this is a problem we can't run away from [Ubbe/Bjorn]

Thora was feeling so off-balance after her conversation with Bjorn behind the pillar. She hated feeling vulnerable, hated feeling so powerless. She knew that eventually this would make her stronger, but right now all she feels is weak. She feels so raw, so open to every little thing: every stormy glance from Bjorn's deep blue eyes, the memory of his callused hands against her cheek and his lips firm against her forehead. She's confused, and hurting, her past dredged up and leaving her feeling so confused. She's quick to grab another horn of ale, draining it in long gulps, her hand resting against the table to steady herself, because she feels almost like she's going to fall over at any moment. She knows it's a stupid thing to do, that the ale isn't going to help her, but she just needs something, anything, to distract her from the storm rising in her blood. She's scanning the tables for her brother Audun. Really, this is all his fault. He convinced her to come to the feast, and then pushed her into the line of dancers. If she'd just stayed sitting at the table, none of this would have happened.

She's desperate for a friendly face, feels like she's a leaf drifting in a rough wind--sinking, sinking, and soon she'll drown in all that she's feeling. Audun is nowhere to be seen, the back of his head indistinguishable from the backs of countless other heads. She curses him softly, her hands clenching into fists in her skirts, and pours herself another horn of ale with shaking hands. Thora hopes her gut isn't wrong, that whatever happened between her and Bjorn behind that pillar, whatever understanding they've finally seemed to reach, is going to make her stronger in the long run. Because in this moment, all she feels is weak and raw and terribly alone.

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to breathe more slowly as she scans the crowds again. There has to be someone here she knows, some distraction she can lose herself in.

Thora is in the process of draining her second horn of ale, even though she knows she's drinking too much too fast, and it will only cause trouble. She's still looking for someone, anyone, when she feels eyes devouring her from behind. She ignores them, thinking it's probably just another drunk Viking come to try his luck with her. She's hoping he'll just leave her alone; she's not in the mood for drunken hands grabbing at her, not again. She keeps looking for her brother, still silently cursing him in her head for the mess she's in now. Blaming him is easier than blaming herself, at least now when she's feeling so vulnerable. She'll reconsider in the morning, through what she's sure is going to be a raging hangover, but she doesn't care. She's almost forgotten about the eyes on her, she's so intent on being angry at her brother.

But then there's a body behind her, so close she can feel the warmth radiating from him. She's about to jam her elbow into his gut when hot breath tickles her ear and a familiar voice is speaking to her. You look offlay lonely to be so beautiful and fierce. The relief is so strong she can almost laugh from it--Ubbe. Maybe the gods heard her prayer after all, sent her a friendly face to soothe the confusing storm roiling through her. The ale certainly wasn't helping, but Ubbe... In this moment, she thinks she's never been happier to see a person than she is to see Ubbe. He's kind and playful, and simply his presence is enough to make her feel calmer. She resists the almost overwhelming urge to lean her back against his chest, to sink into the warmth of him and forget everything else for a little while. "I'm not lonely anymore, am I?" She asks, raising her eyebrows even though she hasn't turned to face him yet.

What are you looking for? She was opening her mouth to answer him when she hears Ubbe's deep chuckle, and she knows they're about to begin another round of their game. Excitement rises in her as he speaks. Yes, this is exactly what she was hoping for. Because you can just turn around if you're looking for a handsome face. She giggles, a little breathless, and finally turns to face him. She's surprised by how close he is, but she doesn't step back. The ale in her blood is urging her on, and she reaches up one hand to draw a finger down the length of his nose. Her tone is light and challenging when she answers. "You have a high opinion of your own good looks." She grins at him, but her bright eyes are soft as she continues. "Although I can't disagree with you." She pulls her hand away and lets it fall back to her side as she looks up at him again. It strikes her again how close he is, and she fights the urge to step closer. She's still feeling unbalanced after her talk with Bjorn, and Ubbe is steady and solid even when they're taunting each other. He makes her feel safe, and she so desperately wants to feel safe right now.

