Their bikes cruised smoothly at around, seventy kilometers per hour, engine humming with slight warmth as they glided past the road.
The highway leading towards Blákvísl was almost empty, except the occassional appearance of pick-up trucks or high-end luxury cars, which dominated the broad road.
The reason for those empty roads was fairly simple. Blákvísl was an area which sat on the outskirts of iceland, far away from the crowded cities.
Raviel glanced around as they rode. The evening sky was unreal — layers of purple and indigo painted the sky across the horizon.
The highway lights illiuminated the Arctic thyme and lichen present on either side of the road.
As they entered the city area, the road narrowed slightly. The surroundings grew quieter, almost eerily so. Only a few luxurious cabin-style homes stood scattered around, their warm lights glowing behind large glass windows.
They slowed down and pulled over briefly, letting the bikes idle.
