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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"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.
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"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.
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Once Heahmund is sure that Ivar has fallen asleep his hand thoughtlessly combs through the teen's hair, exhaling heavily as he does.
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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.