She was returning to Yfir after a scouting trip, but it was in her mind to seek out her cousin first, and even before that to seek communion with the gods themselves. She'd climbed the volcano's face, sure footed despite the darkness that had settled over her as night had cloaked the world. She could remember this place clearly, the place she had found her sister after the mountain had shifted and trapped the elder Finnvi. Where Auora had showed her true spirit and amputated her own leg to free herself from the mountain's grasp, fighting to the last. She'd died on her own terms, much later, not trapped and slowly starving to death. Surely the gods showed her great honor in Valhalla now. Silver eyes rose to gaze quizzically at the sky. She'd thought she'd spoken to Auora in her dreams once - the healer had warned her that their cousin was not as dead as they'd believed, that she'd seen no signs of him in the afterlife. Perhaps it was a true dream; certainly Jaeger had appeared to plague her life not long after, but even Loki's tricks told the truth when it suited them. She missed her sister's council now. Sitting, staring at the sky, she found her mind wandering to the stars themselves rather than to the gods. There, the Great Wagon, the wagon's tongue pointing the way to the lode-star, leiðarstjarna, that would lead one north if one were to follow it. She could remember as a child that star, knowing that it would lead her to the nordmann that had taken her sister if she followed it long enough. Knowing that someday it would lead her to Auora - but her sister had been returned to her only to be lost once again. Whimsy struck the viking, and she wondered if leiðarstjarna would lead her to Auora now, if she were to follow it...

Only briefly had he stayed away from Yfir. Though ecstatic at the prospect of his cousin's returning rule, his wounds had needed tending to. Kaprasíus was almost grateful to Kar's willingness to help him, though it had been little more than an owed favor, though his world seemed so much darker now. The wound had healed decently enough, though the attack left his right eye mangled and grotesque, damage that would never heal. The scar he bore on his face was proof of the intensity of the assault, and though the injury had nearly healed now it was clearly fresh and sore still. The darkness seemed thicker than it ever had before, and the stars above seemed quite reluctant to guide his way. It was easy to trail after Katja's scent, though the journey was much less so; his lame hind paw seemed to hinder his movements more than usual though he plodded up the mountainside without so much as an internal complaint. It would do no good to whine, even to himself, for if one was so weary of life he wasn't sure why he bother continuing. It was a rarity for his mood to be so solemn - he was a creature of extremes and he felt vaguely unnerved when he wasn't wavering near the more intense sides of the emotional spectrum. Katja's scent grew stronger as he neared one of the higher points. His single working eye would search for her, his head swiveling around - it was amazing how much more he had to move his head now without binocular vision - before he spotted her, barely, little more than a shadow in the night. "Katja," he'd greet her, his voice level and calm. She was, perhaps, the one person who could calm him, though only when he allowed her to. His stoic cousin was so different from him, and yet at the core they were one in the same; they were of Finnvi blood, born from the flesh of the gods, born to serve until their last breaths. Even being blinded would not stop him from their shared goal, nor would it break the pledge of loyalty that he had vowed to her. "Die Sterne zu Ihnen spreche heute Abend?" There was no hint of jest in his voice, only a serious inquiry as he drew up near her, a quiet sigh falling from his lips.

Her whimsical musings were broken, scattering like the dust of a moth's wings among the stars' lights as the sound of her cousin's voice rolled through the darkness. "Sie auch sein mögen, Vetter," she returned with quiet tone, though her gaze remained fixed upon the heavenly firmament. Her cousin seemed infected by her introspective calm, his own voice holding so little of the Trickster this evening that the solemnity seemed almost eerie, though it suited her well enough. "Sie weisen mich nördlich obwohl ich weiß nicht warum. Der Stern zieht mich. Erinnerungen an längst vergangene Zeiten verbrauchen meine Gedanken." She turned her gaze at last to him, seeing for the first time the damage done to his face, the injury healed well but the eye a loss. Perhaps that was where his solemnity sprang from, not the wound itself as he had accepted many grievous wounds without complaint in the past, but because he channeled one-eyed Odin, the All-father, who had sacrificed his eye for knowledge. If that were true it would not seem he was destined to leave behind the influence of the Trickster either, the scar pulling one side of his mouth up in a permanent grin. The Trickster and the Wanderer embodied within one form - it seemed particularly fitting for him. Or perhaps it was just the mood of the night touching her with fool notions. "Und du, Vetter? Die Sterne sprechen für Sie?"

It didn't surprise him at all that Katja considered him one of Loki's many children; they were, after all, born of the very gods they worshiped. The calm that surrounded Katja was deeply contagious as he grew relaxed as he slipped next to her, to her right side, fixing his single working eye on her. The stars were calling her north, though whether it was a pull toward the future or a calling from the past seemed unsure. Musing, he'd let his gaze rise to the sky, examining the vast array of twinkling lights overhead. "Sie sagen mir viele Dinge," he would begin, his nose wrinkling as his head tilted higher to stare intently overhead. "Sie sprechen von der Herrlichkeit, dass wir zu unserer Familie und unseren Göttern bringen" he began somberly, his voice uncharacteristically calm.  "Sie erinnern mich an das Leben kurz geschnitten, der Freyleif und Einvir, der in Valhalla feiern und warten auf unsere Ankunft." A soft sigh escaped his lips as his head bowed, a moment of thoughtfulness taking over him. "Sie sagen mir, sie sind froh, dass ich nicht mehr mit Jaeger, der sie an Asgard gezwungen weit, bevor sie bereit waren." He had watched his brother kill their siblings; had watched him bathe in their blood and play with their innards. He'd been morbidly curious about the whole thing, but only in retrospect did he realized that it was never something he himself would've done. Perhaps to someone else, but not to family. It was never something he'd discussed with Katja; still he remembered her fierce demand to know where Jaeger was, for she wanted him to pay for his crimes, but still she didn't know just how deeply Kapra had loved him despite everything. How might things be different now if he had stopped him that night? It was not a Viking tradition to mourn so openly nor to regret, and so he would shake his head finally and clear his throat, as though he might shake the very thoughts from his head. "Was tun Sie für Ufir zu planen?" the brute would ask finally, his gaze falling on her again, curious - but also wanting to shift the topic from such matters.

