App Sample; the prodigal son returns.
Jul. 11th, 2015 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seekingvinlandThorfinn was sitting on the dock, looking out at the cold water that surrounded Iceland. He had only returned home less than two hours ago and all of that hope had drained away. The hope of being reunited with his family and making amends for not returning sooner. He could hear the others talking behind him. Einar had taken to Leif and his sons so quickly and the other Thorfinn Leif had adopted. Full-Eyes, that's what they were calling the other boy that looked so much like him, but was not him. That Thorfinn deserved to be reunited with his family he had done nothing wrong.
Ylfa hadn't recognized him and she hit him harder than Bear-Drott had. His jaw still ached. He rubbed at his bearded chin thinking about that punch he had received from his older sister. 'She's probably stronger than me.' he thought to himself as he pushed himself up, hearing Leif's voice call out.
Leif had led him home, into the arms of his mother. His mother who did recognize him. He cried in her arms for the first time since Arneis died. The night had gone much quicker for him than the rest. Einar laughed with his mother, while he played with his niece and nephews, but Ylfa returned home and knocked him out.
He woke up on his back near the fire place, a fur blanket draped over him. Sitting up he looked around him and saw his mother sitting near by him, stitching one of the holes in his cloak back closed. "Rest." She spoke softly before he could get off the floor. He shifted looking to the woman who he looked so much like. Thorkell had been right, he did favor his mother in looks. She was a small, sickly woman, but her fair hair and fine features showed the high blood that ran in her, ran in him. Though Ylfa shared his coloring, she had their father's build. She was bigger than him, she was their father's daughter, maybe he was his mother's son after all.
"Mother." He spoke softly as she moved sitting his cloak aside to sit on the floor just behind him, pulling a comb up and she smiled. A silent request which Thorfinn understood, he sat up and let her undo his hair, running the comb through it. He could recall being a boy and her doing the same. Back then he would fidget and eventually run, but now he sat perfectly still. "I can see Thors all over you. The scars on your hands, the way you wear your hair and beard, the way you move like you expect the worst. This isn't what Thors wanted of you, but you are also my son." She spoke softly as she ran the comb through his long hair. "You were never happy being still." She smiled softly before hugging him from behind, laying her head on his shoulder. "Your going to leave again, I know it. I see it in your eyes."
He closed his eyes, lifting a hand to place it on hers. "I have to go, I don't belong here. I love you, I do, I've missed you so. Still, I have to go. I can't stay here. I will explain tomorrow night, I will tell you everything, mother, I swear this to you." He spoke in return squeezing her hands in one of his as he felt her start to cry against his back. He closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry for the pain I have caused you," he said quietly.
"You're alive. That's enough." She spoke through her tears, holding close to him. Minutes turned to hours and sleep overtook him once more, he had been talking to Helga still when he gave into sleep. The last thing he felt was the feeling of her covering him up once more, and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. How could the battlefield have ever meant more than her love?
Ylfa hadn't recognized him and she hit him harder than Bear-Drott had. His jaw still ached. He rubbed at his bearded chin thinking about that punch he had received from his older sister. 'She's probably stronger than me.' he thought to himself as he pushed himself up, hearing Leif's voice call out.
Leif had led him home, into the arms of his mother. His mother who did recognize him. He cried in her arms for the first time since Arneis died. The night had gone much quicker for him than the rest. Einar laughed with his mother, while he played with his niece and nephews, but Ylfa returned home and knocked him out.
He woke up on his back near the fire place, a fur blanket draped over him. Sitting up he looked around him and saw his mother sitting near by him, stitching one of the holes in his cloak back closed. "Rest." She spoke softly before he could get off the floor. He shifted looking to the woman who he looked so much like. Thorkell had been right, he did favor his mother in looks. She was a small, sickly woman, but her fair hair and fine features showed the high blood that ran in her, ran in him. Though Ylfa shared his coloring, she had their father's build. She was bigger than him, she was their father's daughter, maybe he was his mother's son after all.
"Mother." He spoke softly as she moved sitting his cloak aside to sit on the floor just behind him, pulling a comb up and she smiled. A silent request which Thorfinn understood, he sat up and let her undo his hair, running the comb through it. He could recall being a boy and her doing the same. Back then he would fidget and eventually run, but now he sat perfectly still. "I can see Thors all over you. The scars on your hands, the way you wear your hair and beard, the way you move like you expect the worst. This isn't what Thors wanted of you, but you are also my son." She spoke softly as she ran the comb through his long hair. "You were never happy being still." She smiled softly before hugging him from behind, laying her head on his shoulder. "Your going to leave again, I know it. I see it in your eyes."
He closed his eyes, lifting a hand to place it on hers. "I have to go, I don't belong here. I love you, I do, I've missed you so. Still, I have to go. I can't stay here. I will explain tomorrow night, I will tell you everything, mother, I swear this to you." He spoke in return squeezing her hands in one of his as he felt her start to cry against his back. He closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry for the pain I have caused you," he said quietly.
"You're alive. That's enough." She spoke through her tears, holding close to him. Minutes turned to hours and sleep overtook him once more, he had been talking to Helga still when he gave into sleep. The last thing he felt was the feeling of her covering him up once more, and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. How could the battlefield have ever meant more than her love?