![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ragnarsson[Whoever's memory you've ended up in, it's clearly set a long time ago. The village and the people in it both look archaic. Some children play a ball game that has no set rules besides tossing it from person to person. But there's one little fellow not playing. Instead, he's sitting off to the side, learning runes from a man with kohl smeared around his eyes.
Then he looks out rather longingly at the game.]
Ivar, do you want to play?
[His mother asks. Yep, this is Ivar, age five, still small and adorable, not quite angry at the world yet. He's taken out in a wagon, but children are thoughtless at the best of times, and this bunch is no exception. They have no time for the little cripple in their midst who can't keep up. Finally, tired of seeing him left behind, the man with kohl around his eyes, Floki, yanks the ball away, and gives it to Ivar.
( Cw: violent child death )
Then he looks out rather longingly at the game.]
Ivar, do you want to play?
[His mother asks. Yep, this is Ivar, age five, still small and adorable, not quite angry at the world yet. He's taken out in a wagon, but children are thoughtless at the best of times, and this bunch is no exception. They have no time for the little cripple in their midst who can't keep up. Finally, tired of seeing him left behind, the man with kohl around his eyes, Floki, yanks the ball away, and gives it to Ivar.
( Cw: violent child death )
