two warriors in the ring

Though Sanngriðr's gaze was relatively chilly, Viðarr didn't mind much. The valkyrie was as she would always be, and would be as she always was. Her suspicion was often what kept them alive, and he'd always found it in his best interest to trust it. When she reacts warmly to the trader, the shadow allows himself to relax marginally. Yes, if she had a good feeling about him, then he was welcome here. Really, it was likely for the best that the others hadn't come at his call too... they were a bit overwhelming at times. Such was their way, though, hospitality to strangers. Warmth to strangers. It's important, of course, as the gods walked among them. There was no telling just what form they'd arrive in.

She bumped into him, no doubt intentionally, and Viðarr stumbled just a bit. He shot a scowl at his sister, but it melted quickly. He rolled his eyes and allowed an easygoing smile to play on his face instead. Siblings. It's a familiarity that he can't help but find comfort in. Family above all, always. "He didn't come to... ah... spela hnefatafl," Viðarr realized that he'd misplaced the word for play, but it was good enough. Still, Bismuth said he was interested... maybe it was because he was polite.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he assured the colorful man, just in case. As he sorted through the furs and the leather that had been set out to cure, he set aside a few that would take longer to cure. "We are ah, doing a trade," he explained to the valkyrie, reminding her that he had a purpose in joining them in camp. It was then that she'd rise to her feet and join him, pulling away a couple more pieces that had been reserved for other purposes.

"Viðarr"