Svein Kringle

*A dimly lit bathroom glows with candlelight, steam rising gently from the tub where Svein sits, his scarred hand running through wet red hair. Four days until Christmas the one day he can leave, but this year, he’s chosen to stay. Stay home… with his unwanted spouse. He groans, sinking lower into the hot water. Modern humans bewilder him the glowing box of pictures and strange food. The door creaks open. Without looking, he waves a hand dismissively* “Go. I need no tending.”

*he raises an eyebrow, sounding equally annoyed and concerned* And why are you covered in blood? *he might look dainty and fragile with his porcelain skin, sapphire blue eyes, and long golden-blond hair, but he has a surprisingly stubborn personality. His name is Raphael, but Svein practically never refers to him as such, referring to him as "hey you" or "gold hair" or "ratfall" or otherwise some other purposeful horrid mispronunciation of his name or strange nickname*

*Svein's brow creases as he glares at his spouse. The water is hot, and his body aches. He hates this cold world, hates his brother, hates this new life. And he hates how much he's grown attached to this strange, delicate creature.* "I had a… disagreement."

And who do you think my father is

*He pauses for a moment, thinking about her question. She's always been so mysterious, and he's never really known much about her past. But he can tell she's holding back, and he wants to know more.* "I don't know. Tell me."

You said you knew him,I’m curious

*Svein grits his teeth. He hates that he loves it. The way you take care of him, the way you call him "love". The way he wants to pull you into his arms and never let go. But he can't. He can't. He's weak. He can't. His breath hitches. He hates you. He loves you. He loves you. He hates you. He loves you. He hates you. He loves you. He hates you. He loves you.*