riverviewlogs | Anger is a gift

Entry tags:

Anger is a gift

who: Ivar and you!
what: Fireflies, a chariot, catch-all for April
when: Late April
where: All over the city, the stables
warnings: Possible violence with the red firefly?

These little fireflies are an awful nuisance. Throughout the week, he would get bit by a whole troop of them. Sometimes just one, but if you catch him at the right time, there might be a few overlapping effecting him.

Red
When he gets bit, the obvious question is, "How can anyone even tell?" Ivar's always got a constant simmering state of barely-contained anger below the surface. It tends to come in two forms: the kind that instantly rises to the surface and makes him do stupid things like pick fights with people or attempt to murder them for the most banal of reasons. Or the second kind, which is far more dangerous. He buries it down and it lurks below the surface as he plots, ready to destroy whoever it is that's wronged him. It won't last too long, considering the handle he's already got on his anger, but beware anyone who finds him while he's still got his weapons nearby. Fortunately, this one only lasts about a day before the effects fade and he's back to his usual simmering anger.

Orange
The bug prompting him to be more open and honest hits him pretty hard. Ivar's never been one to hold back precisely what he's thinking, but usually it's veiled by a layer of biting sarcasm. Now, his honesty is much more naked, not really held back by any restraint. He's not going to bite his tongue even if it gets him into deep shit. On the other hand, if anyone has ever wanted to see what lies beneath the tough-as-nails exterior he's constantly projecting, now's the time to make the most of it. This one will last a couple of days before fading.

Violet
This one will affect him the longest, lasting almost the entire week. Ivar's entirely unused to dealing with the softer emotions of life. Vikings aren't big on open affection and love...well, love for him is a complicated emotion as it is. His thoughts during the week seem to be all over the place. He thinks an awful lot of a certain dark-haired necromancer, but oddly enough, he finds others creeping into his thoughts. Several of them are guys and that is definitely surprising. Anyone who catches him during this period of time is going to be in for a surprise. He can be quite caring and affectionate when the mood is exacerbated as much as it is by the fireflies.

Chariot Racing
Ivar takes a trip down to the stables to see his horse. He looked the gelding over, brushing, currying, and digging the bits of muck out of his hooves. Then it was time to do what he'd wanted to for a while. He harnessed the horse to the war chariot from home that had turned up one day. Then he got situated on the seat, slapped the reins down, and took off tearing down the street.

Anyone notice a horse and chariot barreling down at top speeds while the driver cackles like a madman? Yeah, that's Ivar. Best to get out of the way. He's not stopping if he runs you down. But he will stop if he sees anyone he knows, mainly so he can brag about the sweet set of wheels he has now. C'mon, it's ten times cooler than just a simple car.

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Letha had been looking for him, so it's lucky that he happens to pass her a few times on his chariot, and luckier still that each time she manages to keep out of his way. At the very least it makes him easy to track down, and when he comes to drop the horse back off in the stables she's waiting for him. She's also managed to make friends with one of the other horses, at least enough that it's letting her pet it.

Said horse gets abandoned entirely as Ivar's trots in, and she steps over to greet him with a bright smile. "Outrunning the bugs, are you?" At least, racing around at that sort of speed seems like a good strategy for it.

[OOC: Assuming he'll stop. To make things interesting, Ronan will be under the orange firefly effect.]

If there was one thing that attracted Ronan: it was a race. If you asked him, he would have said it only applied to drag racing, but apparently seeing anything with wheels speed down roads worked just as well.

"Nice wheels!" He yelled before he can even see who's driving the chariot.

Low sense of self preservation or not, Ronan made sure to get out of the street before he was road kill.

After tearing around the city at top speed, Ivar is feeling pretty high on life. He's never really experienced the thrill of being able to run under his own power, so this is as close as it gets for him. He shifts around on his seat so that he can look over the side at her, the grey horse lathered and breathing hard.

He's glad to see her, unnaturally so. He feels the urge to get down and run his fingers through her hair. But for the moment, he stays where he is. Ivar rather likes being able to look down on her for once instead of having to look up. "Too late for that. I already got bit."

