It's a small flaw, because other women can and do tend to be up to things. But in this case, with Freya at least, he has nothing to worry about. Her motives are to see him live a long, prosperous life, and she's focused on his needs. There's no real scheming to her in this.
She knows the importance, to die in battle, honorably and after a long, hard fight of his best. She stretches just a little so her hand can rest briefly against his cheek at the question and she nods though her head is tilted to look up at him. "I promise, you will still have an honorable death, sword in hand, in battle. I will not interfere when it is your time." There's a serious look in her eyes, she means it.
Shifting her weight, she moves in time with him. There's no pull or push to get him to move or start walking, she merely counters his moves so she stays constantly at his side, fluid and almost like a dance. Freya wants to see him happy, and when he does find himself a women to settle down with, she will bless his wife's belly with as many children as he wishes. As for who, she might later send a few women down his path, love is also her domain, after all.
Her touch never waivers and it's still warm where it rests on his skin, still offering him support to see him safely home. She's silent as she walks by his side, chosen to stay unseen to those in the camp, which would be why none question her with him. Most don't seem to bother him much either as he takes what he wants of the food and moves to the river, though with how he looks most assume the battle is over enough and the rest of the party will be back. Which is true enough. If she glances over her shoulder she can see the rest finishing the raid, packing up their spoils to come back.
When they're at the edge of the river she'll shift to sit down in the grass as her head tilts to watch him unfasten his belts. There's the softest quirk of her lips when he stops and her brow arches ever so slightly. "Is there something wrong, Rollo?" She doesn't find it disrespectful in the slightest, if her tone and question is any indication. He is a strong, handsome man, and truthfully, she'll enjoy the view as he washes himself off. "Did you need help?" Now she may just be teasing, though the challenge in the air may be to take her up on her offer.
Frankly, even if she was plotting something, something against another god using him as a pawn, is there anything he can do about it? They can change their fates, that's true enough but she has shown him nothing but kindness. Even if all this does upset Odin, Rollo can remember a half-dozen tales where the goddesses have outsmarted and outmanoeuvred their menfolk. If he is to be part of it, it is not such a terrible way to be remembered: as a champion of Lady Freya.
He can't resist a smile at the promise, or the touch to his cheek. He could get used to that, if it did not require his near death in battle each time. But the promise, that is a good one, one he accepts. Battle may not be her real focus, but there are plenty of people who invoke her before a fight, and as she is here, when Odin is not, he is sure he can trust her. He will not die in a bed too old to fight, he will not die before the fate she has in mind for him is seen through. What more can a man ask for, "Thank you, my Lady."
At the river, it is not so much a requirement for help: her healing as done everything to banish the pain, the scar, everything but wash the mix of his own blood and that of other's from his skin. Neither is he ashamed to be naked, although never in the known presence of a goddess. He's bathed with Lagertha, although she remained mostly clothed, as was fitting for the wife of his brother, and Siggy... well. That was different.
"Any more than you have provided or promised already? No." He laughs, and then drops the belts close to where she sits, need the skin and the bread. Then his shoes are kicked off, and the trousers pulled off, and he sinks gratefully into the water. "I was only going to invite you to join me."
Truly there would not be much he could do, no. When the gods play against each other, men stand very little chance save to accept the ride they are on and continue moving as they are willed to. As for outsmarting and out maneuvering the menfolk, well, Freya would merely say that's because sometimes men think far too much with their ax and less with their brain unless given a reason to. She is glad, though, that Rollo is more than willing to be remembered as her champion. It delights her.
She would not do that to someone for whom battle is so important. Battles are important, as is the honor that comes with them. He will carry honor for surviving this battle, along with the spoils that it will bring that he'll share in. And there will be many more. And while her hand may itch to save him that last time, she's strong willed enough to let it see true and give him the death he needs. Besides, Freya can walk between halls to see him no matter where he decides to be for eternity.