"What did I do to earn the pleasure of your company, Ubbe?" She's smiling slightly, her tone a little bit mocking as she looks up at him, into his deep blue eyes. Yes, she already feels safer, calmer, in Ubbe's comforting presence and in their familiar, easy banter.

Ubbe's voice is like a rope that she grabs to keep herself from drowning. The sound of his voice in her ear, his breath tickling against her cheek, and his warmth behind her bring her back to herself, back to this moment. Maybe in the morning she'll blame the ale, but Thora is finally ready to let the wolf catch her. Their friendship is easy and teasing, a careful hunting game of taunting and chasing. Tonight, she's ready to fall prey to Ubbe. She remembers the feel of his bottom lip between her teeth in the woods, the groan she drew from him when she sucked his lip roughly into her mouth. She remembers the way his large, warm hands gripped her wrist, and the way his body felt against hers. She blames the ale for the quickening of her pulse, but she doesn't want to think too much about it. There's only this moment, only now, with Ubbe behind her ready to spring.

She rubs her cheek lightly against Ubbe's as his chin rests on her collarbone for a moment, his beard tickling her. "You're already helping." Her voice is light and playful, ready to taunt him, to lose herself in their game, in his bright eyes and smiling mouth. She thinks again of his lip between her teeth, and grins. She's ready for him to catch her. She turns around, watches the way his eyes dip to her lips as she giggles. Thora can practically see the thoughts behind his eyes, running so similar to her own. It's something of a dangerous game they're playing, but they're both just drunk enough that the danger doesn't matter. All that matters is the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of a successful hunt. She runs her finger lightly over his nose, happy that he doesn't pull back, that he seems to enjoy her touch, even. "The day I start complaining about you, Ubbe, I've lost my mind." She laughs, shaking her head. She knows his leaving is an empty threat, he seems determined to catch her. Besides, Ubbe is her friend, they promised each other so. She knows he won't walk away from her, just like she won't walk away from him.

Thora leans into his touch, her eyes closing for a moment as his gentle fingers trace her jawline. She likes the way her name sounds coming from his lips, and she lifts her bright green eyes to meet his blue ones. "What are you looking to earn tonight?" The question is a challenge, just like almost everything is between them. She can guess what his answer will be, but she wants to hear him say it. Wants him to admit he's looking to continue their game, maybe even take it one step further. She saw the way he watched her in the woods, but he wasn't the only one doing the watching. Maybe he's young, maybe he's untested, but he moves with the lethal grace of a predator. He lives up to his namesake, and Thora knows someday men will fear him. But she doesn't feel fear, waiting for him to pounce, only a breathless sort of uncertainty. She wants reassurance, but isn't willing to admit her weakness.

She's still as his fingers trail down over her throat, a small smile playing over her mouth as she looks up at him. His hand drops away and he speaks. She tilts her head to listen, and the ale urges her to take a step closer to him. She obeys, and when she answers her voice is light and teasing. She loves this, the taunting of him, the way they dance between serious and joking so easily--as if the line between them didn't exist at all. "That's all I am to you, Ubbe? Duty?" She pouts up at him, reaching up to sharply tug his long braid. Her eyes narrow in mock anger, but she can't keep the smile from her face as she continues. "If all I am to you is duty, go fulfill your duties to other people." She pulls once more on his braid before letting go, but she doesn't step back.

The two cups of ale she drained just before Ubbe found her are starting to catch up with her, a tingling warmth spreading through her body and the noise of the feast fading to background chatter. And Ubbe is here, standing so close to her she can barely think straight. All she can think of is the feel of his muscular body beneath hers when she pinned him, and the weight of him holding her down when he pinned her. Their game is dangerous, so dangerous, but Thora has always loved danger. If she was smart, she would leave. Just walk out of the great hall, and leave her brother to find his own way to her house after the feast. But maybe Thora isn't as smart as she thinks, or at least the ale makes her dumb. She's feeling reckless, and off-balance after her talk with Bjorn, after dredging up the past that she tries so hard to forget. Thora hates feeling so vulnerable. With Ubbe, she feels strong again. Feels more like herself. It's a feeling that's more intoxicating than even the ale. She couldn't walk away from him right now, even if she wanted to.

