[ Even know he holds them, his vicious and brutal gods, even after all they had done to him, all that they had denied him. His heart still beats for Odin, for Thor, for Freyja, his hand still servants to their wills silent as they are. Long have they abandoned him, he figures, but still sacrifices are made and prays are whispered in the dead of night, unable to abanond them as he did so many others. There is little else to hold onto.
The man scoffs, amused, leaning back on his chair one hand anchoring so not to fall while the other remains still inside his jacket, fingers pressed tight to cold metal. ]
No, he fashioned himself nothing more than a man, a king. People whispered him to be a god, or the son of a god, but he bled as they did, wept as they did. Only... [ Again he shifts, leaning forward once more, voice lowering to a more solemn tone. ] He was doomed to wander as others passed to the great halls of Valhalla.
[ She had not had his time spent wondering, to know it in that way. It had been ripped from her. She could hear her people scream, she could remember the last time her father had kissed her brow, the first and last time he had readied her for battle. Put the swords into her hands and told her to fight for their people, to be brave as he had raised her.
In one drawn out afternoon of blood, she had lost them, and then she had kept losing them, until all she had left to her was Devi. Her Durgadal, her soldiers, her kingdom. Gone in a spray of blood and under the jaws of the pure breeds and their ilk, and those that they did not kill they twisted to their own form to their own purpose, to turn them against their own people.
She looks at him, sees it withered on his face and she has all she wanted to know. Stands then, not so quick, but more folds with a slow careful easiness. The gold glimmering as it hangs from her. A slow inviting lean without threat save where she always moves with purpose. She does not wish to discuss in front of others, the rest of this. ]
Come, take me elsewhere, Ragnar Lothbrok. Take me wherever it is the abandoned go.
[ In many ways his learning was a cruel one, a pain he would wish onto very few. To see time rip all he had known away, erode the great kingdoms of his time, and see their kings crumble into dust. There is little comfort in it, only a dull sting never to truly vanish. A slow rot to hollow out his bones.
She has it now, the answer to her riddle, to her question, the man behind the many names and stories. The game is over and she stands, leans towards him glittering and gold and for a moment he thinks to marvel at it all. Dangerous and beautiful, inviting as any woman should be but hiding her blades underneath. She would have made a good shieldmaiden. ]
Upstairs.
[ Suddenly Ragnar stands, pushing himself away from his chair with a near stumble. Eyes follow but the cheer never ceases, the chatter barely notes as he begins to ascend upwards with their glittering guest. ]
[ There's an adjustment, brief, -- quite probably his men would assume the worst of it ( or best of it to their view ) , men always did. That would be simpler if they did anyway and that was the rumour that got circulated. Kept anyone sniffing after her trail too hard. Let them think she was silly and just playing a woman's game.
Besides, she had so much more to ask him than that. ]
After you.
[ She pushes her shoulders back, squares the line of her body with a rolling step that flows without pause, one after the other, behind him and up the stairs. One brief look around the room, taking it in if she needed to make a quick exit this way in the near future, and to see who was looking. Never anything too forgiving in her gaze about that either. She meets eyes without hesitation and rather more a challenge. She was a Queen, they would back down first if they came to cross her over it.
Her steps are light after him, barely there creaks on the old worn wood. Trailing her gloves over the balustrade, taking his invitation with a pointed easiness as she follows him to whereever it was he was taking her. ]
[ It is not a grand room he claimed, plain by most standards, comfortable enough for the nights the will spend here before the waves take him else where - or until he accepts whatever proposal she seeks to place within his hands. A few furs line the bed, providing rest for leathers and swords, well kept relic from ages past. Against it rests a large wooden shield painted in blues, a pattern familiar only to him these days.
About the middle of the room, upon a small table, rests a bottle of mead and a plate of food - appetizing enough for a man pained by hunger. He walks by it almost languidly, taking hold of the bottle as he moves past, to rest upon the fur covered bed with it in hand. ]
[ It's like something far gone, looking around the small room. Stepping out of time, but they are both that. How long before she is nothing but a throw-back for her people?
Didn't matter, as her eyes skim the room over once again, hovering by the door and in that she doesn't venture too far in. Rather comes to stand by the table, leaning it against it with her hand tapping in a row. Watching him, tasting the ale in her mouth before she goes to speak. Bluntly as possible, with her head tilted a level gaze on him. ]
I have need of you, your experience, your reputation and your well-trained men.
