walking on barbed wire

Víðarr thinks of the ghosts of his own, the ones that haunt this place. The ones that haunt this place and haunt his head. Bitter thoughts of his older sister, who still exists and lives and breathes here. Thoughts of Tove, too. The pang of guilt, of remorse, the metallic taste in his mouth... Víðarr swallowed hard. The shadow can't help but think of her, and think hard. A knot in his stomach. Víðarr bit his tongue, holding the feelings back as well as he could.

Was he a ghost? "Depends on who you ask." High headed as he speaks, taking a moment to look at the girl. A real slip of a thing, dwarfed in height and weight. Curious as he takes her in. "You can try, if you would like." A slight smile, his head tilting as he takes her in. "Where are you going?" Though Víðarr had an agenda, maybe she had one too. He could always ask.

"Viðarr"