She rolls her eyes as he speaks, although she can't help but laugh at her wink. "I don't think anybody ever plans to lose their mind." She pauses, smirking up at him, taunting, challenging as always. "Just like you didn't plan on losing to me in the woods." She knows those are dangerous words, but she's trying to taunt him. She loves teasing him, and she wants to see how he's going to react to that statement--if he's going to tease her back, or jokingly try to make her pay. She's eager to see what path he chooses, how their game is going to play out tonight. She knows the stakes are higher now, the reward greater--but so is the danger. She's not afraid, though. She wants to play this game until the end, although she hopes at the same time that it never ends.

She knows it's obvious how much his touch affects her when she leans into his hand tracing her jawline. When she looks up at him, she can see how much he wants to touch her, too. She isn't sure whether she should thank the ale or curse it, so instead she just focuses on the feel of Ubbe's gentle fingers. That's easier than thinking about anything else, than feeling anything else. And Ubbe, he's kind and playful. He's one man that she will allow to touch her, one that she can let her guard down around. She asks him what he's looking to earn tonight, although she already knows the answer. It's obvious in the way his hands explore her face, but still she makes him say it. She wants to be sure of the direction their game is moving in. Usually she doesn't care, just lets the game go in any direction it takes them, but tonight Thora needs certainty. She was feeling so vulnerable when Ubbe found her, and although she feels better with him, there's still part of her that feels powerless.

A small smile tilts up the corners of her lips when he answers, saying he's looking to earn her. Then he's throwing the question back at her, giving her control, allowing her the chance to turn back from their game. Because even drunk Ubbe would never do anything she didn't want him to do. She reaches up one hand to trail it through his beard, her smile growing as she meets his bright blue eyes. "You. But you already knew that, didn't you?" She knows she isn't good at hiding her emotions under the best circumstances, but especially not when she's drunk. Suddenly she's looking up at him, her green eyes wide and serious, and she bites her lip before she speaks again. "But if it's going to make it so we can't be friends, I'm not going to let you catch me tonight."


She grins again when he says that she isn't duty, that he wants to be here with her. Hunting her. She tugs his braid, watching the expression change in his eyes from playful to dominant. She tugs again, liking this shift in him, and grins. His hand is suddenly wrapping around her waist, her back pressing into a pillar, and Ubbe is so close to her she can feel the heat of him. His hand is under her chin, rougher than before, more eager, forcing her to look up at him. He's so close she can feel his breath on her face, smelling like ale, and she can't stop herself from wondering what his mouth would taste like on hers. Thora rests one hand on Ubbe's back, between his shoulder blades, stroking in a small circle. "Good." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she smiles up at him. "Because I want you to be here, trying to catch me. If I let you." Her grin is wild, like she's daring him to try and catch her. Her hand is still rubbing slow circles between his shoulders, and her other hand rests against the arm that's around her waist.

Thora considers that maybe she's in the mood to be caught, because she suspected from the instant she heard Ubbe's voice behind her that this was the direction their game is going. He's given her plenty of chances to escape, and she's taken none of them. She thinks that maybe this is inevitable, that they've been hurtling toward an ale-soaked encounter since they first met. They've always been hunting each other, taunting and teasing and bantering. It's an easy friendship, one she doesn't want to endanger, but tonight Thora is in a dangerous mood. Ubbe is steady, he's comforting, and she cares about him. She's grateful he somehow managed to find her just when she most needed someone, and rather than question that, she's just going to be thankful for it.