Many people have need of me and my well-trained men, what makes you so different?
[ That is their trade now, after all, swords to fight for other men's wars. Sought in this country as much as the next, a reputation so wide it encompasses much of the sea. ]
What plagues you so that you would come to a dead man to help?
Because I am to fight the knights, their corruption and the man that is their master.
[ She knows what she's saying would be unthinkable outside of this room except for every soul left abandoned to the men and women that were supposed to protect them and yet no longer did so. They were to be considered above such petty mortal means, but they weren't. Anyone else that had the blackwater knew that they were nothing more than just men who had lived too long and seen too much. Just like Ragnar, just like she was. ]
You have fought them, and the half-breeds, haven't you?
[ Even he raises his eyebrows as she speaks, mocked disbelief to her claims. Who would believe the knights to be corrupt? Those bastions of goodness, protectors of the weak and the realm? Ah, but he is not friend to the knights and more annoyance than enemy. It would be a chance to pester, to remind them of what they lost and what they have yet to reclaim.
Suddenly he stands, drinking deep from his bottle, steps taking him towards a window. To the encompassing darkness swallowing the streets, consuming all light. ]
[ Why she is here at all -- she cannot stomach the nobility and the disbelief. The knights could not be corrupt, but they were. Or at least blinded. She would find the truth of it one day or another, though truthfully it didn't matter. She would end their tyranny of her home whether they were English, Half-Breed or Vampire kindred. ]
Then that is what I ask of you. [ Because this is it -- this is the only thing she cares about any longer. ] I need time to train warriors, fighters to protect the people here and see against the corruption that leaves them as victims of those who are meant to be protecting them. [ Tilts her face up, rolls her shoulders back. This is where she is ruler most: in her fierce need to protect and serve in equal turns. ] But I cannot do that with all sides breathing down my neck.
[ And that was where he came in -- ] I would ask you to protect the streets, and by doing so, your... reputation and the abilities of your men, will surely draw them away from my activities.
[ If he could busy their left hand, she could move the right. ]
[ Fight, she says, do what it is you do best. Take blade and gunpowder to the streets, to the beasts and the knights, be loud so that she may slip through the shadows unseen. So she may gather strength in secret, so she may sharpen her claws.
Laughter bubbles to his lips escaping with a low noise, muffled as he drinks. ]
You would have us be your goats. [ For that is the truth of it, the real truth, what she truly wants. ] Prance about and bleat, annoy them until all they become blind to you.
[ He turns back to her lips curved upwards, manic, eyes wide and wild. He relishes the chance she hands him, the promise of blood and violence and gunpowder. Opportunity to clash against the dangerous beasts of the night and then day, force his will against theirs and see who comes out whole. ]
I will do this, but my men... [ A sudden surge of movement has his return to the bed though he does not sit, resting instead a foot upon it, his body leaning towards her. ] They are not dead men, they thrive of money and warmth.
[ She smiles, brief and animal like. The flash of white teeth in the dark. ]
I could not imagine asking anyone else.
[ Because it's an even opportunity for mayhem, he could be as much menace in his bloodlust as he could be her best ally. Only time would tell. There was a sense of letting a great beast free among the streets that Devi would warn her about.
Knowing so much of the past didn't always make predicting the future any easier though - who could tell what would become of this. She had made her bed now, regardless and to that end she does not pull away when he leans forward and instead moves her hands. Deliberately up, to undo the scarf and discard it over the edge of his bed. ] No, they are not. Warmth and money they shall have.
[ She'd be a fool coming here expecting charity after all. Undoes the first clasp on her jacket and tugs it open. It reveals a gold chain, as bright as her other pieces. It is strung with jewels and pearls, and one stone large enough to turn half the Empires envy as its centerpiece. Ruby that had not been hers, but rather her husbands, from long ago, when such things had mattered. ] This country's Queen did not get all our treasures to adorn herself. [ Her fingers run underneath the heavy set of gold and brings it up over her head. Letting it swing from her fingers as if to draw him in closer to her. ] Will this be sufficient payment?
