Inside Mist

There is comfort in this forest. There is comfort in the mist where it settles among the trees, a shroud that the shadow can slip through easily. Effortlessly. Comfortably. For as much time as he's spent here, Viðarr knows it like one would know a home. Soon, he thinks to himself. Soon it would be, again. Time was coming soon, and the wait was nearly over. All the plans to set in motion, all the change they'd bring about. Soon. A faint smile on the shadow's lips as he moves across the soft ground. Somewhere high above his head, the beating of wings. Beneath him, the shadows of the ravens played across the forest floor. Every step, every action is the tug of fate, the will of the gods.

Speaking of the gods' will. A figure was coming together through the fog. A figure that Viðarr recognizes as he nears. "You look well." He offers the observation where one would maybe typically offer a greeting instead. Still, there's warmth that shines through in his tone. The words come with the brilliance that the shadow can only properly display in his mother tongue. A few more long steps, and he's within a reasonable distance of the other man. "How did the winter treat you?" A friendly enough question, Viðarr supposes. Reasonable. It seemed something about the other man had changed, though he couldn't say with certainty what yet.

"Viðarr"