She grins as he throws his head back laughing, and she loves the carefree, happy sound of it. "Of course I'm bringing it up, somebody needs to put you in your place." She teases,then looks up at him as he lowers his gaze to hers and speaks again, reminding her that he had her pinned. She didn't need to be reminded, she remembers it very clearly. She watches as he licks his lip, the exact spot where she'd bitten it. She's shocked to find that she wants to lick that spot herself, to lose herself in the taste of him.  She licks her lips without realizing it before shaking herself out of those thoughts to answer him. "I remember. And I remember the way your lip felt between my teeth." She winks, then shakes her head at Ubbe's next words, a playful smile on her lips. "You're right. I guess I'll have to let you win sometimes." She winks.

She's grateful for the way her and Ubbe go between playful and serious so easily, without missing a step. They just seem able to understand each other well, it's an important thing for friends and for companions in the shield wall. She relaxes as he promises he would never endanger their friendship, his fingers gently stroking her chin. She meets his bright blue eyes and sees the honesty there, and things are getting a bit too serious for her. She dips her head down to gently bite on the finger tracing her chin, grinning as she looks up at him again. "I believe you, Ubbe." And with that simple statement, everything became playful and easy again.

Thora settles her back against the pillar, Ubbe's hands harder, more demanding, against her skin. His head is close to hers now, so close and coming even closer. He's whispering as his face lowers down to hers. He strokes the tip of his nose against her cheek and she shivers slightly, closing her eyes, focusing on the feel of him, the sound of his whisper. His lips are at her ear then, his breath tickling her. Then he's moving back to look in her eyes again, and she meets his smile with one of her own. "This is working just fine," she assures him in a whisper. She stops rubbing the small circles between his shoulder blades and rubs her hand slowly down his broad back, around his side, and up to his chest. Her hand stops on his shoulder as his fingers close around her neck as he begins to lean some of his weight against her. He teases her again, looking down at her lips as he asks if she's feeling caught already. Her hand slides firmly down his arm, pausing at his wrist, and her thumb slowly strokes the back of his hand. She smirks up at him, tightening her grip on his wrist a little. "I think I could escape if I really wanted to." She's teasing him back, smirking, and moves her head closer to his, until the tips of their noses are touching. "But you were right earlier, I have to let you win sometimes." She tilts her head, their noses sliding past each other, moving until their lips are barely a breath apart. Her tongue darts out and she licks his lip quickly, giggling, before pressing her nose back to his. Her bright green eyes meet his blue ones and she whispers, "Maybe I want to feel caught tonight."

Thora can't deny that sometimes she's remembered the feel of Ubbe's lip between her teeth, the warmth of his body against hers when they sparred in the woods when they first met. But more important than that to her is their game: their teasing and banter, the easiness of their friendship. She likes Ubbe, and she doesn't want to jeopardize their friendship, but right now she's feeling so raw and vulnerable, left so open from her talk with Bjorn. She wants a distraction, doesn't want to think or feel anything unpleasant; and Ubbe is certainly pleasant. Had she been sober, she might not have let him catch her so easily. In the morning, maybe she'll blame this on ale and weakness, or maybe she won't. Thora isn't sure, but this feast is supposed to be fun. It isn't supposed to make her remember things she doesn't want to, isn't supposed to open her up to feelings she doesn't want to face. But it does, and in the morning she'll probably groan and curse herself through a pounding head and confused thoughts. Those are problems for tomorrow.

Because right now, Ubbe is here and she feels safe and light-hearted, playing the familiar game with him. Even if there is an edge of something more dangerous to their playing tonight, she chooses to ignore it. Thora will deal with those problems in the morning, when her head is clear from ale and Ubbe isn't filling her entire vision with his bright blue eyes and smiling mouth, so close she can feel the heat coming off him. His presence is entirely too good of a distraction. The pillar is solid and reassuring against her back, Ubbe is soothing--or at least distracting her from--everything that Bjorn left feeling so expose and raw. She can't help but roll her eyes when he replies, a little smug, thought so and pokes a finger lightly into the center of his chest. "Arrogant," she snorts, smiling.