[ Knew that it was worth a small fortune when sold off. ]
[ There is something intense in his eyes as she watches her hands, watches the scarf slip from her neck and be discarded. Something else, this woman, deadly and dangerous, a tiger in glittering jewels and yet. His eyes glance the curve of her jaw, the lines of her neck, and he wonders to himself if her skin there is soft like silk. Wonders how it would feel beneath her fingers.
Ragnar exhales, fingers curling into light fists, her hands bringing forth the jewel. Surprised the viking shifts towards her, closer, putting aside the drink he had been nursing. ]
How generous. [ Desperate, perhaps, it speaks of how much she needs them. Needs him, his reputation. The mayhem he will cause for her, directed in just the right places. ] With this you will have them wholly, blades and guns, they will fight your beasts with songs upon their lips.
[ As for him? Well, the queen does not need to buy what she already possesses. ]
[ She extends her hand, letting it swing from her fingers. A pendulum of price, back and forth, back and forth. It glitters in the oil lamp light, as her gold does. Easily held her grasp. ]
And you, Ragnar Lothbrok? Is blood and gold enough to buy you?
[ His stories said it would be enough, said it wouldn't be enough, either. He asked for one thing, meant another, was known for his turns and twists. She could not sure until it was all done. ]
[ A brief moment he watches the jewel sway about in the air, like a piece of meat dangled in front of a hungry lion. He could snatch it from her then but his hands stay, mouth curved into a sharp grin. ]
This? [ He chuckles and leans back, looking at her from half lidded eyes. ] I suppose it can suffice, if there is nothing else you are willing to offer.
[ He is a greedy man after all, for gold, for knowledge. ]
[ It is pendulum weight in her hands, swinging back and forth in a steady measure of time. She watches him in turn, like she was doing the same. ]
No, not that comes to my mind. [ she lets the chain loose slowly between her fingers. Slipping down in a slithering noise until it falls free and lands heavy against the fur. There, settled, as far as his men are concerned. Her eyes upon him smile curling brief and flickering before she clears her throat, and her fingers come up to the buttons of her over jacket. The meaning is clear. She will vanish like smoke out from under him soon enough.
She is not here as the price. He has his payment. He will need to give her something back first. So she carries on all business like. Purposeful ignoring. There one second, and she will be gone the next. ] I should let you rest. You have your men to muster, and I have my own preparations to do. So if you can think of nothing else?
[ Clear enough. He laughs short, head tilting as her fingers button away her skin. Not so desperate to put herself forward, this proud queen, he prefers it this way. There would be no enjoyment in a victory won so easily. ]
Then it shall do. [ He takes the jewel from the furs, twisting the chain around his fingers, traces of warmth still clinging to the gold. ] A prize to keep any man warm at night.
[ He will sleep well with promise of chaos to warm him, if he sleeps at all. Perhaps he will prowl the streets when she vanishes from his sight, leaving nothing but wisps of smoke, inspect the battlefield before the battle. ]
I would not imagine keeping you. [ Even if he wanted too he is sure he couldn't. She is untouchable. ] You are free to leave, Your Majesty.
[ She nods, brief, before she steps away. Goes about wrapping her scarf around her neck again, holding the once rich, now threadbare thread in her fingers, ready to pull it up. The gold at its edges shining dimly. ]
Mortal men, perhaps. I wonder if gold soothes time?
[ And time is the only thing they have, after all, a crinkle to the corner of her eye. Yes, it would buy the men downstairs respite for a time. It would fill their lives because their lives were ending as they begun, it is about filling the space in the middle.
What was there for them that couldn't be sure if their end was tomorrow or hundreds of years from now? ]
I thank you, King Ragnar. [ The hood comes up, hiding away the rest of her, framing her face, blending her back into the depths and murk of Whitechapel. ] Ask for me in anywhere in Whitechapel, when you have made ready. I shall be there, soon enough, and there will be work to follow.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
The man scoffs, amused, leaning back on his chair one hand anchoring so not to fall while the other remains still inside his jacket, fingers pressed tight to cold metal. ]
No, he fashioned himself nothing more than a man, a king. People whispered him to be a god, or the son of a god, but he bled as they did, wept as they did. Only... [ Again he shifts, leaning forward once more, voice lowering to a more solemn tone. ] He was doomed to wander as others passed to the great halls of Valhalla.
