The losses had stacked up around him, and Víðarr was tiring. Death is as much a part of life as birth, as anything else, but it still wares on the shadow. Fuck. Imagine feeling so old, his shoulders and back aching as the mornings came colder, the evenings came sooner. Autumn again. There was much to do, much to prepare-- dwelling on shit wouldn't do him any good.

It was Strai, that he beckoned for, to help in refreshing the space they used to greet the guests. While Víðarr and Steig had made good progress the previous day, he needed a little more muscle this time around. Dragging the heavy table out so they could scrub both the table and the floors, so they could put new skins down on the floors-- a necessary evil. Keep busy, keep his head down, keep moving forward. That's all he can do, right?

Maybe it was time to check in with the young man, too. They were all growing up so quickly, and time marched on.

When Vidarr called for him, Strai came. Right of might was still very much a part of his life, and Vidarr had proven himself the stronger time and time again. There was more to it now, but he was a little more hesitant to admit to it. Even to himself. Vidarr was someone important in Delphi’s life, and the path to remaining beside her. He needed to remain on Vidarr’s good side if he was ever to become a proper member of this pack.

He was just growing a little impatient on when that would be.

He trotted to the dark wolfs side, and found himself surprised to realise they were equal now in height, when had that happened? “You called for me?” He asked as he came to a stop.


"Speech"

Astraios doesn't keep him waiting long, something the viking king is grateful for. Unrolling another rug and tossing it over the clumsily erected clothesline, he turns to the boy with a nod. Boy... he was looking less like a boy by the day, standing taller, stronger. Víðarr doesn't chase the smile from his face, instead allowing it to rest there as he nods to the young man.

"Moving the table is a two man job." Though his tone is gruff, it's not without warmth. Tossing his muzzle to the reception area, the shallow cave, he beckons the boy follow and take a spot opposite him. The work isn't difficult, just time consuming. Moving heavy shit, cleaning, putting it back-- who woulda thought being settled would be so much work?

Unusually eager to fill the silence, and not be left alone with his own thoughts, the viking king addresses the thrall as they work. "Tell me about your first raid."

Strai frowned. Not in disagreement, but in assessment, as he tried to figure out what Vidarr was doing, and why he needed the table moved. But ultimately, it didn’t matter. He followed Vidarr, and took the spot indicated. He got stuck in, working alongside Vidarr. He was one who could fall to silence for a long time and forget he should even be saying something. But perhaps it’s a good thing that Vidarr pulled him out of his thoughts with conversation.

Or not.

He winced at the mention of the raid. He had gone after the wolf that had taken down Vidarr, foolish in his hope to prove himself and avenge his leader. Instead, he had lost as well. “I took on that grey white wolf that you attacked, and I lost.” He explained gruffly. “i let them gain control of my head when they grabbed my scruff, and it went downhill from there.” A loss, and he was terribly unimpressed by it.

"Speech"

As the boy's brows draw together, a frown creasing his face, the viking king figured he could explain himself. Let Astraios in on the plan. "We are deep cleaning the space, because it will be too cold to do more than spot clean soon." Prepare for the winter, get ready to receive guests, and do all the things that kept them in respectable, functional condition.

The boy reflects on his fights, on the things that had bested him. A loss, but it had been the boy's first raid. It was one of the reasons they'd gone after a pack that looked weak-- his own fighters needed the practice. Finally setting down the table and handing the boy a broom instead, Víðarr sets about beating the rug. Chores.

"You have grown, Astraios. I will make you an offer-- you prove to me that you have grown into a fine herdsman too, and I make you one of my herdsmen. Thrall no more." The words come without ceremony, though they carry weight as Víðarr speaks. It's an offer all the same.