From afar, peaks of a mountain jutted up into the clouds. A mixture of greys and blues are painted together around a singular waterfall. Crashing down to the earth below, all one hears is the thunder of its course. A quiet lashing of wind whips at your cheeks as you squint to see closer. Through the sparse cover of evergreen trees, a flash of gold catches your attention. There was something there, there was no denying it. Moving in to see the area surrounding the waterfall, one emerges from the fog. Silent steps carried the being closer to the cliff that paraded the river of water over the edge. Two piercing blue eyes blink slowly as if they had all the time in the world.

One could not say they had ever seen something such as this before. Sturdy legs like the trees surrounding her held up a body made for these perilous conditions. Covering her form that is bulky for a female, her fur blends into the slate beneath her. Breathing slowly, calculating each breath to move in time with her steps, she holds still now at the edge. Peering down to the valley below, she is alone. She knows she is alone. So terribly alone in this world. Made for the chilling temperatures of the terrain, she lets her eyes close for a moment to take it all in.

This world is new to her. Crossing the ocean on tumultuous waters with revenge scorning her heart, she seeks out restitution. No longer did she believe to hold a love for others around her. They were all traitors to her and none were to be trusted. Everything she had built was gone. Burned to a fiery crisp where she alone stood upon the rubble of her life. They had taken everything from her and now it was her turn to do the same.

Opening her eyes once more, she takes a few steps back from the ledge. As the wind continues to ruffle her coat, she turns to walk over to the water that so readily rushes to leap over. One might have thought she'd jump, but she had more to do. Life was far from over and she was ready to face it all. Taking a few laps of that near-freezing water to dampen her dry throat, one ear does flick to the side. Was someone there? Lifting her antlered crown to look, she waits for the stranger to show themself.

It wasn't uncommon for Víðarr to lose himself in his thoughts. Especially after his recent conversation with his sister, his head was loud. There was planning to be done. He'd secure them a home, and he'd do it in the biggest way possible. They had to build their strength, choose a target, take over... and all the small things too. Ideas of calling themselves a band first. That... and would they even accept him as their leader? Víðarr is confident that they'll put their trust in him. The valkyrie had the same confidence. If they didn't then... well, he'd sort that out after. He'd need to speak to the craftsman that lived within the mountains nearby, and he'd need to sort out payment for the things that he'd request. Keeping track of the mental list was a lot, but it was fine. Víðarr mumbled to his dog as he walked, speaking in hushed tones. For his part, Fisk nodded as he plodded alongside the shadow. The shock that he understood every word was one they could save for another day, preferably when Víðarr's Finnish was less absolute shit. It was safe to say the behemoth of a man wasn't paying the most attention as they walked. He was too busy thinking, too busy sorting out all of the things that were swirling about in his head. Arm rings. He'd have arm rings made by the craftsmen, and they'd be beautiful. Hopefully his family would like them, tailored as they were to each aesthetic. For the valkyrie, something plain and stark. For the priestess, something ornamental and decorated in the marks of their gods. For his angry, ruddy sister, something that was as bold as she. Yes, it would do him well. As he walked and spoke with his companion, he didn't realize how far south they were getting. The sun was far more full here, and Víðarr was reminded how little he cared for the warmth. Midsummer. The thought spawns a sting at the back of Víðarr's throat. It would be about time for the festival. A dull ache coursed through the shadow's chest. The festivals were the best thing about being at home, really. They'd go all out, drinking and partying and laughing the nights away. There were hunts, feasts, music-- all of it. The whole nine yards. Others travelled far and wide to join them, and it was a designated ceasefire. No serious fighting. No politics. They could all simply enjoy each other. Those days felt far away now. While Víðarr initially missed the flash of gold through the trees, Fisk stiffened. The dog went from relaxed to alert in a breathless moment. The shadow peered carefully at his dog before tracking his gaze through the trees. They certainly weren't alone out here. Still, he'd tracked in this direction to drink from the river that fed the waterfall itself, and a little unexpected company wasn't going to prevent that. His intended direction didn't change, nor did his pace. The woman came into view as he broke the treeline, and Víðarr offered a polite nod, a gentle smile. She was on the opposite side of the river. Víðarr was comfortable that he wasn't getting too close. The shadow still didn't know what to say in moments like this. Social graces aren't his strong suit, but at least he knows better than to stare. She was regal, grey and golden. That, and she was awfully pretty. But Víðarr would push those thoughts from his head for now, as he lowered his muzzle to the cool water to take a long drink. Fisk has other ideas, splashing into the slow moving water on confident feet. It was enough to kick up a great deal of excess water, sending it back on his master. "Helvete," he swore, taking a step back and tossing his head to shake the water from his eyes. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Everything from the slightest rustle in the grass to the flap of wings on a gust of air, her ears heard it. Acutely attuned to the world around her, she was on edge. This place was foreign to her. She had not an idea how docile or aggressive the creatures in this land would be and thus she had to stay guarded. Holding still like a statue built for gods, her eyes watched the treeline. A slight breeze fluttered against her face as she caught the scent of two canines, both very different from each other. One was familiar like her, but the other smelled more like a mongrel. At least, that is what they were called back home.

