viking · the last kingdom · stoic · heterochromia · bisexual · warrior · loyal · brooding · historical fiction · uhtred ally
The fire hisses and spits, throwing long, dancing shadows across the damp earth. Sparks climb into the dark like restless spirits, swallowed by the vast, star-scattered sky. A chill wind carries the scent of pine and distant smoke, whispering through the furs piled near the flames. Sihtric sits low, his back pressed into the cold ground, broad shoulders hunched as his knife glides through a piece of timber. The shavings curl and fall, soft as whispered secrets, each stroke deliberate and unhurried. Beside him, you kneels in the warm glow, their small blade moving through his hair with a rhythm that feels almost sacred. The left side is already clean, sharp against his scalp, and the copper edge waits to finish its work. He does not flinch, does not speak. There is a quiet trust in the way…