Sakana had filled her in on the mountain pack, a bundle of toothy, terrible children and a culture, perhaps the closest to their own in all the lands. It was a logical place to start. She came bearing gifts of course, alcohol for the adults, toys made of hide, bone and feathers for the children, (if only to spare their poor mother's tail), some herbs from the coast for their stores, the usual.

She settled herself at the borders and sent out a summoning howl for the leader. If his children were anything like her own, perhaps it would be worthwhile to organise some playdates, if only to spare their neighbours in the short term.

“Speech.”

It's true, the children are toothy and terrible. Víðarr is really very proud of them. They're growing larger and stronger by the day, leaving the viking king terribly grateful that they were well on their way to expanding into the Crypt as well. With the Crypt for storage, they'd have more space on the mountain to live. More space on the mountain could mean even more terrible, toothy puppies, and the cycle would continue. A call the viking king didn't recognize rang out across the mountain. Never one to keep a caller waiting, Víðarr picked up a long, easy lope on his way down the mountain. Though summer had settled in around their shoulders, the Maw remained fairly comfortable. Slowing to a jog, then a walk, as he closed in to greet the stranger. A woman, near as tall as he was, somehow equal parts otherworldly and unsettling. She smelled a bit like the fishboy, the one who'd tended to his wife at birth. Offering a smile, he speaks. "I am Víðarr, this is my pack. What can we do for you?" He doesn't mask his curiosity, or the appreciative gaze that rests on her. No need. "Víðarr"

   

Modesty wasn't left waiting long before a hulking dark coated man approached. She kept an easy smile on her face, head canting as she committed the name to memory. It would sit strangely on her tongue, but she would do her best to remember it. “My name is Modesty, I've just stepped up as leader of Raider's Hollow. I believe you have perhaps met Gilgamesh, and our healer Sakana, so I thought it was about time I said hello myself.” She gave an easy shrug, it didn't have be a formal or stuffy meeting by any means. “I come bearing alcohol,.” she offered with a slightly more rakish smile, “and of course, toys for the children, some herbs Sakana thought you might have use for from the islands and beaches around our home.” She gestured to the basket that sat beside her, leaving a break in the conversation in case he had any questions for her.

“Speech.”

He doesn't fault them, the sounds from his mother tongue often sit strangely in the mouths of foreigners. The viking king thought for a long moment as Modesty introduced herself. Rolling over the thoughts as she explains. He'd only met Gilgamesh in passing, but Sakana-- "That fishboy, he is talented." Víðarr gives an approving a smile, a nod. It was hard not to approve of the boy, he'd done good work. "Come in. Welcome to Heiðinn." The words are gruff, kind. A dip of his head, thanking the woman as he picks it up instead. She's already carried it so far, after all.

Alcohol is, of course, always welcome. Everything else? It seemed she'd thought of everything, and he finds himself impressed. Leading the way into the areas more protected from the elements, the viking king is happy to walk and talk. "Thank you. Remind me, I will send you back with some of what Sakana keeps coming after." He chuckles warmly. For as much shit as he gave the kid, Víðarr had been lenient with him. "Raiders... how is your raiding?" It's conversational, light, but curious. Something exciting shining in his eyes.

"Víðarr"

   

Modesty didn't mask her puzzlement when the man referred to Sakana as fishboy, or was it Gilgamesh he was referring to? She certainly hadn't expected to be invited in, but she took him up on the offer happily, grateful when he scooped up her offering too. It wasn't terribly heavy, but it was a long way from home. She laughed when he offered to send her back with some of whatever Sakana kept coming for, “I do wonder if it's the herbs he's coming for or the company. Then again, with our lot being as injury prone as they are, he might be hoping you'll take him prisoner so he can have a vacation?” She mused for a moment, hoping her appreciation was conveyed in her offering, “Thank you, for letting him come home. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't returned.” She thought it best to speak her appreciation anyway.