Letting the last few droplets of water fall from her lips as she waited, it would not take but a few moments for them to appear. The behemoth of a shadow emerged with a lingering glance in her direction. Tenshi's face does not falter. Still and regal, she holds her head high with ears pressed forward. She watches him in silence as he approaches the river to drink from the other side. At first, she thought they would move on after getting a drink as she can notice the ruffled fur of the dog accompanying him. Yet, they don't.

In an instant, her own coat is ruffled around her shoulders as the dog crashes into the water with a spray careening onto the shore. Taking one step back, she lightly lifts one lip in a minute show of emotion that she is displeased. It had been serene here until they had arrived. Flicking her tail over her haunches, she continues to watch, but nothing happens. There is no sudden advancement toward her. Just a wolf and his dog. Hm, what was she to do? Continuing to watch, she keeps her distance.

Everything feels still around her as she watches them. The birds have gone silent, the wind has died down, and even the rush of water is dulled in comparison to her senses. Should she risk interacting with the shadowed stranger for information? He didn't look familiar to her kind or one from her homeland so could he possibly have an answer? Doubt grew in her as she hesitated. She had to start somewhere...

"Oi," Tenshi calls out, voice gruff from unuse and years of wear. Her eyes blink a few times as her lips open to speak again. Wait, no, there wasn't a chance that anyone here would speak her language. How was she supposed to speak the common tongue again? It had been so long since she'd had to use it. Taking a step toward the water's edge while she tried to unfold the confusion of words in her brain, she blinks one more time. "Where is this place?" Her thick accent is slow and determined to say words the man will understand. Staying frozen with water barely lapping at her toes, she waits to see if he'll respond.

Built for gods, they both were. Still, two different gods. Víðarr would largely embody his namesake, and he always had. He was vengeance, tall dark and handsome. Riding in and taking control swiftly, mercilessly. No quarter drawn. Swift, violent, deadly... but only when you need to be. Vengeance was tempered with mercy. In reality, he's both and he's neither. The touch of the gods ran through him, bright and hot. They'd smiled upon him, and Víðarr was devout. The shadow couldn't help it. Since arriving here, they'd smiled upon not only him, but Iðunn as well. The pair were close in all things, both devout believers. The priestess had an edge, of course, but it didn't escape the shadow's notice that he'd grown. It wasn't by any small degree either. It was a sign. That, combined with Iðunn's run-in with the deer gods? Well, it was clear they were trying to tell the Trygg family something. Had he been a messenger? Was it Eikþyrnir, come to point them in the direction they were meant to go? The omen still hung around Víðarr's shoulders and troubled his thoughts. For now, all they could do was speculate. It was comforting to think about. One man's mongrel is another's extraordinarily well trained and developed hunting dog, but it made sense. Hund they called them, more broadly. Karjalankarhukoira, in Víðarr's broken Finnish. He'd get as far as he could on that. The creature had a mischief about him, one that Víðarr had yet to fully harness. Still, there was no harm in a little fun. Still, the woman's words shattered the looking glass that had formed within his thoughts. It pulled him back down to earth. She spoke as the skjaldmær did, her voice strong and hearty. It was the sort of voice that was more fit for giving orders, for shouting, than it was for casual conversation. Víðarr could relate to that. Relate too, he did, to the way that she sifted through words as she spoke. Her accent wasn't familiar to him, and he takes a moment to process it. With a paw, he stills his companion from his momentary ruckus. Where is this place? Where was an interesting question, as most wheres were relative. Still, the shadow speaks as clearly as he can through the dense accent that colors his words. "North, on the continent called Boreas." Okay, that's a start. "It is called Waterfall Peak," right, hence the... waterfall. Víðarr's tone remains neutral, though he takes this as an excuse to study the woman. The shadow lacks subtlety. "Who are you?" A question of his own-- an eye for an eye. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