And then his fingers are at her throat and he's someone she'll never flinch from, even when he could so easily harm her if he wished, even when he has her in such a vulnerable position. For all their easy banter and friendship, for all their teasing and games, she trusts him. She remembers how he sensed her unease when they first met in the woods, how he took care to show her he was no threat and to put her at ease. He's a good man. Her hand trails from his back to his shoulder, his side, his chest. Down his arms, slowly, exploring, taking her time. She pauses at his wrist, watches his eyes flick to her hand as she strokes her thumb slowly along the back of his hand. She only shakes her head in response to his statement. No, she doesn't want to escape. Not from him, not right now. She pressed their noses together before darting forward to lick his lip, the same spot he'd licked just a little earlier, the same one she'd bitten in the woods. Her giggle is a little breathless, and she watches his smile grow wider.

She knows his mouth is coming to hers but still the first contact shocks her. His lips aren't gentle against hers, rough and demanding, conquering. And in the nature of their game, Thora cannot meekly let him take whatever he pleases. She rises to the challenge of his lips, her own just as rough against his. She feels his callused palm against her cheek, loses herself in the feel of his fingers tangling in her hair, and tightens her grip on his wrist. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers, his blue eyes meeting her green ones, and he whispers to her again. She isn't quite sure how to answer him, it seemed like a serious statement. To buy herself a little time, she presses a quick kiss to the thumb tracing her lip. Her eyes meet his again and she whispers back, "Don't blame me, blame the ale. You always had a choice." And yet, strangely, she feels like neither of them really had much of a choice, not with the way this night kept spinning off in unpredictable directions.

Thora feels safe, feels calm, pressed between Ubbe and the pillar. His lips had been rough and sweet against hers, the ale in her blood howling only for more, but even moments like that can't last forever. Ubbe's smiling, asking if she would rather have him choose differently. But before she can even answer, he's gone. Ripped away from her, and immediately she sees the reason. Bjorn, growling like the beast he's named for, his face like a storm, promising only death. Guilt threatens to drown her--this is her fault. She should have called him back, grabbed his hand and asked him to stay with her. Weak, she's so weak. She always lets Bjorn walk away from her, and maybe this time she should have stopped him. Should have known it would only cause trouble, for them to both be alone and feeling so torn. The force he used to toss Ubbe away from her is incredible, it's impressive he's even still on his feet.

Ubbe's walking backward, talking, even when his brother's face is promising blood he tries to be reasonable, to ask him what all this is about. Thora has eyes only for the gleaming ax, for Bjorn's white-knuckled grip on its handle. Her green eyes sweep over Ubbe quickly and find him unarmed. Unarmed, with Bjorn's looking like all he wants is to spill Ubbe's blood. Ubbe the patient, Ubbe the kind and reasonable. The first day she met him, she promised to fight alongside him simply because he was a good man. She promised it even before she knew who he was, really, and now it's time to make good on that promise. She's terrified of that ax, at the harm it could to do Ubbe. And it's a strange thing, but she sees the rage and grief in Bjorn's eyes, and knows that somehow, she's tied up in some terrible pain. Ubbe's talking about it even now--does she even know, brother? This kindness in him seems infinite even in the face of violence. Her eyes slide from Ubbe's broad back to Bjorn. Something in her cracks. She remembers the feel of his callused palm against her cheek, the glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before she let him walk away from her, and she knows he won't hurt her. He might kill Ubbe if he can, but he won't hurt her.

Thora uses the pillar to hurtle herself between the brothers, her face a mask of calm although she's screaming inside. The first time she met Bjorn, he told her respect was everything to her. He told her he was iron, and he forged himself. Earlier even that night, he showed her kindness and allowed her a small glimpse at some unspeakable pain. She doesn't understand, not even a little, but she hopes the little pieces she's seen of Bjorn can allow her some small hope at calming the storm in him. She isn't afraid of him, not like she was the first time she met him. She knows Ubbe probably won't let her stay between them for long, but she wants that ax gone before he tries to move her back. "The ax, Bjorn, please." Even as she speaks, she's holding her hand out toward him, asking for him to give her the ax. Her voice is calm and steady, she gives him a small, sad smile. Her bright green eyes are riveted to him and her body is tense, ready to throw herself at him and try to disarm him if she needs to. "Give me the ax, Bjorn, and we'll go outside." She allows a note of pleading to slip into her voice, her green eyes meeting his. They're full of sadness and guilt-two things he's probably feeling right now. She hopes it's enough to get through to him.