As his trousers are left in the grass next to her, Freya's head tilts to watch him with a smile. Bright eyes enjoy the sight of him as the water slowly hides him from view. He has every right to be proud, the words aren't said aloud but they may show in her eyes. And Freya is neither Lagertha or Siggy. She pushes up from the grass with a soft hum at the invitation. "I'd reconsider that when you have that one spot just mid back that you won't be able to reach," she teases softly.
Quick work is made of the leather tunic and it's strings and straps before it's falling into the grass next to his trousers. Soon enough her own trousers and boots join everything and she slips slowly into the water with him. It's slow enough to let him get a long look at her bare should he want to, done on purpose to let him. "But I would like to join you, yes," she finishes as she stills her feet near him. Her hand skims the surface of the water between them idly, enjoying water as it laps at skin. "It's not everyday that someone invites me to join." Most don't think to. While the gods may travel as they wish, and do as they wish, it's nice to be invited instead of just assumed they'll do things if they grant favor. If one were to think about it, they're prayed to for blessings, made offerings to appease those blessings or their wrath, but fair few invite in such a simple manner.
Rollo isn't ashamed of himself, nor would he be concerned if this woman was simply that, a woman. While he should be respectful, while he knows that according to all the stories, the goddess of love is married, she does seem to be putting on a show. And as she removes her clothes, he watches, letting the flow of the river wash against him, slowly moving into slightly deeper water. Why should he look away, after all, when so few mortal men have ever been allowed to see such beauty? She is almost unimaginably so: her skin has a golden glow, as if a thousand stars shine beneath, her limbs are elegant and graceful, and everything about her form seems to him perfect.
As she comes to the edge of the water, bare feet slipping beneath the mirrored surface, he can not help but come towards her, rational thought lost somewhat in the spell of her beauty and his growing enchantment. She almost certainly does not mean to have this impact, but it is her nature to do so, and it is in his nature to desire, especially what he can not or should not have.
But he can not help himself, and as she comes closer he reaches out to touch the hand skimming the surface of the water. He could say something about the offer to wash his back, make a joke out of her needing an invitation, but all of that seems unnecessary when he stands here with her, with the water swirling around them and distantly, around the curve in the river, the noise of celebration from the camp as the victorious Norsemen return. There doesn't seem to be any need to speak at all, to say anything, when she is so close now he can lean in and press his lips to hers.
She might strike him down now. She could, he supposes, stop his heart or have the water tug him away and drown him, but he doesn't think she will. Even if she does, it would be worth it, to die kissing the goddess of love and beauty.
She may be married, but neither Odin or Freya consign themselves to an eternity of jealousy. Especially not when love, desire, and fertility are her domain. She has an understanding with her husband, and both are free to bed mortals as they wish. Other gods, it tends to get more complicated sometimes and discussions need to be had on limits and things because they have such a longer life. But her interest in Rollo won't draw any anger from another god toward him. Of that, she can promise.
The way he watches her, moves toward her as if enchanted, it pushes her heart to beat a little faster. She isn't doing anything special, other than being a goddess in her own right, but she can't help but enjoy the effect on him all the same. That raw edge in his eyes, in the way he moves, it's as powerful as her natural beauty. She was most definitely not lying when she had told him he was a handsome, powerful man and she can see all that power now.
There's no smiting, no water tugging him under. Her fingers thread through his on the hand that's touching the water's surface as she pushes up on her toes a little to meet him for that kiss as her free hand slides over his cheek gently before it tugs his beard to lower him a little. He is taller than her, and something in her is hoping he'll like that tug to let her reach him just a tad easier.
She doesn't even care that there's a hint of copper on his lips, most likely someone else's blood that had sprayed against him at the time of their death, she stretches as she can some to deepen the kiss. They don't need words right now, and the celebration will be going on most of the night so it's not like he's needed at the moment. All the noise, coupled with the soft churn of the river does is add a soft background to everything they're doing.
Rollo has a couple choices - bend lower for her or lift her up to give her better access. She'll be happy with either, truthfully.
