Memories Like Broken Glass, Threaten To Tear Me Apart

Ah, the eyebrows. He sees them from Wight, but smiles as he does. A chuckle rings like brass from his throat. "Snow soon, summer now." There's a bit of a skip in the shadow's step, as there often is with a pretty girl nearby. Still, her worry catches him off guard. Admittedly, Viðarr is poor with questions. Maybe one of his siblings would have something to say about it when they sat around for dinner. Ooo-- dinner. Actually that sounded good. The shadow's head is filled with excitement about the promise of seal when they got to camp.

The shadow steps carefully into her personal space. If she wanted to rebuke him for it, that was fine. If she wanted to dodge him, she had time. Still, he's better outfitted for this, and it couldn't be fun being out here as an icicle. "How long is it?" How long ago was it that she'd come? If all she'd seen was snow and ice... well, okay, wait that wasn't much of a marker. At this point, Viðarr realized that there was only snow here. Snow he could visit whenever he wanted-- ideal. He could visit whenever he liked, but it didn't come with the caveat that there'd be no prey.

"Home," Viðarr spoke softly, trying the word out on his tongue. It was the first time he'd called it home aloud. Still, it felt right. "We will have dinner with my family, and sit at the fire. Maybe you will even thaw out." The words were carefully chosen, maybe a bit stilted. Still, they were the truth-- they could all sit by the fire and share a meal. Viðarr would, for now, withhold the warning that his sister would drag any slightly even slightly interested stranger into a game of hnefatafl.

"Viðarr"