When his name is spoken there is a warmth that spreads over Noah's chest. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he stood in the presence of the god, but he was unable to manage it. It was shaky and he felt even his hands shaking slightly at his sides. Eira approached then, pressing her body into Noah's legs and chirping up at the god, just as she had done with Frey. As each word is spoken, Noah felt the weight of it. Heavy on his shoulders as the snow is on the shelter he left behind, the hunter needed to shift his weight to hold it.
And then there was a flash of a memory, of tiny hands and of tiny hooves bucking out as Noah fled the shrine, joy overcoming him. His mind swirled. It was a memory formed so young, that until Noah looked up into the soft, steady brown eyes that cast down on him now, he had simply forgotten the blurred, fuzzy images. "Vi." He finally breathed out, knowing who stood before him and called him to his presence. The same soft, steady brown eyes had lifted the reindeer from his very spirit at an age too early to give testament to. But Noah had been seen like this before, and the familiarity and reverence of it all nearly took his knees out from under him -- but he stood, the Sentinel, as the god of life called him. "What would you have me do?"
Noah Olson cold in the violence after the war hope is a fire to keep us warm |
