i'll be immortal

As the brightly colored man tipped his head to the side, Víðarr felt the need to explain. He didn't want to sound like he was out of his mind, trying to stab others with his bracers. And to hear this man was a neighbor... yes. It would be best that he didn't think the family next door was home to vicious creatures, murderers, and the like. "Prey is good now," he began, assembling the words as best he could. "Which means more predators." Viðarr would arm himself against the predators. He had a family to protect, after all. It wasn't that they couldn't protect themselves, either. No, they'd do a good job, but Viðarr was in a position where he could protect and provide for them, and he would do so gladly.

"How to sharpen?" His gaze was curious on the trader. Back home they'd used whetstones to keep axes and knives sharp, but he couldn't imagine it would be quite the same with the glimmering black rocks. It seemed, as well, that this man found the trade offer amenable. He didn't seem to be a threat of any sort, and there would be no harm in bringing him to camp. Truly, the threat alone was that Sanngriðr would likely try to rope him into playing hnefatafl... a thought that made the shadow smile softly. There was something so normal about it. Maybe they were really settling in here. They could relax, they could be comfortable enough to play games and set camp. It was a thought that set him more at peace than he had been in ages.

"Yes," though his words were short, Viðarr's tone was warm. A charming smile played over his features as he spoke to the man, this Bismuth Gneiss. "Come with me, I can show you leather and food now?" He'd taken to this particular spot to work on his project simply because the light was better, but the sun had moved and the trees cast shadows on his workspace. He could bring this Gneiss man to camp, and make the trade easily. For the resources and the insight, he'd gladly pay-- it was only fair. That, and Sanngriðr wouldn't have his ass for trading away a chunk of leather that had been saved for something else.

Easily, the hulking man pulled himself to his feet. What he lacked in grace, Viðarr made up for in sheer, raw power. He pulled the sheet of leather over his shoulder to carry it more easily, and took the carefully cut out pieces in gentle teeth. "Komsi komsi," he turned to lead the way around the corner, and the short distance to where he'd been camping with his family.

"Viðarr"