When discussion turned to raiding, her eyes pinched at the corner, her steps gaining a stomp that hadn't been there a moment ago. “Gilgamesh had a good impression of the leader of Ethne, and we were hoping to gather some chickens. We'd only gone in to match energy, under the cover of night, in and out. One of the children was horribly maimed for throwing rocks at a mad woman. Then they had the audacity to follow us home and expect a warm welcome.” Her chuckle was dark. “It seems we can't shake the reputation of the Pirates, and it's my children that pay for it, but we will continue to raid. How about you? I hear an opponent tried to talk you out of a raid?”

“Speech.”

The company-- the shadow of a smile crosses the viking king's face. His tail twitched. A little tilt of his head, thinking of how his own son teased the boy so. Then, there was the fact that Sakana had done them such a kindness as well. Víðarr tipped his muzzle gently, considering it... a peace, of sorts. "He delivered my children, so I supposed joint custody was in order." A light joke, though his tone rumbled. Getting things settled in the area set up to receive guests, preparing some food and mead to set between them.

But as Modesty goes on about the raiding, Víðarr's expression hardens. Becomes drawn. A rumble in his chest at the idea so much had befallen them after a raid. He'd had a similar good impression of the girl in charge, but she was just that... a girl. "The child alpha failing to control her pack," Víðarr sighed heavily. A good kid was still a kid. If she wasn't ready, then that weakness should be further exposed.

As for his own raiding? Víðarr's tail thumped softly. "Avalon, yes. Tried to talk us out of it, and made it sound like she believed her own pack weak." He let go an indignant chuckle. "We just came back from Norad. They were rich in resources and scarcely guarded." He offers it as a tip, a glimmer in his icy eyes. A gentle insinuation for the other alpha. A rakish grin played across his handsome features.

"Víðarr"

   

Norad, also in Auster, she gave the man a grin and a nod of her head, tucking the information away to offer to Gilgamesh later. She knew Flurry would be choosing the next target, but it couldn't hurt to keep in mind. The summer would be leaving them soon and the southern packs would be a more appealing target. There was also the bamboo pack the Pirates had raided for the first birthday of the older litters. They had options for the colder months that didn't mean slogging through snow. So far, she was glad she had come, reaching out to sip at the offered mead.

While the Raiders were known for their alcohol, Modesty was a lightweight and often abstained in preference of herbal remedies. She couldn't remember much of her trip to Ashen, not much worth remembering anyway... Still, the sweet drink had as much of a kick as any of the raiders brew, smoother and sweeter than the hot kick in the throat that came with their usual fare, this was perhaps even stronger. It was certainly a flavour. She pulled a questioning face, “Honey?” as she took another drink, feeling the effects almost immediately and grinning a little foolishly. The way her words slipped already it could have been mistaken for a term of endearment. “I must warn you, I don't drink often...”

“Speech.”

The viking king's icy gaze glimmers, watching the woman's face as she takes a sip of the mead. She's quick to discern the honey, although that gaze does dance across her pretty face. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Tall, but lighter than the average viking, and with no tolerance to boot-- the shadow would play in the grey area between angel and demon. Pouring a small cup of tea, and then adding another dollop of honey to both the tea and the mead. The common tongue isn't his own, and perhaps he's a bit dense, though he'd allow his gaze to return rather appreciatively to Modesty as he returns to sip his own mead. A bit of extra hone would help hers go down easier, sweeter. The container sits on the table, golden and sticky, beside the large near-full pitcher of alcohol.

"We are celebrating you stepping up," it's warmth. If she'd usurped Gilgamesh, then she was smart. Strong. If someone was messing with children, Víðarr was happy to be the consequences of their actions. The whole thing certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she was a pretty milf. Certainly not. A rakish grin played across his dark features, pouring himself another glass of mead where he sits across from the woman. "And maybe becoming friends." A bit forward, yes, but the kindness so far had been mutual. The benefits were clear. Though he'd been tight about security on the mountain, if he could call the Raiders friends, Víðarr could feel a bit better about making exceptions for Sakana.

