hellenistic-beauty sent: ... Your sons requested that I give you advice on the subject of parenting.
I needn’t any parenting advice in the least.
You may go now and please, ignore my sons.
They’re thinking ridiculously if they believe me to need lessons from another on anything.
And I’ll be active here again.
I might make some IC posts later today or tomorrow after work.
Thanks, everyone, for your kind messages. They helped))
Death in the family and it’s been hitting me pretty damn hard.
I’m still taking a break from Scandia, but I hope to pull myself together enough to come back soon.
Miss you all and I’ll see you whenever))
Who in Odin’s great name are you?
…And why do I feel as though you bear a great resemblance to another I have met? Almost a sour sort of nostalgia or deja vu.
You bear the same air as that Southern oaf.
Whoy don’t’cha intraduce ya’self first ‘fore demandin’ it from others?
Great resemblance? “Sour sort”? Thah hell ya goin’ on ‘bout? I don’t know ya, an’ ya sure as -
…Southern oaf? -His expression suddenly turned colder than it had already been, due to fact that this man was of the North, the Outback man hadn’t been pleased with the look of him right at the start.- Ya bettah not be talkin’ ‘bout mah son.
/Scandia grimaced and hissed under his breath, arms locking crossed over his chest/ By the sounds of that atrocious accent of yours, I would say I assumed correctly. As if that earthy smell coming from you were not enough. Yes, I was talking about that awful son of yours.
I doubt you would be able to do much to me even with the knowledge of my clear disdain for that insufferable pest you might call offspring. He had been nothing but an absolute irritant to me since my return. But, if there is anyone better to ask than a father figure, I have yet to guess who - Might I have you push that earlier comment of mine aside to request of you something?
I am sure all of the world would appreciate you returning that ignorant boy of yours back to your island and away from my son, and keeping him there.
Who in Odin’s great name are you?
…And why do I feel as though you bear a great resemblance to another I have met? Almost a sour sort of nostalgia or deja vu.
You bear the same air as that Southern oaf.
/His face remained still and stoic, only eyes showing a slight sliver of interest in the fellow ancient’s actions./ Is that so? Well, how lucky of you to had been able to have such a thing remain so… Untouched throughout these many years.
/He almost marveled at the building, though his focus grew thin and he turned once again to his Roman company./
It has been treating me quite awfully compared to how it seems to have been you. You have adjusted quite well, haven’t you? /His expression fell as he took a seat on the remaining chair and took the other can for himself./
It is almost frustrating. Just how in the world have you done it?
I was thinking that too. It was comforting to have some solace upon crawling out of your grave in the middle of the twenty-first century.
-knocks one back, swallowing hard as he still isn’t a fan of beer; but it seemed like Scandia wouldn’t much appreciate fruity wines. A sweeping glance to the left which had pegged the blonde as a focal point foreshadowed the appearance of a private little smile.-
Cultural immersion.
-That, followed by a wink-
Joking aside, I had quite a bit of help. I have many sons, daughters, and grandchildren who were more than happy to help me assimilate. -Rome paused, reading between the lines of what it was he might be saying-
…If you would like, I’ve always some time to spare to help an old friend out. If it is friend that you indeed consider me.
-chuckles, bringing his legs up onto the chair and loosening his tie-
Hm. I am quite sure it was. Shame I was not given the chance at seeing many of my own past objects and homes standing in such a condition. Many of which that might have been considered livable in this day and age with a few alterations have long since been demolished, burnt down, or simply decayed as Mother Nature may have seen fit.
/Red eyes flickered down to the can in his own hand, stabbing his index finger through the thin metal rather than even attempting the opening part at the top. He had done attempted to open it the traditional, intended way, only to have his attempts end in the flimsy piece snapping in two or the beverage had sprayed in his face. He was fed up with it and went with a simpler, more comfortable approach. Pulling his finger from the makeshift hole, he moved to take a dragged out drink from the beer. The taste wasn’t anything on his tongue, but it felt pleasant to have some sort of alcohol in his system, no matter how light or ineffective it was./
Your family has always been rather supportive of you, have they not? You are a lucky man.