Tenshi continues to watch the man as he registers her question. The dog beside him stills quickly and that she is thankful for. Weariness aches in her bones from travel and she isn't quite ready to start mauling harmless creatures. Her own eyes flicker over to his gaze as they stand there facing each other. One on either side of the river as if the world spanned between them. It would be so easy to leap across the distance and protect herself if need be. This she makes sure of as her eyes flit away to glance at the river. The depths of the water aren't quite shallow, but nothing compared to the mighty rivers she's seen before. Its narrow width leading up to the falls is a surprise compared to how tremendous the falls are. Strange how nature provided for itself.

As his own deeply rooted accent responds to her, Tenshi looks back over and meets his gaze. His lack of subtly is not lost on her as she quirks a brow. Was she something to look at? Her beauty was never anything she'd registered. Other things in life were more important to worry about. Deep down, Tenshi knew she was what others would call a "head-turner," but that usually got a scoff out of her in response. Romance was for fools.

Mulling over his words about what this place was called almost did make her scoff. Waterfall Peak. What a bland name to call something so obvious. That was nothing compared to the majestic titles the mountains had back home. Her heart pined for her origins and the fire in her belly blossomed. One day, she would get her revenge, but it would have to wait. The man had asked who she was. Now, that was a question she considered whether or not she should truly answer. Holding her stare still on the man, her eyes blink slowly and let the silence spread between them. Hastiness would not do in such situations.

She contemplated at first to give him a fake name. Would it do any harm if he knew it or not? In case the family she sought out heard of her being here, she didn't want any rumors to spread. Yet, by the sound of his accent, there wasn't any conceivable way that he would know. Surely not. "Yama Tenshi," the woman clad in gold and grey finally speaks in her deeper feminine tone. A name fit for a warrior and a mother. One who was kind but stern. Ruthless and forgiving all in two words. "And you?" Tenshi asks, her chilly voice reaching once again across the river in hopes for some secret questions to be answered. His name would tell her all she needed to know on whether she could trust him or not.

Víðarr was well aware that his dog was a bit... much sometimes. Active. They could both be a bit much... maybe that was why they suited each other. They said that dogs would start to look like their owners after a while, and he was wondering if that would happen with Fisk. Both of them were strong creatures. A strength that lived in their bones. A strength that kept them whole, and kept them wonderful. The pair was truly brilliant together. As the woman looked at him, it nearly felt like she was looking straight through him. It was maybe a bit unsettling, being sized up by a stranger like this. Still, it's not the most unpleasant feeling. Víðarr's lack of subtlety is something that's maybe a bit impolite, but ah, it happens. She was quite beautiful. Quite beautiful, but he wouldn't let that be a sticking point. If the valkyrie was any hint, beauty wasn't everything. The fiercest warriors were some of the most beautiful in their own right. So beautiful, and that's not even the half of it. The shadow would chase those thoughts from his head. Yama Tenshi-- not only was she not from here, she was very much not from here. It sounded like she came from far away, though a different sort of far away than the Trygg family. A name fit for a warrior, he would agree to that. The shadow knows not what a name fit for a mother would sound like. Still, he knows the woman that bore his elder sister was both... and was not unlike the woman that stood before him. Maybe it would do them well to meet, some day far in the future. As with all things, if the fates willed it, it would be. And you? Ah yeah, he should tell her. "Víðarr Trygg." The words were brief, his accent rolling through each r sound. It played much more easily in the syllables of his own name, the words that hailed from his mother tongue. He stands on the other side of the river, not wanting to close the gap. That would be too much, too soon. "It seems you are..." he trailed off, scowling for a moment as he looked for the right words. "It seems you are seeking something." Víðarr sorts out the words, though offers an apologetic glance. Small talk bored him, and he didn't care for it. Instead, he'd share his observation, even if voicing it wasn't the easiest. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

His name does not ring a bell in her knowledge of history. No such Tryggs had ever wandered the land of her home. If they had, they were foreigners and most likely unwelcome. She was not ignorant to other lands that stretched beyond her's and this one she stood upon. There was a long history holding many different traditions out there that she had no idea of. While she was not opposed to learning as knowledge held more power than anything, that was not the point of her trip. Tenshi was not here to explore and figure out the wonders of the world. She was here for bloodshed.