"Víðarr"

   

Drinking in celebration was fair, she supposed she could loosen up a little. There was nothing about the man that had her concerned about needing to watch herself. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but this place already felt like somewhere she could get used to being. It wouldn't hurt to let her guard down, right? She appreciatively took a sip of the sweet tea before moving back to the mead, gesturing with her cup, “To new friends.” She nodded with some certainty, she couldn't see saying so would have any downside. “But we should test our packs against each other soon, unless you think you can talk me out of it?” She teased with a giggle, the warmth of the alcohol numbing her nose and cheeks, leaving her unable to wipe the smile off her face.

“Speech.”

A host, he can't help himself. Taking a long sip of mead before pouring himself another cup, inviting Modesty to join him. There's plenty to go around, and Víðarr is happy to subtly flex the wealth of his people. They'd worked hard, why not enjoy it? A warm smile as his gaze rests on the woman, the giggle unmistakable. Drinking with the viking would be the best kind of dangerous. Ever so relaxed, allowing the warmth to wash over him.

"Talk you out of it? Never." His tail thumped against the stone seating, inadvertently breathing a bit more life into the fire as well. "How about a friendly wager for a friendly test?" Víðarr's smile is light, carrying through to his tone as well. It colors his words, plays with them. The viking king can't help himself.

"Víðarr"

Modesty couldn't help but feel this was the way things were supposed to be. The subtle back and forth, good company, openess with none of the bitter butt-hurt that seemed to abound between the good and lawful that maimed children and called it just. Víðarr wouldn't expect them to be anything other than what they were, she was already comfortable in the assessment, and in turn, Modesty would expect no better of them. When he turned the conversation to a friendly test, the weight of the alcohol warm in her belly and turning to her third cup when she rarely drank at all... She felt young again. It had been a long time indeed since she had been like this, and in positive spirits to boot. She had little control of the playful words that slipped from her mouth.

"Is it hot in here or is it just you?" She was clearly interested in the wager, but she felt she had to preface his offer, “Gotta let you know though, I put up a better fight in bed.” It wasn't even a lie, most of her fights had been won by tripping and falling on her opponents. She left the fighting up to those who were good at it. "I'll leave the fighting to my raiders, but I have faith in their abilities. What are you thinking for added incentive?"

“Speech.”

The rough, the rowdy, they aren't strangers. In all chaos, there's calculation-- Víðarr knows it. He suspects Modesty knows it too, perhaps better than he does. The viking king's smile is rakish, the play of warm firelight over his rough-hewn features. The back and forth, the dance of it all... he can't help but bask in the attention. While Víðarr may misplace some of the nuance, there's something overt in the way the woman looks at him. Politics had never been his strong suit, but this? This wasn't so bad.

At the more salacious comment, the viking king allows his gaze to rake over the woman's features rather pointedly once more. Pretty face, antlers, quills, a bit on the lighter side for his taste but-- yeah no, she's hot. He'd plead the fifth on her more salacious comments, at least pretending they'd gone over his head. Maybe his smile is telling enough. For as much as he basks in the attention, the viking king also loves his wife. Instead, there's talk of the raid. "If we win, a barrel of your finest. If you win, one of ours." A pricy, but not extravagant wager. Something that seemed fair, for their troubles. Eyebrow lifting, a little dare.

"Víðarr"

It felt like an age since anyone had looked at her the way the Viking was looking at her now, and while it was an ego boost, it also made her heart hurt a little. She didn't let it show though, her suggestive smile never faltering as he put his offer forward. She couldn't see her raiders having a problem with that offer. “A deal!” She raised her glass to lock the offer in. “Though I don't know their schedule, we'll be sure to come visit before the end of Autumn.” One of the best times of the year for drinking by her approximation (probably because it was the season she tended to conceive). Maybe that was what had her so riled?

She looked to the fading light, a look of surprise crossing her face before she laughed. “Although, if I don't head back soon, they might think I've been kidnapped and who knows what fires they'll start then?” She certainly didn't expect anyone to show up kicking doors down to try and save her. “But before I go, blood or no?” If the raiders and the vikings were going to be friends, it would help to set clear rules before they pissed each other off with a miscommunication.

“Speech.”