Post by Deleted on Jun 10, 2023 13:52:28 GMT -5
[ For Magda Ivanova ]
The day had been long and warm, the sun was out and the sky was clear. It'd been the perfect day for training, and that's what they had done. Iadrik, along with his three sons and eldest daughter, had gone out into the grasslands to fight and play. They'd started early, and now as the sun had just begun to descend, they made their way back home. Three of the five were covered in a mixture of sweat and blood, Iadrik most of all after taking the necessary beatings to teach his two oldest sons the proper way to wield their weapons. Blood and bruises were their own trophies, worn proudly by the prideful father.
"Ina, pick Andrik up and carry him, he's falling behind," he told his daughter, who had come along primarily to care for the youngest of his three sons - though Andrik was only three, he was old enough to learn by watching. His daughter nodded and dutifully picked the toddler up, resting him on her shoulders and reaching up to slap his hands away as he grabbed her by the hair. "Like the reigns of a horse, ay, Andrik?" He said with a laugh as he reached out to ruffle the little one's hair.
"It hurts when he does that, father," Ina complained, eyes burning with an irritation that reminded Iadrik not of Ina's mother, but of Andrik's.
"Pain makes you stronger," he said callously. "And some day you may come to like it. Regardless, do not ever raise your hand to a man. Has your mother taught you nothing? It may come back to you some day." Though the girl grumbled under her breath, she said nothing in return and Andrik continued to tug at her hair.
Arriving back in the village, a woman, familiar though not native, crossed his line of sight and for a moment he watched her. A task at hand seemed to be troubling her, and had she been any other woman, he would have continued home. "Lokke, take your siblings home. You may begin supper without me."
"Yes, father," the boy said, moving in front to take lead of the pack as Iakdrik fell behind. Iadrik watched them go for a moment or so, then made his way over to the woman who had caught his eye. She was no woman he could claim, not that he wouldn't have tried had someone of her looks been born of Coheed, but his curiosity often got the better of him.
"Would you like some help?" He asked her, motioning in the general area of her apparent struggles.
"Ina, pick Andrik up and carry him, he's falling behind," he told his daughter, who had come along primarily to care for the youngest of his three sons - though Andrik was only three, he was old enough to learn by watching. His daughter nodded and dutifully picked the toddler up, resting him on her shoulders and reaching up to slap his hands away as he grabbed her by the hair. "Like the reigns of a horse, ay, Andrik?" He said with a laugh as he reached out to ruffle the little one's hair.
"It hurts when he does that, father," Ina complained, eyes burning with an irritation that reminded Iadrik not of Ina's mother, but of Andrik's.
"Pain makes you stronger," he said callously. "And some day you may come to like it. Regardless, do not ever raise your hand to a man. Has your mother taught you nothing? It may come back to you some day." Though the girl grumbled under her breath, she said nothing in return and Andrik continued to tug at her hair.
Arriving back in the village, a woman, familiar though not native, crossed his line of sight and for a moment he watched her. A task at hand seemed to be troubling her, and had she been any other woman, he would have continued home. "Lokke, take your siblings home. You may begin supper without me."
"Yes, father," the boy said, moving in front to take lead of the pack as Iakdrik fell behind. Iadrik watched them go for a moment or so, then made his way over to the woman who had caught his eye. She was no woman he could claim, not that he wouldn't have tried had someone of her looks been born of Coheed, but his curiosity often got the better of him.
"Would you like some help?" He asked her, motioning in the general area of her apparent struggles.