The new warrior that had turned up at his borders struck Viðarr as... interesting. Heavily scarred, some intentional, some not. Seemingly a competent fighter, from the little that he'd seen. A healer by trade, too, though it would be an assessment from Tenshi that carried weight on that matter. Really, he knew just enough to keep himself alive. That was all he'd ever needed, after all. Still, having another one on board would help take some strain off of both his wife and Ulmaria.

Right, he aught to check in on the mountain's latest resident. The noontime sun was brilliant as it shone down across his back. Bracing. Viðarr raised his chin to it, enjoying the spare warmth it had to offer. As stark as the landscape was, it's just as beautiful. The gods had given him something beautiful, blessing his home on the mountain. It was for them, and for his family, that he'd care for it.

Family. They're all family up here. That's how they survive. From where he stands near one of the central fire pits, Viðarr calls for Bylgja. They would check in. He would get to know her. It's his job, after all.

"Viðarr"

Bylgja sought more herbs. She'd gathered elderberry, but there was more she needed. As she walked, Bylgja nuzzled down into snow, flipping over stones and peering under places where the sky couldn't quite plaster the undergrowth with snow. Careful, eyes peeled, she moved at an easy pace, the same sort of relaxed stride that Tomie had seen. As she found dandelion and bent, plucking it between her teeth and shoving it into the little pocket on her axe-band, she heard Viðarr call -- and she threw her head back, giving one in response. Her return-call was deep, throaty, strong-- but more than anything, it was jovial, delighted. This was a good day, after all, and Bylgja had no reason to tuck her tail and sulk. The landscape is stark, but the sun shines, and the sky is wonderful to behold. It's warm, on her coat. She shakes out her fur and gets to jogging towards the source of Viðarr's call, her head high, her step jaunty. When she sees him, she gives a hearty holler: "Konungr!" Delighted. Her tail wags, and she picks up speed, bounding to him with a sure-footed grace. As she does, her axe, new, glints at her side. The wood has been carved with more runes, and blue dye smeared into the wooden handle. The runes on the blade are still unadorned with color, but Bylgja hasn't found the right color yet, is all. "Glorious day, by the Gods!" Her voice is bright, loud, exuberant. "I'm here!" She almost asked if he wanted to walk and talk, or hunt with her, but first, Bylgja wanted to see if he had a reason for the summons. "Bylgja"

The viking king regarded her warmly, a smile upon his rough features. It's warm, just as the sun that shines down across his back. Though the winter chill was a way of life, at least they had the sun to live by. Everything was wonderful, beautiful up here on the mountain. He's pleased with it. More than pleased. Another day, a gift from the gods. Viðarr straightened up as Bylgja approached, his tail a high wag behind him. The sentiment shared... it was nice to know that she was one of them. One of his. He finds comfort in it. Though they neared capacity, Viðarr couldn't turn her away. The viking king was grateful for that.

"It is," he affirmed, head tilting to the sunlight. He'd enjoy it for a long moment more, allowing the woman to complete her approach. "There has been some ah, strange activity lately. I wanted to show you what I look for, so you can patrol too." This seemed reasonable. It would be time well spent, and Viðarr could get to know her along the way. That, and the more he could beef up their security, the better. Strange things had been afoot lately... something about the thinning of the veil.

"Viðarr"

He is as happy to see her as she is to see him. There is a kinship that exists between them and Bylgja is delighted to see it-- she wants to fight him, to wrestle her King, but she doesn't. Not yet, anyway. It would be rude to just leap upon him, but she has plans! "Ah! Perfect plan. Show me what to look for." There is no question of her intention to patrol; it's there, in her body, in her stance. She will run the length of the packlands if she must. "There are two things I would like to speak to you about, Konungr!" Her voice, strong. Her call, compelling. "We can talk while we patrol, yes? Is fine?" She had, of course, dropped into the language they shared; this was the way that made sense to speak, after all. Bylgja shifted her stance, just enough. She wanted him to see her new axe. Wanted the King to know she was getting on excellently here. That would make informing him of her intention for the Thing hit a bit easier, she supposed. "Whatever comes, though--I face it with claw and axe." This is a sworn, solemn vow. "Bylgja"