Ivar heard someone yelling from the side of the road. He came to a careening stop right in front of Ronan. He had a helmet on. Even Vikings knew better than to go speeding without proper headgear. He leaned over the side of the chariot, still seated, grinning like a maniac, as he took off the helmet.

"Well, if it isn't the man with the crazy dreams. You like it?" He asked, preening a little bit. Ivar knew he looked cool, tearing about like a speed demon.

She's always a little hesitant around him, more so after his tactical retreat the last time they'd spoken. But he's smiling at her, and that puts a grin on her face. And honestly? She's pretty happy to be looking up instead of down at him as well. Like this, he looks so strong and capable... and not unlike a god of war, with his chariot and wind-ruffled hair.

"Then I suppose you weren't fast enough." She laughs softly, "Do you need any help untacking your horse?"

Up close, it became apparent that Ronan's skin was peeling from sunburns. That didn't stop him from acting as he usually did. Unable to resist the siren call of anything that could travel fast, he walked closer.

"Are you kidding? It's awesome." He looked at the horse, nodding in approval at that as well. At home, horses weren't his area of expertise, but he'd learned a few things at his work here. "Who'd you bribe to get it?"

Seriously, Ronan wanted in on this.

"I'd like that. I like having you around." Whoops. That wasn't supposed to come out, but it was what he honestly thought. He covers the moment by shifting himself around, swinging one of his legs over the side of his seat so that he can disembark from the chariot. He sits down on the back of the chariot and then slides off. His wheelchair is only a few feet away and he crawls over to it, settling himself in.

He wheels himself around to the front and begins to unharness the gelding from the chariot. He gave him a good workout and the horse is suitably sweaty. Ivar keeps stealing not-so-subtle glances at Letha while he works. His feelings for her have definitely become clearer over the past couple of days. Being apart from her had given him a chance to sort things out in his head. He definitely finds himself liking her. She's attractive, and aside from the moments where she does something incredibly stupid, she understands him in a way other people here don't.

"It just came through the portal one day." Ivar wasn't sure how that worked, but he'd been rather excited when he was informed that it had arrived. "I ride it into battle when I'm at home." And a Viking warrior charging at someone from a chariot, screaming out battle cries and wielding an axe, was a terrifying sight indeed.

"Want a ride?" Ivar could recognize someone else who could appreciate things that go fast and he was feeling generous. Besides, there was something about Ronan, something that Ivar couldn't quite sort out in his mind.

I like having you around. She nearly trips over herself as she goes to help him, trying her best not to giggle like a little girl and... only succeeding in stifling it a bit. At least with the task of unhitching the horse she has some distraction, but... every once in a while she'll glance at him in turn, and their eyes will meet, and her face will turn a bit redder.

"Do you like what you're seeing?" She manages to tease after a few such looks, although her tone betrays that she's honestly curious. As the words leave her mouth she's already sure his answer will affect her mood for the foreseeable future and that's... a little terrifying.

Ivar can't tell if she's laughing at him, which would enrage him, or something in her own head, which would be kind of endearing. The blush makes him decide it's the latter. He hands her a comb to get the snarls out of the horse's mane and tail.

He busies himself with a hoof pick, seeing to the gelding's hooves. Ivar's got a natural talent for getting the horse to do what he wants, including lifting up his feet when the animal would otherwise be stubborn and refuse. He staunchly refuses to so much as look at Letha as he mumbles out an answer. "I am. A lot." Oh, he's going to kill every single one of those little bugs if it's the last thing he does.

She'd started on the horse's mane by the time he spoke - very careful to treat it as gently as she would her own hair - when she has to stop short as Ivar's words make her fingers tremble. She has to grip the comb just to stop it from falling out of her hand, and this time has to press her hand to her lips for a moment to stop herself from letting out a nervous giggle.

Well, Letha is nothing if not a pusher of luck. "Then why did you run away, the last time we spoke? You could have kissed me... and I would have liked it." She's honest enough not to say 'I would let you' - but not quite honest enough to admit she hopes for it any time he comes close enough. As if there's any doubt between them now of her feelings.

