Casual chains

There's a quiet charm that seems to wrap around the shadowy viking. Víðarr does what he can to not come off threatening, hoping that if he relaxes, so will she. There's the flicker of a smile playing on his features, living in his bright eyes. Saving a lady in distress isn't his usual bit, but maybe it suits him. Maybe. As he took stock of the situation, Víðarr was grateful for the bit of extra height he had on her. It was an easier vantage point, and he quietly considered the crystals where they caught and tangled.

"I'm going to lift it so my friend here does not cut you with his beak," Víðarr's words were gentle, colored heavily with his lilting northern accent. The owl scowled indignantly at the shadow, but followed as he was asked. As gently as he could, Víðarr lifted the sections of net one by one, and his companion cut each strand loose. It was a time consuming process, using a degree of precision he wasn't particularly used to. Still, something about the methodical work was satisfying. "Tail... knife. Never seen that before, I like it." It's a quiet remark, one that comes as Víðarr moved closer to her rear.

After some long minutes, it seemed to the shadow that there was little left of the net trapping her above the surface. "What was on your back is gone, but is there ah, trouble under the water?" There was concern on his features, taking a step back to take a better look. The moonlight was a fickle light source, after all.

"Víðarr"