept together (technically) she feels very little shame about crawling onto his bed and poking his chest to wake him up.]

Iiiiivar... Ivar. Psst. Are you sleeping? [At least she's being quiet, for his roommates' sake.]

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.

[It's been a while since the last time they spoke, when Ivar had crept in to tell him in broken hearted words about becoming a single parent. He has to wonder if the teenager has thought any more about what Bucky told him about revenge and war, but if he hasn't-- well, somehow it doesn't matter for now.

He finds that he's concerned, keeps thinking about how Ivar might be coping on his own, and so he eventually slips into town and skulks around until he spots the familiar chair in the distance, falling into step beside him as if this is nothing unusual.]

Hey.

[He looks so awkward, he's not used to being the one who initiates the contact.]

[Rey knows she has a training session with Ivar, and as much as she doesn't want to cancel it, she has to. She needs to go to the library, and with her friends arriving, she needs to do some research.

So she's calling him now.]

Hello, it's Rey. I know we have training today, but could we do it on another day? Things just came up.

[And then the voice function turns into full on video with Rey holding the device to show her thick brown hair down. It's not in its usual style, and it actually goes past her shoulders a bit. It's also clear that she hasn't slept well.]

I'm really sorry about this.

Ivar your dad just told me we're gonna go drinking together.

we need to talk.

[He sends an address to a local bar, somewhere on the seedy end of the city.]

bring some money, a piece of paper and something to write with.

Ivar. [Ragnar still wasn't used to using the phones, but he was improving slightly. The video, however, wasn't that helpful, horribly lit and poorly framed... on his chest. Good to see he was still wearing the same tunic and didn't look completely filthy, right??] Ivar, I want to ask you something.

A gift is left for Ivar. It's wrapped in a deep red with a bow, the tag signed simply as 'S♥outh'. In the box he'll find a couple throwing axes, a sketch of him at a piano, a box of candy- and a coupon for free piano lessons in town. Maybe not the best gift ever, but she hopes he likes it.

What's your deal? You seem to have a lot of rage.

(Is it merited, she wonders. Considering their circumstances, Claire can't help fearing she is missing something. Being fully human in this world isn't exactly comfortable.)

Do you have a free moment? Or... rather, a free hour or two?

I've been meaning to ask you to spar with me, and I thought it was a good day for it.

You and I need to speak. Join me for a drink.

[Simple. Brief. And to the point.]

[ Athelstan had spent quite a bit of time searching out the right materials for the gift he wanted to give Ivar. He'd seen the way the other had taken an interest in his sketch of Aslaug before and since then he'd had the idea to do this. Once he discovers the right materials that he feels would fit Aslaug and practices in the style long enough that he's satisfied with his work...he began on a painting of Aslaug. She is young and beautiful in it, of course.

There's no signature, the habits of his time in the monastery remaining but it's likely clear who the gift is from. ]

We..we should talk. [Gyda's voice sounds stiff, like she's trying to work more nerve then she has in the first place.

[She has those she knows from home, both directly and obliquely, and then there are the few she considers friends here. Ivar is one of the latter, and with the severity of the plague hitting gods and super soldiers alike, Rogue finds herself calling him first to check in on the younger man.

He should know her well enough that if he doesn't pick up, she might just come find him.]

[ It had occurred to him that Ivar might not be able to read the invitation- but whatever, he'd figure out it's meaning in the next week or so when he and Otabek made the more formal announcement for it. So he shoves the letter into the mail slot, or, barring a mail slot, leaves it tucked carefully into the frame of the door so it can be found. Yuri, the shit head that he was- banged on the door, rang the doorbell aggressively- and then ran for it, cackling the entire way down the street.

The envelope was matte black with a raised, glossy black leopard print texture imprinted on it that caught when shifted in the light, and on the front was Ivar's name embossed in gold. Within the envelope was a single piece of heavy glossy cardstock; the photos Yuri and Otabek had chosen on one side, and on the other, the details of their wedding. In places there was more of the raised golden embellishments. So extra. ]

The Front and the back.

action;

action; this turned out longer than expected

late september; action;

voice: scavenger.rey

@just.marco; text

@dodger//text

video