Nodding curtly back to him in acceptance for being given his name, her eyes never leave him. Perhaps she was looking straight through him to the realms of the beyond. It was not unlike of her to appear so unsettling to others. The way she stood tall and poised, head high and tail gently swishing behind her, she was fit to be sculpted into a statue. Every muscle in her body was tense and ready for whatever came her way. Relaxation was saved for rainy days and playing with pups. Today was not one of those days.

As the sun continued to bake into the fur along her back, she watched as he attempted to get the question out. The way his face contorted with a hint of an apology did not phase her. "Perhaps," her stony voice replies as her lips firmly close again. Allowing the silence to fall back between them, she wonders again if it was necessary for her to give him. While he was a titan of a man clothed in shadows, much like that of her type, her distrust in strangers ran high. "If you do not have answers I seek, I have no information to give," she held determination in her tone as she took a few steps into the ice-cold water.

The sting that shocked up her legs kept her in this reality. Her mind was beginning to stray off from her mission. Her heart ached for everything she missed and more. Still shattered into a thousand pieces, it was taking longer to put it back together than she hoped. She was a family sort of woman. One who was used to tending to the young and protecting the old. Adjusted to always having someone near her for companionship, this new life was painful. Resistant to falling into quick and stupid situations, she felt her guard hold up ever higher. There was no ill intent in her motions as she slowly began to cross the divide between them. Whether she knew she was doing it or not was beyond her. Her body moved on its own accord as her nose inhaled his scent deeply.

He is only but an inch taller than her so there's no need for her to look up at him. Their gazes would meet eye to eye as her own runs over his midnight figure. Still standing in the shallows of the shore on his side, her paws stop and her breath inhales deeply. It took every ounce of her to hold back every emotion that ran through her being. "I seek revenge for my family on a family I do not even know is here," her tone drops an octave, an almost sort of throaty growl as she fights to find the words in the common tongue. Why she decided to tell him the truth now was beyond her. Maybe it was the fact that she had drawn nearer to him and her mind wanted her so badly to give in. Being so close to someone after being alone for so long made the real animal in her whine. Holding herself back from whatever was going on inside the fire of her belly, she finally lets the silence overcome them once more.

Viðarr listened closely as she spoke. Her words were cryptic where they hung between them, but he's not surprised. The silence that stretched between them wasn't even uncomfortable. They are strangers occupying the same space, the same time. No more and no less. There's no need for words, at least not more words. Pleasant enough, and certainly not a threat. No, he could go about his business for now, in her presence. Viðarr peered carefully at the tracks of an animal near the riverbed, breathing deeply. They were recent, or, recent enough. The scat that lay beside it, too, was recent enough. It seemed that there were moose in this area, and they returned frequently. Their preferred forage, too, had been mowed short with blunt teeth. Still, the exact number of hoofprints was a bit curious. Strange. Viðarr took mental note, and would be on his guard... like he was ever off it. "What is your question?" The words are slow, and Viðarr is stately a she speaks. Curious. Ever curious. Vengeance. She sought revenge for her family. For a genuine moment, the shadow's heart aches for her. She speaks in the same way Sanngriðr does on the mention of her mother. Viðarr himself is the god of vengeance. The look in his icy gaze isn't one of pity, no. It's a deep understanding, one that runs to the core. Vengeance is what he understands, better than anything else. It makes sense to him. He takes a moment, studying this Yama Tenshi. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.

He did not seem unphased by her approach as she now stood mere inches from him. The way his eyes darted over the landscape to examine recent animal tracks nearly perturbed her. Was she not intimidating? A force to be reckoned with? Did he not see how much power and strength she carried? How through her elegance and poise, she was a threat to any who crossed her path? Flicking both ears back, she watches him look back at her. The way his own gaze assesses her the same way she did to him. Two beings from different worlds meet as gods did in the heavens. Stoic and calm, able to shove down any feelings that rose inside. The same feelings that made them mortal.