Maybe she should have been afraid, facing Bjorn and his ax, but she wasn't, not for herself. She was afraid for Ubbe, knew that his blood would be on her hands if Bjorn hurt him. This is her fault. She knew maybe she shouldn't have let Bjorn walk away, but she's always been so weak when it comes to him. Ubbe makes her feel strong. Only Ubbe's safety could have driven her to face that storm of wrath on Bjorn's face, the grief and the pain and rage in his blue eyes. She holds herself still as Bjorn breathes in deeply, like he's debating throwing the axe past her and right into Ubbe's skull. His hand moves forward and Thora tenses, ready to spring into its path. This is her fault, all her fault, because she's too weak to face Bjorn, to face the past. Thora came to Kattegat to escape her past, to escape the fear of her ex-husband and the memories of the injuries he's done to her. She came to Kattegat to run away, and at every test the gods have placed before her then, she's run away.

The axe skitters to her feet with a loud bang, and Thora releases the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Here is my axe. Bjorn's voice is terrible, raw, and her heart feels like it's breaking. Thora is tired of running, so sick of feeling weak. But do not follow me outside. It's those words that tell her what she has to do. She has no choice. She's let Bjorn walk away from her twice now, and the last time ended in near-disaster. She can't run away anymore, can't let Bjorn just walk away this time.

She watches as Bjorn walks away, toward the doors leading outside. Thora is shaking when she turns back to Ubbe, because she's just now registering how afraid she should have been when she stood between him and his brother. She closes the space between them in one quick step, burying her face against his chest for a moment and just trying to remember how to breathe. He smells so good, smells like leather and ale, and it's so comforting she wants to cry from relief. Ubbe makes her feel secure, makes her feel strong, and she knows she's going to need all the strength she can summon for what she has to do next. "I thought he was going to kill you." Her voice cracks on you, she draws a deep breath and pulls back to smile at him. "And about earlier.... No, I wouldn't have you choose different." She steps back, sadness and guilt all over her face. "I'll find you, after?" She tilts her head, questioning. She isn't even sure Ubbe will want to see her, after she follows Bjorn outside. But she knows she needs to do this, and she'll make it up to Ubbe after, however she needs to. He's too important to her, to not try to make it up to him. "I'm sorry," the whispered apology is out of her lips before she can stop it. She steps back again, back to the Bjorn's discarded axe, and sends a silent prayer up to the gods for sparing Ubbe.

She crouches down and picks up the axe. It's heavier than the ones she carries, and she tries hard not to think about the damage it could have done tonight. She follows Bjorn outside, spotting his massive frame easily in the darkness. She makes a show of inspecting the axe for damage, giving Bjorn a few moments to realize she's followed him even though he told her not to. Finally, she speaks, her voice just as raw as his had been inside. "I couldn't... Couldn't let you walk away from me again, Bjorn." She extends the hand holding the axe toward him, offering him his weapon back again. A sign of trust--she's trusting he won't use it against her, and hoping she made the right choice in following him.

Thora pauses as she hears Bjorn retching, gives him a few moments to himself. She pities him although she's knows he's only sick because he's drunk. She tries to replace the pity with anger, that he would dare to draw his axe on Ubbe, but to her shock she finds that all she wants to do is comfort him. She resists the urge to close the distance between them, to rub his back, try to soothe him. When he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, she starts forward again. In only a few short steps, she's beside him. Bjorn turns to look at her, and his gaze is so heavy she feels like it could force her feet to sink into the soft earth. She doesn't waver, returning his gaze with bright green eyes. There's softness in her eyes, a gentleness she rarely makes use of. Her father was a farmer, she grew up training horses. That farmer's gentleness always lurks beneath the surface, although it's seldom seen. It's hard to remember how to be soft sometimes, when all she wants to be is tough. There's no place for gentleness in a shieldmaiden, but she's drunk and full of a heavy, aching sadness that she doesn't quite understand.