Do you think that to be holy?
no subject
In one drawn out afternoon of blood, she had lost them, and then she had kept losing them, until all she had left to her was Devi. Her Durgadal, her soldiers, her kingdom. Gone in a spray of blood and under the jaws of the pure breeds and their ilk, and those that they did not kill they twisted to their own form to their own purpose, to turn them against their own people.
She looks at him, sees it withered on his face and she has all she wanted to know. Stands then, not so quick, but more folds with a slow careful easiness. The gold glimmering as it hangs from her. A slow inviting lean without threat save where she always moves with purpose. She does not wish to discuss in front of others, the rest of this. ]
Come, take me elsewhere, Ragnar Lothbrok. Take me wherever it is the abandoned go.
no subject
She has it now, the answer to her riddle, to her question, the man behind the many names and stories. The game is over and she stands, leans towards him glittering and gold and for a moment he thinks to marvel at it all. Dangerous and beautiful, inviting as any woman should be but hiding her blades underneath. She would have made a good shieldmaiden. ]
Upstairs.
[ Suddenly Ragnar stands, pushing himself away from his chair with a near stumble. Eyes follow but the cheer never ceases, the chatter barely notes as he begins to ascend upwards with their glittering guest. ]
no subject
Besides, she had so much more to ask him than that. ]
After you.
[ She pushes her shoulders back, squares the line of her body with a rolling step that flows without pause, one after the other, behind him and up the stairs. One brief look around the room, taking it in if she needed to make a quick exit this way in the near future, and to see who was looking. Never anything too forgiving in her gaze about that either. She meets eyes without hesitation and rather more a challenge. She was a Queen, they would back down first if they came to cross her over it.
Her steps are light after him, barely there creaks on the old worn wood. Trailing her gloves over the balustrade, taking his invitation with a pointed easiness as she follows him to whereever it was he was taking her. ]
no subject
About the middle of the room, upon a small table, rests a bottle of mead and a plate of food - appetizing enough for a man pained by hunger. He walks by it almost languidly, taking hold of the bottle as he moves past, to rest upon the fur covered bed with it in hand. ]
Now that we are alone you can speak your mind.
no subject
Didn't matter, as her eyes skim the room over once again, hovering by the door and in that she doesn't venture too far in. Rather comes to stand by the table, leaning it against it with her hand tapping in a row. Watching him, tasting the ale in her mouth before she goes to speak. Bluntly as possible, with her head tilted a level gaze on him. ]
I have need of you, your experience, your reputation and your well-trained men.
no subject
[ That is their trade now, after all, swords to fight for other men's wars. Sought in this country as much as the next, a reputation so wide it encompasses much of the sea. ]
What plagues you so that you would come to a dead man to help?
no subject
[ She knows what she's saying would be unthinkable outside of this room except for every soul left abandoned to the men and women that were supposed to protect them and yet no longer did so. They were to be considered above such petty mortal means, but they weren't. Anyone else that had the blackwater knew that they were nothing more than just men who had lived too long and seen too much. Just like Ragnar, just like she was. ]
You have fought them, and the half-breeds, haven't you?
no subject
Suddenly he stands, drinking deep from his bottle, steps taking him towards a window. To the encompassing darkness swallowing the streets, consuming all light. ]
I have fought many things, your beasts included.
no subject
Then that is what I ask of you. [ Because this is it -- this is the only thing she cares about any longer. ] I need time to train warriors, fighters to protect the people here and see against the corruption that leaves them as victims of those who are meant to be protecting them. [ Tilts her face up, rolls her shoulders back. This is where she is ruler most: in her fierce need to protect and serve in equal turns. ] But I cannot do that with all sides breathing down my neck.
[ And that was where he came in -- ] I would ask you to protect the streets, and by doing so, your... reputation and the abilities of your men, will surely draw them away from my activities.
[ If he could busy their left hand, she could move the right. ]
no subject
Laughter bubbles to his lips escaping with a low noise, muffled as he drinks. ]
You would have us be your goats. [ For that is the truth of it, the real truth, what she truly wants. ] Prance about and bleat, annoy them until all they become blind to you.
