Trying to Find My Way Back Home [Ems]

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c);linear-gradient(top, #4e4828, #5c312a, #302b2f, #7b8086, #444d6c); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"] It is nice to see Ivar smile a bit, to see something more than the blank, emotionless face he likes to project. Even if it is only temporary, I’m glad I could brighten his day for just a single moment. He comments about how spears could be deadly weapons, but then goes on to draw what he likes to use. Ivar isn’t very artistic as he attempts to draw a straight line. He gets the message across though, as I can clearly tell that it is an axe, and it looks like it could be a big one at that. He talks about how he enjoys it, even though it’s not everyone’s first choice. And I can understand, everyone who trains to fight has their own preferred style. I’m not sure what mine is yet, I just know that it is easy for me to use a trident as it is what I’ve grown up using. Instead of fish, I’m just stabbing another human being, as horrendous as that sounds.

I can see Ivar downcast his gaze after I ask my question, and he brings back Lorenzo. It sounds like he could relate to him when he brings up the fact that Lorenzo only wanted to bury his friend. A luxury I have been lucky to afford. Even in these past few years have when my classmates Mordecai and Scout died. I never really considered myself close with them, so I didn’t feel the pain that others felt at their burial. Yet Ivar has had so see many of his own go back into the earth. Ivar just last year had to bury Torka, and many more years before that. This is something that I know I can never relate to Ivar on, and it pains me knowing that there may not be much I can do to help him. My gaze drops down from his face, unsure of what to do in this situation, unsure on how we would react to certains words. As much as my own family has been trained and groomed to chase glory, none of us has actually done it before. No one until me. Yet I have seen many Hammerfells go chasing glory in death, welcoming the feeling of being reaped, or sometimes volunteering for the Games when they felt ready. I know that there is nothing that I can do, but only be there in any capacity that he needs me to be in.

“I’m sorry,” is my only response, my voice full with sorrow. I hope that he will understand where I am coming from, and I hope I have said the right things for him to understand that I am only trying to console him. We sit there for a moment, just sitting in this feeling of uncomfortableness. No one ever said that this would be fun. He is the first to break the silence by asking me if I could help him across the pool, hoping to find something useful. A glint forms within my eyes, knowing that I can turn this situation into something more, playful if I wanted to. And even though I have thought about this before, it was definitely not within the context of trying to help the poor bastard swim. Plus it would be a good excuse to get all of the blood off of his hands.

“Yeah I can help you out, are comfortable with just wearing shorts or would you rather keep your clothes on?” I ask him, not wanting him to make him uncomfortable. When he states that he would like to keep his clothes on, I have him crawl on over to the edge of the pool, and I help to carry him in. I put one underneath his chest, and my other goes directly below his hips, I help keep him afloat the best I can, even though his heavy, blood soaked clothes weighs him down a good bit. It would definitely be easier if he was just wearing shorts. I still feel the muscles of his chest underneath his sweater as I have practice a breast stroke. His arms brush against mine as he does his strokes, I can feel them flexing against mine, and I am very grateful that he can't turn his head to see how red my face is right now. Once he has the hang of it, we start to move across the pool, I am still carrying his thighs and he does a decent job of keeping his torso afloat, I still can't help but notice the muscles along his torso. I let my hand float down, feeling the strength of his abdomen as he continues his strokes, ensuring that he doesn’t need help keeping himself afloat.

I bring my hand back up to his chest as we get closer to the edge, my legs kicking to keep myself afloat. Once we get to the edge I left him up, helping Ivar get back onto the decently dry walkway. He is soaking wet, trying to crawl around in damp, heavy clothing, and we don’t have any towels near by. Why didn’t I think that through. I lean against the edge, wiping off the remainder of blood from his face.

“There you go, now you’re all cleaned up.” I try to crack a joke as a crooked, timid grin plays across my lips as I chuckle. I am still trying to think on how we are going get dry, then I remember the bathrobes that had found.

“I’ll be right back I have to go grab our stuff., take a look around and see if you find anything ok?” I don’t fully wait for a response as I start on my way back. Even though we were the only two in the pool, I’m not sure if anyone else had made their way into the area. I come back to find an axe, and a trident sitting the rest of our gear. They look very similar to the ones that we drew as well. I am very confused as to where they came from, but I manage to fit everything into our bags, while I strap on the axe and trident onto my back and make my way back. I end up finding Ivar again, and I manage to keep almost everything decently dry, if not a little damp as I put everything onto the walkway.

“Did you find anything useful?” I ask him as I slighty poke his tummy with the hilt of his axe.