it was like fire around the brim

Víðarr · 02-07-2022, 10:04 AM

Built for gods, they both were. Still, two different gods. Víðarr would largely embody his namesake, and he always had. He was vengeance, tall dark and handsome. Riding in and taking control swiftly, mercilessly. No quarter drawn. Swift, violent, deadly... but only when you need to be. Vengeance was tempered with mercy. In reality, he's both and he's neither. The touch of the gods ran through him, bright and hot. They'd smiled upon him, and Víðarr was devout. The shadow couldn't help it.

Since arriving here, they'd smiled upon not only him, but Iðunn as well. The pair were close in all things, both devout believers. The priestess had an edge, of course, but it didn't escape the shadow's notice that he'd grown. It wasn't by any small degree either. It was a sign. That, combined with Iðunn's run-in with the deer gods? Well, it was clear they were trying to tell the Trygg family something. Had he been a messenger? Was it Eikþyrnir, come to point them in the direction they were meant to go? The omen still hung around Víðarr's shoulders and troubled his thoughts. For now, all they could do was speculate. It was comforting to think about.

One man's mongrel is another's extraordinarily well trained and developed hunting dog, but it made sense. Hund they called them, more broadly. Karjalankarhukoira, in Víðarr's broken Finnish. He'd get as far as he could on that. The creature had a mischief about him, one that Víðarr had yet to fully harness. Still, there was no harm in a little fun. Still, the woman's words shattered the looking glass that had formed within his thoughts. It pulled him back down to earth. She spoke as the skjaldmær did, her voice strong and hearty. It was the sort of voice that was more fit for giving orders, for shouting, than it was for casual conversation. Víðarr could relate to that.

Relate too, he did, to the way that she sifted through words as she spoke. Her accent wasn't familiar to him, and he takes a moment to process it. With a paw, he stills his companion from his momentary ruckus. Where is this place? Where was an interesting question, as most wheres were relative. Still, the shadow speaks as clearly as he can through the dense accent that colors his words. "North, on the continent called Boreas." Okay, that's a start. "It is called Waterfall Peak," right, hence the... waterfall. Víðarr's tone remains neutral, though he takes this as an excuse to study the woman. The shadow lacks subtlety. "Who are you?" A question of his own-- an eye for an eye.

VÍÐARR
Ragnarök awaits.

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