She holds his axe out to him, and feels his words like a blow. You should have stayed inside. His voice was so full of pain it deepened the ache in her chest into something sharper, more insistent, something that felt more like a breaking than an ache. She doesn't answer him, only shrugs with one shoulder as he takes the axe from her. Her hand drops down to hang by her side as he spreads his arms, the axe still clenched in his hand. I have nothing to offer you but misery, Thora. His voice is louder than she expected, and she jumps slightly. Thunder rumbles through the dark night and there he stands before her, arms spread wide, as if he commanded the thunder himself. Maybe it's the ale but in that moment she's so struck by him she can barely breathe. He lowers his arms and the moment of quiet awe passes, but it's an image she's sure will be burned in her memory until her breath stops. In this way you have nothing more to give me but pain.

She's shaking her head in response, her green eyes bright as she meets his blue ones. "Not pain, Bjorn, and not misery. Strength. We give each other strength, I think." She lifts her face toward the sky. She follows his lead, tilting her face to the black sky, wondering why Thor chose that moment when Bjorn took his axe to beat his hammer. She has no talent for discerning the intentions of the gods, but in her drunken state she wonders if it has a special significance. He speaks again, of memories he would prefer to forget, and she lowers her gaze to his face. His expression is softer now. He strokes his fingers gently over her face and she feels the wetness of his blood on her skin, sees the way it glints on his hand in the moonlight. She's surprised he's bleeding, she hadn't seen him hit the shed. Her eyes meet his, unwavering, and the small step she takes toward him is something beyond her control.

And then the softness in his eyes is gone and her cheek is cold where his hands just were. He's ordering her back inside, his tone harsh, a command. Thora's sigh seems to come from her very bones. The same softness is still in her eyes. It got through to him before, maybe it will again. "Let me take care of your hand first, and then I'll go home." She feels like she should offer him a smile, but with that sharp, cracking pain in her chest, she simply can't.

This time Thora isn't surprised by Bjorn, the way his moods change like the shifting of tides. He whispers the word strength back to her and she only nods. It is the thing both of them strive for, the thing that decides who survives. She's survived so far and so has Bjorn, there must be something strong about them. But when Bjorn's face changes, from something so gentle it almost looks like love, to that old familiar anger she's so used to seeing on his face, all she feels is weak. She's failed--failed him, but more importantly, failed herself. Again. She isn't even strong enough to look at him anymore, to face that anger. She wishes she had the strength that seems to come so easily to him, but Thora seems to gain her strength by turning weakness into it. It's a slow, painful process, but it's strength that doesn't fail when she needs it.

And right now, Bjorn is her weakness. She doesn't want him to see it, drops her gaze to the ground and hides her face behind a curtain of hair as he tells her his hand doesn't need caring. The sadness in her right now is crushing, everything made so much worse by the ale, and she doesn't even feel strong enough for her legs to carry her home, never mind following him again. He's going to finally get what he wants, space and time, simply because she isn't strong enough to stand against him anymore. The thought of bending to his will so easily rouses some of the old defiance in her, enough so that she can finally lift her head to his face. Something in his face makes her angry, some small spark that gives her enough strength to at least watch him walk away. She wants to scream at him, to give him a taste of that rage that he seems to always feel toward her, but even drunk she isn't foolish enough to test him again. She feels another cracking somewhere in her chest. Some small, broken sound escapes from her, she's quick to slap a hand against her mouth to try to stifle it.

The sight of him walking away from her--always walking away, and she's letting him although it never leads to anything but trouble--fills her throat with burning. She barely manages to turn in the direction of her house before she vomits. Thora closes her eyes for a moment, wiping her hand across her mouth, and starts off in the direction of her house. All she wants to do is sleep for a lifetime, and maybe she'll finally wake up feeling stronger.