Kapra's words sent an icy jolt of electricity through her, raising her fur as though it truly was a crackle of electrical current. He had done it so casually, had Kaprasíus, confirmed in one sentence the nightmare spectre that had haunted her childhood, her fear that their family had seemed so blithely unaware of. It had been fear of the bogeyman that was her elder cousin that had driven her to excel beyond even what had been expected of all the children of vikings, childhood fears that had driven her in an obsessive search to bring him back to her uncle for justice. Not the incestual relationship that had been rumored between Jaeger and his mother, no - the certainty she held that he'd caused his siblings' deaths. And now to hear another of their family not only speak of it, but to say with such casual certainty... The usually unflappable viking nearly fell down the mountain at the shock. But her surprise was shown only in her sudden motionlessness, in the restless ripple of her pelt, in the faint glaze of her silver eyes. Such minor things as may have been overlooked by those who did not know her, but blazing neon signs to those who did. She was silent for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the stars above her though she no longer saw the leiðarstjarna she had been watching. When she finally spoke it was without a quaver in her cool voice, and an abrupt switch out of the language of their earliest childhood. "Jeg søker herlighet og ære på Yfir, Kaprasíus," she said matter-of-factly. "Verden vil vite vårt navn, og de skal frykte og respektere det. Vi skal bli kjent og når døden tar oss i kampen vil vi bli Freyleif og Einvir og Auora i Valhall inntil det kommer av Ragnorok, og vi vil bli husket her lenge etter at vi er borte." Silver eyes blinked at him, reflecting the light of the stars like the silver starlight that coated her spine. "Det er ingen retur hjem for meg. Dette landet er der jeg vil gjøre mitt liv og min familie, og det er her jeg vil dø." Her gaze returned to the sky, to the star-of-the-north, the leiðarstjarna, the star that guided all travelers. "Jeg vil ikke lenger gå sakte, fetter." "" ""

Oh, the things he could tell her that would actually send her sprawling down the mountain. If only Katja knew how thoroughly Jaeger had enjoyed rolling in the entrails of his siblings; if she only knew of the brief romance they had shared. He had denied her accusations vehemently when they had remained within their family's pack, and even now it wasn't cleared whether he had lied to her then or not. It was possible he had learned about Einvir and Freyleif long after the occasion, though deep down he knew that she'd suspected him as one of Jaeger's accomplices. Still, it seemed his pledge of loyalty had engrained some trust within her, as even now she heard his words, she only faltered slightly. He was used to the subtle nuances of her expressions, and he saw the slight twitch of her face as the truth dawned on her. Still, she seemed happy to continue on with their talk about their future and the future of Yfir. It mattered little to him what she decided to do. Kapra hadn't been lying when he'd pledged his loyalty to her. Where else would he go anyway? He was content to hang on for the ride, no matter where it took them. Her words captured him for a moment, and he would turn to watch her as she spoke with fervor in her voice. A slight grin tugged at his scarred features, his tail batting the ground behind him softly in pleasure. He was ready for the Finnvi name to be known. How else could they please their gods other than this? "Deretter herlighet, vil vi bringe," he would comment with a faint bit of excitement in his voice.  "Uansett hva det koster oss." It mattered not to him if he died defending the glory of Yfir.. he would do so willingly, knowing where he was headed when he passed over to the other side.  "Jeg skal være ved din side til din død."  His final comment was a more serious one, but he found himself in grinning. No matter how different they were, he was loyal to those he'd chosen as his allies, and Katja was certainly at the top of his list. "La meg kjempe ved din side."

Her cousin's words pleased her to hear, and she closed her eyes briefly in thanks to him. "So shall it be, cousin," she agreed. Turning her gaze back to the sky to trace the lines of stars that made up the great wain she considered her words. "If you are to follow me into Yfir, what rank is it you would desire? Of all wolves in these lands I would trust you the most, but also do I trust you to know yourself and what you desire better than I do." She tilted her head back to him, and silver gaze glittered seriously as she added, having given it more reflection since his earlier question, "The lode-star guides me to our new home, I believe."

He was admittedly happy that the talk of his fallen kin did not linger, for it forced an aching pit in the center of his chest, a longing for his brother and his sister who had been sent to Valhalla far too soon. He knew that this life was what the gods had planned for him and he knew it would do little good to dwell on the past, no matter how much it pained him. They had to only look forward, though he knew they could never forget those they had lost in the journey. "There is no if," he corrected his cousin swiftly, his words serious though not without a faint grin that shone into his voice. "I will be following you. As for a rank, whatever suits me," he began nonchalantly. True leadership did not suit him; he was insightful enough to know that, though in the field of battle he was fearless and without abandon. "Though as a master of battle, I would be happy to command." Only if she thought him worthy. His style of fighting was more flighty, spontaneous, and not always calculated but he knew he could control himself if he was given the task of commanding a group, for the greater good.