"Tch," he scoffed since he felt the answer was obvious-- to him, anyway. He quickly dropped the mocking tone when he gave his actual response. "Hell yeah. If you hadn't offered, I would have asked."

He stepped closer, waiting for Ivar to make room, which had better happen or Ronan would have second thoughts about beating up a crippled guy. He wouldn't but still. It'd cross his mind.

"This is from your home?" Ronan was, first, foremost, and forever impressed first by the actual item itself, but he was secondly curious about how it got here.

He wanted his own wheels, damn it.

The horse idly stamps one of his front hooves as Letha combs his tail and Ivar cleans the muck out of his left hoof. He wants to remain sullen and silent as he usually does when faced with something he doesn't want to talk about. But the words spill out of him unbidden.

"It may have escaped your attention, Letha, but women don't usually look on me as an object of interest. I wasn't sure what to make of how you felt towards me. Or of how I felt towards you." He had to retreat and figure things out for himself. What he'd discovered was that he liked Letha, probably just as much as she liked him.

As Ronan got into the vehicle, he'd notice that where most people would simply be standing in the chariot, there was a custom-built seat for Ivar to sit down on. It puts him at the perfect level to still be able to control the horse. He shifted over so that Ronan would have room to sit, but to keep from flying off, he'd have to hold onto Ivar.

The horse stamped the ground impatiently. Garth wasn't used to being still for too long. The gelding was bred for battlegrounds full of screaming men and carnage going on around him. "It was built by a friend. Too hard trying to go into battle crawling around on the ground."

She opens her mouth to mutter some knee-jerk reaction, before just huffing quietly and going back to combing the horse's hair as she actually thinks her answer out. She's been starting to think before she speaks - people should be proud of her for that.

"Well, I can think of at least ten very good reasons why my family would disapprove of you. A few of them I might even agree with. But they aren't here, and those reasons don't particularly matter." She doesn't look up from her work, partly because she knows if she looks at him she'll lose her nerve, "And you are the most handsome man I've ever met. You're brave and smart and... I feel safe with you near. If I lost everything I have here but kept you, I'd be happy."

Ronan generally wasn't the touchy feely sort but he'd make an exception to ensure he kept his body intact. He slid down next to Ivar and slung his arm around him, not bothering to ask permission first.

"Good call. No one would ever surrender to Ivar the Buster of Kneecaps." Ronan's brow furrowed for a moment. Something about that title was familiar but off, like he should remember something. He shrugged it off a moment later. Latin and Greek were his field and his friend Gansey had covered most other history topics.

He gave Ivar's shoulder a light slap before holding him again. "Let's hear your war cry."

He's utterly floored by what he's hearing. No one has ever expressed such sentiments to him before. Always, he's been an object of mockery at worst and pity at best. Ivar had given up a long time ago on hoping that a woman could ever feel the same way about him in that same way that other men got to experience.

He doesn't say anything at first. There's vulnerability in his gaze, something he doesn't ever let people see, too afraid of getting hurt if anyone saw that side of him. He wheels himself over to Letha's side and takes her small, gentle hand in his own larger, callused ones. The honesty bug doesn't seem so bad right now, loosening up emotions he wouldn't otherwise dare express. "I care about you a great deal, Letha. I've never had that with a woman before. You're beautiful and caring and even when you're doing stupid, reckless things, I still want to be near you." He reaches up a hand and rests it against her cheek.

Ivar's brain nearly short-circuited when Ronan touched him. He wasn't sure what was more surprising, the way he was feeling, or the fact he was feeling it about another man. Up until now, he'd experienced this primarily when it comes to women. But as these damn bugs had been proving, there might have been more going on in his head then he initially had assumed about himself.

But that was enough being inside his own head. Ivar never liked to stay there for too long. He started over-analyzing everything. It was a good trait to have when planning out battles and reading opponents. Not so good the rest of the time. He grinned fiercely and slapped the horse's reins, yelling out a traditional Viking war chant. "Skeggǫld! Skálmǫld! Skildir ro Klofnir!" Then he took off at top speeds.

