hold the heathen hammer high

There's something strange hanging in the air between them, though Viðarr couldn't quite put a name to it. Though he was tense, there seemed to be an understanding stretching between the two men. An unspoken agreement, though each carefully sized the other up. Watching. Waiting. A chess game, though each had a slightly different version of the rules. There wasn't a true language barrier here, but one of cultures. So it seemed, they were similar in all the ways that mattered.

The stranger asks of Celeste, and Viðarr is quick to respond. "I do," his tone carefully neutral. "Why?" That was the first and most important question. Secondary to that, it would be who? but the shadow supposed one question would answer the other. It's at this point Viðarr steps down from the wall, navigating with all the ease a behemoth of his stature can muster. His posture remained composed and neutral, not wanting to appear as if to threaten the stranger. No, it would just be easier to have a conversation if they were eye to eye.

"Viðarr"