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Priest! Did you know that your Jesus Christ was not a Christian?!

[There's no greeting when Athlestan picks up. Just a question.]

Where are you?

[He's not entirely sure why he's calling Athlestan. Maybe because the priest is from his world, knows Ragnar, and thus knows exactly why Ivar will be so upset. His voice sounds somewhere between furious and like Ivar is trying to hold back tears.]

It had been hours now.

Ragnar returned to a dark house, one dim light on in the kitchen. Even so, he could see that the knives had been taken out of the walls and, he wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he'd bled all over the floor. It had all been cleaned up. Athelstan.

He made a mental note to thank him in the morning. Gyda didn't need to see any of that.

It struck him that he was still a mess, caked in dry blood, the injury on his palm still open. He was pretty sure there were bandages, or at least some linen, in the bathroom upstairs. He dragged his hand over his face and headed up the stairs as quietly as he could, flicking the light on in the bathroom and swinging the door just shy of shut. He dug around in the space under the sink, looking for anything that he could wrap his hand with. Tucked in the back, he found a roll of gauze and did his best to wrap his hand up. It was his left hand at least, making it slightly easier.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and made a face. He looked like absolute shit. The tiny knick in his ear had bled profusely, so there was a trail of dried blood down the side of his neck that made it look like he'd been majorly injured despite the cut being barely visible. His tunic was also stuck in the dried blood on his shoulder, though that cut looked to have closed up. It was just easier to leave his tunic for now, if he took it off it would likely reopen the cut on his shoulder and he didn't want to deal with it.

With his palm wrapped up, he just thought 'good enough' and was ready to slink into the spare bedroom. He didn't want to deal with Athelstan right now... if the monk was even still there.

[This is out of the blue... it also comes at around ten o'clock at night, and by the raspy tone of his voice he probably isn't very close to sober even by Dodger's standards.]

I'm bored. What are you wearing?

Are you proud of yourself?

[Dodger's voice is hoarse and raspy - almost difficult to understand, from the way he's managed to strain it. He's breathing heavily, but more importantly... his face is splattered with blood, and his eyes are remarkably dull. They already had a sort of distant quality to them, but now they're entirely numb and listless. Even his accusation is just words, with no emotion behind them.]

See, I always figured... if you were gonna execute someone, you should be there to look at them when it happens. Ragnar was there. Wonder where you were.

[His left arm is shaky, nearly useless, but he hopes it up for Athelstan to see. There's not an inch of skin left on it, all the way to the shoulder, and his makeshift attempt to bandage it just to stop the bleeding did exactly fuck all to either staunch it or hide the gore.]

That drug was half alcohol, you fuckwit. It was a party drug. I told you exactly what it did, and you drank it. [His eyes barely move, but they're staring unblinking at the camera as his useless arm flops back down.] And now my dog is dead. I hope you're fucking happy.

I hope this was worth it.

Ragnar had walked Gyda halfway to her school, despite her protests. The walk was mostly for him, though he wasn't about to admit that. The cool morning air helped clear his mind and by the time he was done cleaning out the stalls and making sure the goats were fed and watered, he was feeling relaxed and level headed.

He'd slept on the couch last night and hadn't seen Athelstan all morning, so coming inside and hearing the shower running made him smile softly. He headed up the stairs and paused on the other side of the bathroom door, hesitating. There really wasn't anything worse than the feeling of rejection, which he'd just received the previous night.

Still.

The moment of hesitation was short lived as he quietly pushed the bathroom door open, disrobed, and got in the shower with Athelstan.

"Good morning," He said quietly as if they were simply passing one another in the hallway.

Do you have some free time today?

No, wait- you probably don't remember me. My name is- Cinna. We spoke over the network a while ago, but it was in wri- in text. Anyway. I need someone to talk to, and I know you're someone that might understand... the complications of it.

[Ivar had just showed up at the house when he realized Ragnar was gone. He didn't really have to say anything to Athelstan, just the presence of the priest was enough to settle his nerves. He kept fiddling around with a knife, a gesture that was like the comforting way a child would hold onto a favorite toy.]

And you're sure he didn't tell you where he was going?

[If anyone would know the inner workings of Ragnar's mind, it was the priest.]

[After yelling at his father, Ivar had avoided the house for a few days, but he couldn't stay away forever. His family was there and he needed them, as much as it galled him to think of it. To distract from his current woes, he brought over a movie to watch with Athelstan.]

I am told this movie has something to do with religion and demons.

[Oh, Ivar, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. Shortly after it begins, the pagan teen becomes oddly interested in it, leaning forward as the mention of demons starts.]

video

Phone call

action~

@dodger//audio

@dodger//video

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