FORGED BY THE WRATH OF GODS

Cy was fucking freezing by the time they made their way to the top of the mountain. While she'd committed to following her family wherever they decided to go, why did they pick here? Her teeth chattered, knees shook-- why were they hellbent on choosing somewhere that she and Celeste both were bound to freeze their tails off? She stuck close to their sides, keeping an eye on the kids. Adventurous and unruly as they were, it would maybe be nice to have somewhere to settle down and sort themselves out for a bit. Still, did it have to be so fucking cold?

And then there was the question of Víðarr. Cyanide still wasn't sure she trusted him completely, though it seemed like he'd done his best. Her pink gaze remained steady on the viking king, offering him only a steady, silent nod. Watching. Waiting to see what he had to say for himself.