This wasn't her original plan when she'd come to heal him, ending up in a river, bare with him. But she can't say she's in anyway disapproving of how their time is going right now either.
The insistent tug at his beard sends a little shiver through him. Most women, even women who have spent time as shield maidens, aren't rough with him. They tend to go soft and pliant, but he likes this. He likes the edge of fierceness in her, the way she doesn't care for the blood still staining his face, the fact she presses herself up to him for more of that kiss. It's impossible to forget she's a goddess, and simply fall into the moment with possibly the most beautiful woman he's ever seen: there are too many little reminders that set her out as different.
That does not stop his arms from coiling around her, his hands smoothing down her sides and then around her back, lifting her so that he no longer has to bend. He isn't sure what he expected holding a god like this to feel like, but again, nothing strikes him down. Her divinity does not make it difficult to hold her or his arms ache, and that's welcome. If only because holding her against him like this brings her flush against him, her breasts against his chest and her hips aligned with him.
Rollo should know better. She's a goddess, one who has offered him more favour than any other person in his life, she has saved him from death to ensure he has a chance to fulfil the destiny she has told him about. He should be more respectful. He should not kiss her like this, he should not feel his body throb hungrily for her. Nor should he so desperately enjoy this, the way her nails catch against his skin, the power of her so much stronger than his own. But he does like it, all of it.
And would it be so bad, part of him thinks, to be remembered in legend as one of Freya's mortal lovers?
She’s not sure why women aren’t rough with him, he’s a strong, strapping man and she’s well aware that he can take it. Freya likes him this way, rough and raw, and she’s happy to show that like as well. In a lot of ways, she’ll always be a goddess, but in some ways she’s very much just a woman at the same time. There are wants and desires just like everyone else, and the feel of him against her mouth, against her body, fans those desires deep inside her.
Legs slide along his hips as he lifts her up, settling around his skin to help hold herself up too. Though she has a feeling he could hold her that way for a while. One hand threads through his hair, nails sharp against skin without breaking it along his scalp as she gives a happy sound into the kiss even as she deepens it. There’s the softest tug of teeth against his lower lip, almost a question of if he wants a little hungrier, a little rougher than the current kiss they have. In this way, she is a goddess and he doesn’t have to be careful with her, she’d almost prefer if he wasn’t.
In some ways, Freya would argue that he’s showing her as much respect as he can. To know that his body throbs with hunger for her, that he finds her pleasurable even from just being flushed against each other and tangled in a kiss. This is everything she watches over, but narrowed down to just their pleasure. If he wants to stop, she will, but this far into the kiss, wrapped around him as she is, she’s hoping that he won’t want to stop, that he wants to continue, to see this through. There would be no hard feelings should he want to stop, no resentment.
Warrior, Lover, Favored by the Gods. Rollo probably couldn’t ask for more. Could he?
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timeasmymeasure
Thanks! I'm hoping to. I have nearly nothing on my schedule today
Date: 2018-12-31 03:38 pm (UTC)She knows the importance, to die in battle, honorably and after a long, hard fight of his best. She stretches just a little so her hand can rest briefly against his cheek at the question and she nods though her head is tilted to look up at him. "I promise, you will still have an honorable death, sword in hand, in battle. I will not interfere when it is your time." There's a serious look in her eyes, she means it.
Shifting her weight, she moves in time with him. There's no pull or push to get him to move or start walking, she merely counters his moves so she stays constantly at his side, fluid and almost like a dance. Freya wants to see him happy, and when he does find himself a women to settle down with, she will bless his wife's belly with as many children as he wishes. As for who, she might later send a few women down his path, love is also her domain, after all.
Her touch never waivers and it's still warm where it rests on his skin, still offering him support to see him safely home. She's silent as she walks by his side, chosen to stay unseen to those in the camp, which would be why none question her with him. Most don't seem to bother him much either as he takes what he wants of the food and moves to the river, though with how he looks most assume the battle is over enough and the rest of the party will be back. Which is true enough. If she glances over her shoulder she can see the rest finishing the raid, packing up their spoils to come back.