[ He turns back to her lips curved upwards, manic, eyes wide and wild. He relishes the chance she hands him, the promise of blood and violence and gunpowder. Opportunity to clash against the dangerous beasts of the night and then day, force his will against theirs and see who comes out whole. ]
I will do this, but my men... [ A sudden surge of movement has his return to the bed though he does not sit, resting instead a foot upon it, his body leaning towards her. ] They are not dead men, they thrive of money and warmth.
no subject
I could not imagine asking anyone else.
[ Because it's an even opportunity for mayhem, he could be as much menace in his bloodlust as he could be her best ally. Only time would tell. There was a sense of letting a great beast free among the streets that Devi would warn her about.
Knowing so much of the past didn't always make predicting the future any easier though - who could tell what would become of this. She had made her bed now, regardless and to that end she does not pull away when he leans forward and instead moves her hands. Deliberately up, to undo the scarf and discard it over the edge of his bed. ] No, they are not. Warmth and money they shall have.
[ She'd be a fool coming here expecting charity after all. Undoes the first clasp on her jacket and tugs it open. It reveals a gold chain, as bright as her other pieces. It is strung with jewels and pearls, and one stone large enough to turn half the Empires envy as its centerpiece. Ruby that had not been hers, but rather her husbands, from long ago, when such things had mattered. ] This country's Queen did not get all our treasures to adorn herself. [ Her fingers run underneath the heavy set of gold and brings it up over her head. Letting it swing from her fingers as if to draw him in closer to her. ] Will this be sufficient payment?
[ Knew that it was worth a small fortune when sold off. ]
no subject
Ragnar exhales, fingers curling into light fists, her hands bringing forth the jewel. Surprised the viking shifts towards her, closer, putting aside the drink he had been nursing. ]
How generous. [ Desperate, perhaps, it speaks of how much she needs them. Needs him, his reputation. The mayhem he will cause for her, directed in just the right places. ] With this you will have them wholly, blades and guns, they will fight your beasts with songs upon their lips.
[ As for him? Well, the queen does not need to buy what she already possesses. ]
no subject
And you, Ragnar Lothbrok? Is blood and gold enough to buy you?
[ His stories said it would be enough, said it wouldn't be enough, either. He asked for one thing, meant another, was known for his turns and twists. She could not sure until it was all done. ]
no subject
This? [ He chuckles and leans back, looking at her from half lidded eyes. ] I suppose it can suffice, if there is nothing else you are willing to offer.
[ He is a greedy man after all, for gold, for knowledge. ]
no subject
No, not that comes to my mind. [ she lets the chain loose slowly between her fingers. Slipping down in a slithering noise until it falls free and lands heavy against the fur. There, settled, as far as his men are concerned. Her eyes upon him smile curling brief and flickering before she clears her throat, and her fingers come up to the buttons of her over jacket. The meaning is clear. She will vanish like smoke out from under him soon enough.
She is not here as the price. He has his payment. He will need to give her something back first. So she carries on all business like. Purposeful ignoring. There one second, and she will be gone the next. ] I should let you rest. You have your men to muster, and I have my own preparations to do. So if you can think of nothing else?
no subject
Then it shall do. [ He takes the jewel from the furs, twisting the chain around his fingers, traces of warmth still clinging to the gold. ] A prize to keep any man warm at night.
[ He will sleep well with promise of chaos to warm him, if he sleeps at all. Perhaps he will prowl the streets when she vanishes from his sight, leaving nothing but wisps of smoke, inspect the battlefield before the battle. ]
I would not imagine keeping you. [ Even if he wanted too he is sure he couldn't. She is untouchable. ] You are free to leave, Your Majesty.
no subject
Mortal men, perhaps. I wonder if gold soothes time?
[ And time is the only thing they have, after all, a crinkle to the corner of her eye. Yes, it would buy the men downstairs respite for a time. It would fill their lives because their lives were ending as they begun, it is about filling the space in the middle.
What was there for them that couldn't be sure if their end was tomorrow or hundreds of years from now? ]
I thank you, King Ragnar. [ The hood comes up, hiding away the rest of her, framing her face, blending her back into the depths and murk of Whitechapel. ] Ask for me in anywhere in Whitechapel, when you have made ready. I shall be there, soon enough, and there will be work to follow.