Settling the pack was work, but then, the shadow had never shied from a hard day. Never had, never would. No, he simply put his head down and got shit done. It was near as natural as breathing. The viking king had risen, and he would only keep rising. There was something about it, something... he knew. This was the time to rise and keep rising. Víðarr does not ask questions of the gods, but follows the path laid before him.
He wouldn't question those they put in his path, either. The shadow can hear her call, and carefully, he picks his way to the source. Politics were largely foreign to him. Víðarr knows how to settle things with his fists, not his wits. It had done him well before, and if it wasn't broken? Well, Víðarr wasn't looking to fix it. With his head high, his gaze settled on Voodoo as she came into view. Just behind her, a yearling. "Girl," he greeted, not unkindly. "Younger girl," the same tone coloring his voice, eyebrows lifting slightly as he took both in. Curious. Very curious. "Why have you come?" The words are spoken crisply, curios as he was.
"Speech"
Víðarr has two Karelian bear dogs and a white morph tawny owl. Assume they're within calling distance unless otherwise stated.
Víðarr speaks with a dense Swedish accent.
Cooperative
![[Image: bfcOTDt.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bfcOTDt.png)