When they're at the edge of the river she'll shift to sit down in the grass as her head tilts to watch him unfasten his belts. There's the softest quirk of her lips when he stops and her brow arches ever so slightly. "Is there something wrong, Rollo?" She doesn't find it disrespectful in the slightest, if her tone and question is any indication. He is a strong, handsome man, and truthfully, she'll enjoy the view as he washes himself off. "Did you need help?" Now she may just be teasing, though the challenge in the air may be to take her up on her offer.
I think we switched, yesterday was a wild ride I couldn't get off
Date: 2019-01-01 09:39 am (UTC)He can't resist a smile at the promise, or the touch to his cheek. He could get used to that, if it did not require his near death in battle each time. But the promise, that is a good one, one he accepts. Battle may not be her real focus, but there are plenty of people who invoke her before a fight, and as she is here, when Odin is not, he is sure he can trust her. He will not die in a bed too old to fight, he will not die before the fate she has in mind for him is seen through. What more can a man ask for, "Thank you, my Lady."
At the river, it is not so much a requirement for help: her healing as done everything to banish the pain, the scar, everything but wash the mix of his own blood and that of other's from his skin. Neither is he ashamed to be naked, although never in the known presence of a goddess. He's bathed with Lagertha, although she remained mostly clothed, as was fitting for the wife of his brother, and Siggy... well. That was different.
"Any more than you have provided or promised already? No." He laughs, and then drops the belts close to where she sits, need the skin and the bread. Then his shoes are kicked off, and the trousers pulled off, and he sinks gratefully into the water. "I was only going to invite you to join me."
ooof, I hope today goes much better for you! And Happy New Year!
Date: 2019-01-01 02:02 pm (UTC)She would not do that to someone for whom battle is so important. Battles are important, as is the honor that comes with them. He will carry honor for surviving this battle, along with the spoils that it will bring that he'll share in. And there will be many more. And while her hand may itch to save him that last time, she's strong willed enough to let it see true and give him the death he needs. Besides, Freya can walk between halls to see him no matter where he decides to be for eternity.
As his trousers are left in the grass next to her, Freya's head tilts to watch him with a smile. Bright eyes enjoy the sight of him as the water slowly hides him from view. He has every right to be proud, the words aren't said aloud but they may show in her eyes. And Freya is neither Lagertha or Siggy. She pushes up from the grass with a soft hum at the invitation. "I'd reconsider that when you have that one spot just mid back that you won't be able to reach," she teases softly.
Quick work is made of the leather tunic and it's strings and straps before it's falling into the grass next to his trousers. Soon enough her own trousers and boots join everything and she slips slowly into the water with him. It's slow enough to let him get a long look at her bare should he want to, done on purpose to let him. "But I would like to join you, yes," she finishes as she stills her feet near him. Her hand skims the surface of the water between them idly, enjoying water as it laps at skin. "It's not everyday that someone invites me to join." Most don't think to. While the gods may travel as they wish, and do as they wish, it's nice to be invited instead of just assumed they'll do things if they grant favor. If one were to think about it, they're prayed to for blessings, made offerings to appease those blessings or their wrath, but fair few invite in such a simple manner.
Thank you! I'm sorry I sat on this for a couple of days, work has knocked me for six
Date: 2019-01-03 06:47 pm (UTC)As she comes to the edge of the water, bare feet slipping beneath the mirrored surface, he can not help but come towards her, rational thought lost somewhat in the spell of her beauty and his growing enchantment. She almost certainly does not mean to have this impact, but it is her nature to do so, and it is in his nature to desire, especially what he can not or should not have.
