N I N E T E E N

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|| N I N E T E E N ||

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The ashes
Fall slowly

As your voice
Consoles me

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That night she lay in her straw bed, comfortable under the warm furs and with her eyes plastered to the ceiling of the tent. Outside she could hear the clatter and chatter of people opting to spend their last night before riding out to battle drinking and with as little sleep as possible, but it didn't bother her as much as it did at first, once more surprising her how quickly she was able to adjust. Her mouth formed soundless words as her fingers moved from one bead to another, as she had spent most of the evening.

When she heard the opening of the tent rustle, she quickly lied down her hand on her stomach, her eyes shut close. Though she had gotten used to life with a camp on the move quickly, it was still a strange occurrence to sleep in the same space as someone of the opposite sex, especially when the said person was possibly the most infuriating individual to ever exist.

"I know you are not asleep," Ivar grunted as he passed by her bed, before he heaved himself upon his. Their beds were placed so that they formed a ninety-degree angle, their heads close together if it wasn't for the fact that his bed was raised from the ground, so he watched silently in the dim light offered by a couple of candles as her eyes fluttered open, the sight of them filling him with feelings he had never experienced before.

"How did you know?" she asked curiously, tilting her head slightly so that she could look him in the eyes. It was then that she caught him staring at her and hastily, snapped out of some trance, Ivar looked away and began to work on the metal clasps of his braces.

"You never fall asleep when you pray," Ivar muttered in reply, his answer barely audible.

She frowned for a moment and then realised with a little jolt that he was right. Feeling like some of the distance had been removed between the two of them after the happenings of this afternoon, she turned on her side, making sure that her entire body was still covered by the furs, though there was nothing she could do to her hair falling to her back, exposing the side of her neck and part of her shoulder. "When I was a younger girl, I used to fall asleep during prayer all the time," she admitted. Her blue eyes shifted from the rosary, which she had wrapped around her hand, to Ivar, whose hands had stopped opening the buckles, his eyes fixated on her with an expression she could not begin to understand. "I would start over every time I got distracted by my thoughts, so I would sit by the side of my bed until I finally fell asleep on the ground. Mother used to chastise me all the time for appearing at breakfast looking like I had been risen from the death myself."


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