Odin's Prize

Let Them EAT

Thank you originally to @meckymeck for telling me about this song and for 

@booksandmorebooks123 for bringing the song back to the forefront. 

Silence is stretching itself in a thick, heavy, smothering sound. There is no shutting your ears off to this kind of noise.

Odin is without movement, holding himself waiting on my answer. His forearms are resting against the smoothness of the polished wood table. The scissors just in front of his left hand, it makes me think, is he a south paw? 

Can he hear the sound of my heart breathing?

The muscles on his back, shift and spread the canvas of art that tell of tales of adventure, conquest and a path that he is walking solidly on.

The build up of silence is getting louder and louder, uncomfortable as he waits on the easy or hard path of my decision.

"Do all females coming from another pack have this done to them?" The air is holding onto the heaviness of my words before they drop down on us.

"All females go through this, even within the Far North. We each cut the other's hair, cutting away our Old path as individuals. Together on our new path, our hair will grow, and in the beginning, it won't look that good, it will stick up in places it will be awkward but then there will be a time that it starts to take shape, it will start to look better, feel better. You will be able to do more with it as it takes shape. Do you understand this? It's our living within the Old Ways. It's symbolic, meaning the shedding of your old half, as our new halves combine we can watch the growth of it, the growth of ourselves as our Halves start to connect and grow strong." Conviction of honesty swirls it's breath around within these walls. 

Walking towards Odin, placing hand my right hand on his left shoulder. The faint sound of a sigh coming from his mouth, a delicate tremor of skin felt underneath my palm. Nails are starting to grip into the wood, the first markings of the pristine top that has been meticulously sanded and polished with hours and hours of work. 

Reaching towards the scissors, letting my cheek brush against his. The corner of our mouths makes the briefest of greetings, before pulling away with the scissors in my hand. 

Fingertip travels on the side of his head, running over the tattoos that line the scalp. He angles towards, into the touch, from the side I can see his eyes are closed. Tracing the ancient ruins of symbolic meaning the blue and green entwine together where you don't know where the image starts or stops. The ink hiding underneath the hair, and by cutting it, I will reveal the whole picture.

"Where do I begin?" Speaking this against the first vertebra of his spine, inhaling his scent in. Odin is unable to contain the Nature within as the flexion of his spine shifts outwards before it's reeled back into skin form. Those nails of his digging a much deeper groove into the wood surface they are locked into it.

"Start at the top, Charlie." The first strand cut close to the scalp comes off, the scissors quickly cutting away the growth, to reveal blue, the color of my eyes, a shape forming the more of his hair that I cut away. 

Fingertip once again roaming over the pattern that's coming to life as the old is cut away showing me a picture. His hand captures my wrist that's holding the scissors, pulling me forward, so our cheeks touch once again with a deep breath coming from a chest that seemed to be holding in air. The corners of our mouths so close, when he turns his head, his lips brush my skin before he lets go of my hand for me to continue forward with the task at hand.