But he can not help himself, and as she comes closer he reaches out to touch the hand skimming the surface of the water. He could say something about the offer to wash his back, make a joke out of her needing an invitation, but all of that seems unnecessary when he stands here with her, with the water swirling around them and distantly, around the curve in the river, the noise of celebration from the camp as the victorious Norsemen return. There doesn't seem to be any need to speak at all, to say anything, when she is so close now he can lean in and press his lips to hers.
She might strike him down now. She could, he supposes, stop his heart or have the water tug him away and drown him, but he doesn't think she will. Even if she does, it would be worth it, to die kissing the goddess of love and beauty.
So he does it, throwing caution to the wind.
Sorry work has been so hard, hun! Sounds like you need a vacation, soon!
Date: 2019-01-03 07:40 pm (UTC)The way he watches her, moves toward her as if enchanted, it pushes her heart to beat a little faster. She isn't doing anything special, other than being a goddess in her own right, but she can't help but enjoy the effect on him all the same. That raw edge in his eyes, in the way he moves, it's as powerful as her natural beauty. She was most definitely not lying when she had told him he was a handsome, powerful man and she can see all that power now.
There's no smiting, no water tugging him under. Her fingers thread through his on the hand that's touching the water's surface as she pushes up on her toes a little to meet him for that kiss as her free hand slides over his cheek gently before it tugs his beard to lower him a little. He is taller than her, and something in her is hoping he'll like that tug to let her reach him just a tad easier.
She doesn't even care that there's a hint of copper on his lips, most likely someone else's blood that had sprayed against him at the time of their death, she stretches as she can some to deepen the kiss. They don't need words right now, and the celebration will be going on most of the night so it's not like he's needed at the moment. All the noise, coupled with the soft churn of the river does is add a soft background to everything they're doing.
Rollo has a couple choices - bend lower for her or lift her up to give her better access. She'll be happy with either, truthfully.
This wasn't her original plan when she'd come to heal him, ending up in a river, bare with him. But she can't say she's in anyway disapproving of how their time is going right now either.
lols I think the problem was I'd just come back from one! But all good now
Date: 2019-01-06 09:42 am (UTC)That does not stop his arms from coiling around her, his hands smoothing down her sides and then around her back, lifting her so that he no longer has to bend. He isn't sure what he expected holding a god like this to feel like, but again, nothing strikes him down. Her divinity does not make it difficult to hold her or his arms ache, and that's welcome. If only because holding her against him like this brings her flush against him, her breasts against his chest and her hips aligned with him.
Rollo should know better. She's a goddess, one who has offered him more favour than any other person in his life, she has saved him from death to ensure he has a chance to fulfil the destiny she has told him about. He should be more respectful. He should not kiss her like this, he should not feel his body throb hungrily for her. Nor should he so desperately enjoy this, the way her nails catch against his skin, the power of her so much stronger than his own. But he does like it, all of it.
And would it be so bad, part of him thinks, to be remembered in legend as one of Freya's mortal lovers?
oh! The trying to get vacation brain back to work brain! That's so hard...
Date: 2019-01-07 09:01 pm (UTC)Legs slide along his hips as he lifts her up, settling around his skin to help hold herself up too. Though she has a feeling he could hold her that way for a while. One hand threads through his hair, nails sharp against skin without breaking it along his scalp as she gives a happy sound into the kiss even as she deepens it. There’s the softest tug of teeth against his lower lip, almost a question of if he wants a little hungrier, a little rougher than the current kiss they have. In this way, she is a goddess and he doesn’t have to be careful with her, she’d almost prefer if he wasn’t.
In some ways, Freya would argue that he’s showing her as much respect as he can. To know that his body throbs with hunger for her, that he finds her pleasurable even from just being flushed against each other and tangled in a kiss. This is everything she watches over, but narrowed down to just their pleasure. If he wants to stop, she will, but this far into the kiss, wrapped around him as she is, she’s hoping that he won’t want to stop, that he wants to continue, to see this through. There would be no hard feelings should he want to stop, no resentment.
Warrior, Lover, Favored by the Gods. Rollo probably couldn’t ask for more. Could he?