And I would hardly refer to the two of us as anything near “friends”, but I will not lie about how troublesome this experience has been. I am not a man that adjusts well to such drastic lifestyle changes, and my eldest has been the only one that has given me any assistance at all; all of which has been cold and distant. He and I are far from close.
My eldest daughter offered her home to me, seeming to do so with open arms, but I would rather not do so. If I were to choose, I would want to die again and stay so, like I was intended to be.
…Moving from that subject for a split moment, I must ask something of you, Romulus, if I may? I am rather curious of what your take on this may be.
1 month ago | 248 notes
Source: nightxade
/Scandia didn’t question the other’s year-appropriate slang, as he just brushed it off and continued walking and tailing the other. He kept silent, excluding the rough breathing through his nostrils and past his lips from his throat, previously damaged beyond repair. The sound was scratchy, almost irritatingly so, but the Norseman was far past used to it
Upon arriving at the Roman’s abode, his face tightened in attentiveness. Crimson eyes shot from one artifact to another, mouth crooked./
…Hm. Rather fancy a home you have for yourself, Romulus. Though, I must have been mistaken. I had thought we would be going to a tavern of sorts.
-Rome made nothing of it, expecting nothing more from a nation as old as, if not older than he was and the recipient of a countless number of battles. It was then that the brunette turned to look at the other man, smile ever present as he disappeared behind the heavy, reinforced doors to retrieve a six-pack-
It’s the very same building I used to live in when the Republic was established. Surprising enough as it was that the thing was still standing when we came back to life.
-he lowered the drinks onto a table sitting between two lawn chairs, reclining on one afterward and popping the cap on a sweating can-
So,
how has the contemporary world been treating you?
/His face remained still and stoic, only eyes showing a slight sliver on interest in the fellow ancient’s actions./ Is that so? Well, how lucky of you to had been able to have such a thing remain so… Untouched throughout these many years.
/He almost marveled at the building, though his focus grew thin and he turned once again to his Roman company./
It has been treating me quite awfully compared to how it seems to have been you. You have adjusted quite well, haven’t you? /His expression fell as he took a seat on the remaining chair and took the other can for himself./
It is almost frustrating. Just how in the world have you done it?
Delicious? What in the world does that even mean?
/he stares at the back of the other’s head in utter disgust, appalled by the use of phrases he was almost sure the Roman would know he wouldn’t understand/
Beer is not as bad as I had first thought it might be, though it is not as strong as I would like. I don’t mind the taste, but I am not too picky with my alcohol… As long as it is not so light it feels weak on my tongue, I will more than likely enjoy it.
-It didn’t hit him that Scandia probably hadn’t been lugged around by his sons who were constantly teaching him how to be “hip”, so he continued on down his usual manner of speaking-
Then we can go out for that. -although he hasn’t quite gotten around to liking beer himself.-
-Instead of bringing the blonde out to a bar of some sort, Romulus leads him over to a villa that could only belong to the Roman; decked out in all sorts of artifacts that would certainly sell well to a a museum-
/Scandia didn’t question the other’s year-appropriate slang, as he just brushed it off and continued walking and tailing the other. He kept silent, excluding the rough breathing through his nostrils and past his lips from his throat, previously damaged beyond repair. The sound was scratchy, almost irritatingly so, but the Norseman was far past used to it
Upon arriving at the Roman’s abode, his face tightened in attentiveness. Crimson eyes shot from one artifact to another, mouth crooked./
…Hm. Rather fancy a home you have for yourself, Romulus. Though, I must have been mistaken. I had thought we would be going to a tavern of sorts.
bloodiestofhands started following you
” ‘allo. Ta fer th’ follow back”
“…Yes, hello. I thank you for the welcome. Though, I was merely returning the favor.”
