♢ RAGNAR RAGNVARD ♢
interactions; @ unlikely at the moment, as he's heading towards town from out in the middle of nowhere
Golden rays snuck in through the slight spaces between the wood, gold light hitting dark grey hues, cloudy with sleep and glinting with annoyance. A sneer slowly inched across a furry maw, facial expression morphing to match the annoyance in his gaze, the canine grumbling lowly in his throat as he turned his head away from the intrusive sun. In a abandoned hunting cabin, no bigger than a large shed with large logs as walls and a half broken roof, was darkness. The walls and roof might've seen better days, but they did a good job keeping out the sun - but what little sun got through the cracks, shone light upon a large dark figure, curled up in the end of the cabin but despite that, still taking up almost the entirety of the floor room.
Anyone passing by wouldn't have spotted the large wolf at first glance, or maybe even second. Unusually large and almost human in his gaze, the large grey canine gave in to the persistent sun as the cabin lit up more and more. Another grumble rumbled in deep tones in his throat as he uncurled, a large skull lifting from the ground, powerful jaws with rows of white, sharp teeth parting, the ebony fangs reflecting a bit of the morning light. Closing his mouth with a slight snap, it didn't take long for the large wolf to get to his feet and step outside, shaking off dust and dirt from his thick grey fur, dark grey eyes alert and wide awake by now.
Ragnar had, unsurprisingly, chosen to head away from the town and live on the outskirts after he and Michael had arrived to the town. Ragnar had found an abandoned hunting cabin not far down the river from the town, a mere 10 minute run for a wolf and an hours walk for a human. Since then, he'd spent his nights there, or days, if he spent the nights wandering rather than sleep. He preferred to spend the night in his canine form, both for safety, and because of the cold, his thick fur keeping him warm and enhanced senses better able to pick up possible intruders than if he were in his human form. It wasn't unusual for Ragnar to spend more time in his canine form for other reasons though. Ever since the death of his mate some months ago, curtesy of his brother Michael, Ragnar's human side had withdrawn in pain and mourning, leaving more room for his wolf and instincts.
Shifting back into his human form took little time, and Ragnar subconsciously ran his hands through dark locks after he'd stretched, body a bit tense as usual when he'd spend a long time as a wolf. Wearing only a pair of black jeans, he crouched at the edge of the water. He pause for a moment, grey haze staring coldly at the reflection in the running water as thoughts ran to and from his mind in a hurry, some of forgiveness and reconnection, others of hurt and doubt. It wasn't new for the man to feel split by his thoughts and feelings, it was actually almost always a constant battle in his mind, trying to figure out what to do and think and how to proceed. But, as usual, the werewolf shook his head, snapped out of his thoughts and leaned down to scoop up some of the freezing water, bringing it to his face. As the cold water trickled from his strong jaw, hair dripping with droplets and stubble clinging to the water stubbornly, Ragnar wondered, as he did daily, if it was time to return to the pack, to return to Michael. But, as usual, whenever Ragnar got to the point where he thought of facing Michael again, he withdrew, angrily bringing a hand through the water to distort the image as if he could simply use brute force to rid himself of his conflicting thoughts. He stood up quickly, turning his back to the river with a clenched jaw. As much as he missed his brother, he was not yet ready to look his brother in the eyes and not remember that morning, in the motel room, bent over her body as Michael stood in the doorway with a look of guilt and -
Growling, Ragnar sat down on the tree stump outside the cabin almost aggressively, dragging a hand across his face and leaned his elbows against his knees, sighing deeply as he let his head fall into his hands, hair wet and messy. Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he just decide? Leave for once and all, or return and rebuild with Michael.
Plagued by feelings and thoughts and everything in between, Ragnar stared out over the surroundings with furrowed brows for a moment, before getting up, throwing on shoes, a white shirt and a worn thick leather jacket, and heading off alongside the river in the direction of town, mind lost in thought but his senses instinctually still sharp and alert.
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
♢ MICHAEL RAGNVARD ♢
interactions; @ open
Outside, the morning rays were tinting the surroundings a lovely shade of gold, lighting up the town and forest in an almost idyllic manner. Birds were singing, chirping and flying around, wind flowing gently to and from trees, weaving in between each other and carrying leaves and other smaller particles with them. It was almost like nature was slowly blossoming all together, waking up and stretching. It was truly beautiful, peaceful, amazing, and completely, and utterly-
Unnoticed.
Michael was slumped over, asleep in a chair with his back to the window, a half finished mug of coffee on the table next to him, steam lazily rising from the dark liquid and twisting, dancing softly in the quiet room. Quiet, other than Michael's deep breaths, that was. His breathing was a bit inhibited by his chin resting on his chest, straining his airways a bit. Not that the man himself noticed, arms crossed across his chest, legs outstretched, undoubtedly asleep. His dirty blonde hair was still a bit damp, his dark shirt still clinging to his body a bit from the moisture on his body. He'd been out before sunrise on a long run, mind too full with thoughts for him to sleep much longer. Upon returning, he'd taken a shower, grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair to enjoy the beverage and slowly wake up to a new day. Not that he ended up doing much waking up at all.
Michael stirred a bit, grumbling lowly, one arm lifting to rub drowsily at his nose, eyebrows scrunching a bit. You'd think he was waking up... but nope. The large man placed his arm back in a crossed position across his chest, heaving a low sigh before continuing his slumber.
TEMPLATE © BOKEH
