GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER
But the devil always won...
With a crack Hárekr snapped off a branch, dragging it across the ice for a moment before shaking his head violently, sending a spray of needles everywhere before he dropped it. He exhaled calmly, breath turning to smoke before his face. Slowly he began to walk again, eyes gazing down below the ice, musing over the nearly vertigo feeling… suddenly his eyes would glint and raced and slid on his belly pretending for a moment that he was a bird and he was flying. Slowly he'd return to his feet, eyeing another tree. He was about to spring when he heard a voice.
Turning Hárekr gazed at the handsome ruddy fellow before him. Ears would shift to attention as the man spoke and while Hárekr did not fully understand the language it did sound very similar to one he spoke. "Buenos días, señor. Ehhh…" Parla Italiano? He wasn't sure what this meant exactly but he figured Italiano was a language and the other was asking if he spoke it. "Lo siento. No hablo italiano. Hablas español o inglés?" He gauged the question carefully, making sure his enunciation was clear but he had no idea if the words would mean anything to the other. "Me llamo Hárekr." He gestured to himself. They should be able to get each other's names at least but he wasn't sure what conversation might occur beyond simple introductions.
"Monsters don't sleep under your bed, they sleep inside your head."
