we are the storm and the wicked inside

Though usually stoic, Viðarr took great joy in teasing his sister. The valkyrie was too serious, mostly. The teasing was meant to help her lighten up, relax, live a little. He couldn't help it... after all, what were little brothers for? The man smirked to Iðunn, nodding once. "Yes, that one," a light shone in his eyes. Viðarr couldn't help it. It was true that his sister wasn't likely to appreciate the teasing at her expense later, but that was okay.

Other newcomers she wasn't aware of... not yet. Viðarr had taken a shine to Kiela in their brief meeting, but there was no way he could simply invite her to come along. No, that would be too forward, and he was left to hope that he'd come across her again. In his heart of hearts... yes, he hoped. After all, how could he not? Still, the shadow tried to push the thought from his mind. Couldn't be too overly eager. Couldn't pin too many of his hopes on her appearing to him once more.

The shadow stretched, grumbling to himself. Carefully, he set his chin on his paws and looked out at the sunset. "This language," he began slowly. "It tastes weird." It was a complaint, but one in good humor. Viðarr was in good spirits tonight, and in good company. Practicing speaking the same language as the others who lived here... it was important, even if it was a massive pain in his ass. The shadow supposed that he could make it happen. "Thank you," the words to Iðunn were quiet, but they held weight.

"Viðarr"