What she wanted was to feel alive. To feel emotion, comfort, savagery, anything but this absolutely frigid cold that was encased around her heart. She wanted to feel alive. The long game was her revenge, but her body cried out for something to bide the time until then. Had he asked a question? He wanted to know her question. Would it even matter now? Standing there, ankle-deep in freezing mountain water as the feeling slowly faded from her paws, she wondered. It wasn't companionable silence that stretched between them, but silence only two such as themselves would be comfortable with. Any other sort of weaker being would be squirming by now, yearning to run away from the tension.

Perhaps that is what bothered her now. Or made her insides rile up, twisting into seething monsters. This shadowed man simply did not flinch at her presence and somehow that made her more attracted to him. Yet, she couldn't stray from her path. Revenge. Sweet, blissful, bloody revenge. Letting her eyes close for a brief moment, she inhaled deeply his scent once more. Forests, pine, a sweet underlying note of honey, and even a husky note of smokey leather. How lovely it would be to sink her claws into him and feel vulnerable. Emotions flooded her like a tidal wave on a shore, crashing over her in an overwhelming sense. Fighting desperately to keep herself afloat, she lets her eyes open to meet his bold stare.

"I search for the family by name of Hattori," her voice is a strained rasp as she finally spits the words out. "I will take my time to scout these lands, but I one day must seek out my revenge," Tenshi whispers hoarsely as every muscle in her body tenses. To finally speak the idea that has been tumbling about in her head for months is a relief, but not enough. Her entire world was taken from her and it was simply not enough to act out of blind hatred. No, the future would need to unfold in a lengthy process of biding her time and finding the perfect opportunity.

She was close, that was for certain. Close, but Viðarr was unflinching. He does not have concerns as he stands carefully, weight evenly distributed over all four paws. Women are intimidating to him in ways that the shadow can't explain in the common tongue. Women were a mystery, enchanting as they were. This one in particular leaves his heart beating in his chest in ways that are a bit... a bit interesting. A bit questionable, really... gods, he was surrounded by women all the time, and still he shows shades of struggling to have conversations with them. At least the ones that were always by his sides were family. Maybe the difficulty was in speaking with strangers? No, that couldn't be it. Though he understands that she too, is a warrior. Tenshi carries herself with the same promised deadliness that Sanngriðr does. Viðarr recognizes it without question, but there's the thing about him-- he doesn't fear any warrior. The shadow fears not any brawl, any fight. He does not worry, and instead greets every conflict with a smile on his face. The fates have written his story already, and he's bound to it, come what may. Viðarr is confident that the gods are at his back, around his shoulders. No matter what, in the end, they'll choose they day that he dies at Odin's table within Valhalla. Viðarr need not fear any fall, any brawl, any scars. As it stands, he may simply live. Between them, the tension could be cut with a knife. Still, it's a comfort to him. Maybe it's because Viðarr doesn't yet have a grasp on the common tongue, that speaking brings greater discomfort. Well... no, that wasn't even necessarily the case. Even in his mother tongue, words failed him regularly. Words were hard. Silence, intense as it is, was much easier. He can study Tenshi, and watch the way that she moves. The way that thoughts seem to surge within her. The shadow remains quiet, and simply listens. At least Viðarr is good at that. Emotions, after all, would always be hard. Hattori the name comes, and one of Viðarr's ears flickers. This is a name that he doesn't know, strange and foreign to his ears. Politics escape him, and he doesn't know of the pack that has sprung up within Auster with one Hattori Hanzo at their head. No, he doesn't know. Not yet. In time, as the shadow rose to alphaship of his own pack, he would learn. That time had not come, not yet. "I do not know the family you seek," the words come with carefully composed neutrality. His siblings would be proud of his restraint here. "But I understand the hunger, the search for revenge." He offers his understanding, a consolation. Viðarr doesn't understand the art of biding your time, not in the same way his siblings did. His brand of violence is something reckless, unchained, impulsive. A berserker to his core. "If they were in the north, we would know. All I can tell you is to turn your search south." Right, he'd still tell her what he knew. The north had been their home since arriving, and Viðarr was confident that they had turned over every stone here... they'd turned over each stone in turn and found them all barren, empty. No pack was crazy enough to call the north home... not yet. That would be the Trygg family, in time. VÍÐARR Ragnarök awaits.