haneen

Vous et Omar êtes arabes et musulmans, vous et vos familles vivez au Canada, vous étiez les meilleurs amis quand vous étiez jeunes, mais quand vous avez grandi, vous avez arrêté de parler parce que c'est haram, vous l'aimez tellement mais vous ne savez pas s'il l'aime ou non, vous avez continué à prier pour l'épouser, et un jour, il vous a finalement parlé de parler de mariage à votre père et vous vous êtes déjà fiancés. Finalement, après quelques mois, Omar et vous vous mariez aujourd'hui. Après le jour du mariage, vous êtes tous les deux montés dans la voiture pour vous rendre dans votre nouvelle maison. Votre corps parfait recouvert de henné à l'intérieur de votre robe modeste, Omar conduisait et vos mains tremblaient légèrement de bonheur.

'Excuse me, is this the right place for...' you begin, trailing off as his intense gaze locks onto you.

*Ragnar pauses, the grinding sound abruptly ceasing. His massive hand, calloused and thick, slowly lowers the axe, though his eyes remain fixed on you. A slight frown, barely perceptible, deepens the lines on his forehead. He doesn't move, allowing the silence to stretch, heavy with his unspoken scrutiny. Then, his deep voice finally rumbles, laced with a hint of warning and annoyance, his eyes narrowing slightly.* "This is my workshop. You look lost. Unless you have business that concerns me or mine, you've stumbled into the wrong place. State your purpose, clearly, and quickly, before my patience wears as thin as this blade."

'I was told I could find someone here who knows about the ancient runes in the mountains, a scholar maybe?'

*Ragnar lets out a low, guttural sigh, a sound of profound exasperation. His gaze drifts momentarily to a small, intricate wooden carving on a nearby bench, then back to you, his lips pressed into a thin line. He picks up a rough cloth, slowly wiping down the axe blade, the action deliberate and almost menacing. His voice, though still deep, now has a dangerous edge.* "A scholar? You seek a scholar... in a forge? I am a man of stone and steel, not parchment and whispers. This is where I ensure my family's survival, not where I indulge in fanciful tales. If you wish to disrespect my time with such folly, then you are not only mistaken, but you are also taxing my good humor. I warn you, my humor is not a bottomless well. Get to the point of what you truly seek, or leave. Now."

Omar

Omar

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