The battle had been long and hard but exhilarating as battles are. Now they were back in the encampment having ate and now drinking. Heahmund settles against one of the sides, watching as Ivar talks to Harald and then argue with Hvitserk. He’s had nothing to add and eventually they are alone as Heahmund finishes off his mead.
It had been a long day. Battles were always good for getting the blood racing, but after the adrenaline had worn off, Ivar tended to be left in more pain then when he'd started out. His leg braces were very heavy things to be in all day as he commanded the troops. Add in having to speak with Harald and his own brother equaled a very tired Viking.
He's out of his leg braces by now and crawls over towards the priest. He leans up against Heahmund as he sits up, looking a bit weary. He's got absolutely no respect for the priest's personal space. "They're both idiots. I'm the only one with any sort of brains around here."
Heahmund doesn't move at first when Ivar ends up leaning against him. This is more commonplace now, Ivar pushing his way into his personal space regardless of whether Heahmund wants to allow him to be there or not. He doesn't push him away, though, it's usually easier to simply go with it.
"And yet you so rarely seem to use them." The words aren't said with his usual scathing malice, more like he's just gently teasing the priest. He leans in a little more, head now resting on Heahmund's shoulder.
"Have you ever noticed your God seems to have put a curse on you?" He asks, thoughts becoming a bit slower now. "You lost every battle against me in England."
Heahmund if he were more immature would roll his eyes but instead he just makes a tch sound quietly. He exhales as the other's head rests on his shoulder, the weight more familiar than it should be really.
"Sometimes he puts us through trials that we can't understand until they are done."
"Yes, yes, God works in mysterious ways," he says, reciting wearily what he hears Heahmund tell him often enough. "I don't think you'll understand them even when they are finished."
He just sort of slumps over, his head now in Heahmund's lap. Since he can't very well go anywhere else in his current condition, he lies there, eyes almost shut. Heahmund could always get up and move, but even Ivar has noticed him warming up just a little to his teenage Viking master.
Heahmund glances down at Ivar when the Vikings head settles in his lap. He has a mind to push him off or to move but there’s something that doesn’t let him, Ivar almost looking ... well endearing might be too strong a word for either of them to ever use. He rests his head on the wall and looks up as if he’s praying to the heavens for a moment.
There's nothing really sexual on Ivar's mind with the action, just perhaps an ingrained desire for tactile comfort that he doesn't really get from anyone in his life. Perhaps if he wasn't so good at pushing his brothers away, he would get it there, but Ivar was Ivar. He was always going to be the instrument of his own destruction.
"How much free will does your God even allow you possess? It seems like he rules your life most of the time." Not an observation filled with malice or designed to entice annoyance in Heahmund as he so often likes to do. Just something Ivar has realized during their talks about religion.
"And yet you do so absolutely. I do think you--" He stifles a yawn. This is a very comfortable position. "--follow him blindly at times." Of course, the same thing could be said about Ivar. That same fiery passion to obey the will of their respective gods as their instruments ran through both of them.
“Faith is not about seeing everything. And you more often than not are stumbling forward with blind rage,” Heahmund counters, his eyes on Ivar and sometimes he’s not sure how to feel about the Viking. He seems to call to his worst qualities and yet grows an affection inside of him daily.
"Rage? Yes. But blind? Less often than you'd think." Ivar makes stupid mistakes when he's in a blind rage. Anger might sustain him, but he uses it to forward his goals rather than just give into it without thinking.
One hand comes up to rest on lightly on Heahmund's thigh as he slowly falls asleep. If Heahmund hasn't shoved him off by now, he's not going to. And Ivar feels comfortable here, almost safe in a way. Heahmund has an infuriating way of making Ivar want to trust him even when he knows he shouldn't.
"Or that is simply what you want me to think," Heahmund says, watching him as he's falling asleep and he's not sure how to feel about how comfortable it is or the heat that rises when the other's hand rests on his thigh. Ivar looks far more innocent than he is as he's falling asleep.
Once Heahmund is sure that Ivar has fallen asleep his hand thoughtlessly combs through the teen's hair, exhaling heavily as he does.
Ivar's weariness overcomes him and he falls asleep without another word, unusual for someone who always has to get the last one in. He'll continue this later on once he wakes up.
He makes a sound that could easily be a purr as he sleeps when Heahmund begins to stroke his hand through his hair, the hand on his thigh subconsciously clutching him just a little tighter. Perhaps he's somewhere far away in his mind, back when he was still a small child with most of his innocence intact.
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For Ivar
“They speak as if the battle is already over.”
no subject
He's out of his leg braces by now and crawls over towards the priest. He leans up against Heahmund as he sits up, looking a bit weary. He's got absolutely no respect for the priest's personal space. "They're both idiots. I'm the only one with any sort of brains around here."
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"I believe that I also have plenty."
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"Have you ever noticed your God seems to have put a curse on you?" He asks, thoughts becoming a bit slower now. "You lost every battle against me in England."
no subject
"Sometimes he puts us through trials that we can't understand until they are done."
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He just sort of slumps over, his head now in Heahmund's lap. Since he can't very well go anywhere else in his current condition, he lies there, eyes almost shut. Heahmund could always get up and move, but even Ivar has noticed him warming up just a little to his teenage Viking master.
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“It is not up to me.”
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"How much free will does your God even allow you possess? It seems like he rules your life most of the time." Not an observation filled with malice or designed to entice annoyance in Heahmund as he so often likes to do. Just something Ivar has realized during their talks about religion.
no subject
"One can choose not to follow the will of God."
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Maybe it is some pagan witchcraft.
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One hand comes up to rest on lightly on Heahmund's thigh as he slowly falls asleep. If Heahmund hasn't shoved him off by now, he's not going to. And Ivar feels comfortable here, almost safe in a way. Heahmund has an infuriating way of making Ivar want to trust him even when he knows he shouldn't.
no subject
Once Heahmund is sure that Ivar has fallen asleep his hand thoughtlessly combs through the teen's hair, exhaling heavily as he does.
no subject
He makes a sound that could easily be a purr as he sleeps when Heahmund begins to stroke his hand through his hair, the hand on his thigh subconsciously clutching him just a little tighter. Perhaps he's somewhere far away in his mind, back when he was still a small child with most of his innocence intact.