The horse comb drops from her hand easily, almost shocked by his touch after such open and soft sentiments on both their parts. Her cheeks are red as she leans against the hand on her face, sort of blown away by the fact that her affections are fully reciprocated, in a way she'd never dreamed of back home.

After a moment she leans down, cupping her free hand over Ivar's cheek in turn. A small hesitation more, and she presses her forehead gently against his in that same peaceful, if uncomfortable, gesture he'd shown her before.

"When are you going to kiss me, then?" She teases gently, a bubbly little giggle making it through her words.

Edited 2017-05-03 10:31 (UTC)

Ronan laughed. The air carried it away as the horse barreled off. Without any hair to blow back, what Ronan noticed instead was the force of the wind itself, not enough to withstand a god damn chariot.

He hadn't done anything like this since he got here.

"Fucking amazing!" he yelled. Oblivious to having provoked any feelings or sensations in his companion, Ronan leaned into Ivar. "What does that mean?"

It feels so natural to show his affection through physical means, though he's never even thought about it before. He leans into the forehead touch for a moment, eyes closing as he wills himself not to do something stupid again like pull away. It's hard to override a lifetime of instincts that have told him every woman will never see him as anything but an object of pity. When she prompts him to kiss her, he opens up his eyes.

Then he kisses her. It's not a very experienced kiss. He's never had time to practice with women like his brothers did and watching them could only tell him so much. But there's affection and passion behind it, which helps make it all the sweeter as he rests one hand on the back of her neck and one on her shoulder.

She feels sparks and fireworks the moment their lips touch. And in all fairness... she doesn't need the experience, because she could count the amount of kisses she's gotten on her fingers. The passion alone, the fact that he is holding her down and kissing her, the feeling of his strong hands and the scent that is so very uniquely Ivar... That's all she needs.

Her fingers run through his hair in turn, as she pulls away just to kiss him again and again, giggles bubbling out of her in between each one. She could almost cry, after all this tension and confusion finally being validated. And... maybe her eyes are watering, just a bit.

Ivar glanced back at Ronan, just for a quick moment. If he didn't focus on the road, they'd crash hard, and that would end their good time real quick. "Sword time! Axe time! Shields are splintered!" Just the sort of thing to inspire a group of vicious Vikings before they attacked the enemy on the battlefield. He was glad to hear his friend laughing. He didn't seem like the sort to do it often.

They came up on a tight curve. "Hold on!" Ivar leaned to the left as the chariot went around the turn to the right.

If it weren't for the fact that Letha tends to giggle at just about anything, he wouldn't be sure she was actually enjoying the experience. But she seems to be getting as much out of it as he does, and when their lips meet again, he has enough courage to deepen it into one of those kisses that were said to make women go weak at the knees if they were done right.

When he feels a little bit of dampness on his face, he opens up his eyes and pulls back a little. "Hey. What's this now?" He reaches up and wipes away the tear brimming at the edge of one eye. Had he done something wrong? He didn't think so, but as proven by his interactions with Letha up until now, women were a complete enigma to him.

She's a bit dizzy as she stands up straight, pulling out of his reach to wipe her face and try to pull herself together. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, just give me a moment-..." Her voice cracks, but only a few tears fall before she manages an honest effort to pull herself together.

An effort that sacrifices her physical balance, and she ends up neatly slipping down to kneel in front of him. Lucky that the stable floors are clean, but she's barely noticing her surroundings. What she is noticing is that she's the perfect height to look up at Ivar, maybe place her hands on his lap if he'll let her.

"I just... I didn't expect you to care for me in return. I was so afraid of being left pining after you, and..." Another nervous giggle escapes her, as she makes another failed attempt to dry her eyes and calm her voice. "I'm sorry, I'm making a fool of myself. Again."

Edited 2017-05-04 02:27 (UTC)

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Anger is a gift

orange/violet nyehehe

Chariot racing

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