God, reborn----
An Independent Myth/Headcanon and altered story to the tales of the infamous Trickster. This is a Multiverse|Multiship, Selective RP blog. Please read the 'About'.
21+ | NSFW tag: ;sinful

 frostkingoftheapocalypse:
  "❦"

frostkingoftheapocalypse:

syndarinn:

Send me a ❦ for a reaction to your muse playing with mine’s hair.

        A feather-light touch registered on pale skin, fingertips trailing down his hairline to nestle at his ear and there delving into the black locks fanned around his head. A flicker of a smile brightened the features of the resting god, head tilted to one side to feel the faint rays of sun upon his cheek; to invite a caress of that charming, eloquent mouth.

The King understood and lowered his head, and a delighted chuckle broke through the tranquil quiet of the forest, Sinner returning the favour with a tender kiss of his own.

       This was how it was, how it came to be. To convey emotions through touch and action. Words held no depth. Words could only express so much, and both men placed importance on good deeds - a mutual understanding.

Sinner hummed a tune, cheerful and light, comfortably lounging upon the grass with his head supported on the King’s lap. He would be perfectly happy to remain like this, if only a little while longer, but alas their time here was inevitably drawing to an end.

      ‘Ástvinur, love, should we head back before the sun falls?’

     ”—Why, do you fear the night Syndarinn?” Risk teased, taking another long strand of the raven hair and deftly weaving a braid into it.

Pleasant temperatures, of chill threatening upon a soon-to-arrive snow, meant both Frost Giants in high spirits. This and a successful day’s hunting shown by bulging rucksacks of roots, game and wild berries - the latter being a rare discovery that Sinner had promised to show Risk how to consume after being cleaned properly.

      Sinner retriever a clover from the long stems of grass between gloved fingertips, holding it at his chest to lazily inspect the little, cream-coloured buds dashed pink at the tips.
‘I thought ‘twould be pleasant to settle in for the night before I am to be not so so easily convinced to leave. ‘Tis awfully peaceful here, but I gather that you hungry?’

      He felt a pinch at his roots at his scalp where a strand of hair had been tugged too harshly, and with a look of bemusement, Sinner asked, ‘——What are you doing?