we all been called

His name, her voice. Somewhere not too far behind him, though the viking king now felt like he'd intruded by being in here. Her quarters were modest, but he didn't want her to feel unwelcome. He didn't want her to freeze. While less able to keep an eye on her himself, the man at least needs to feel like he's doing something to help her. Even if they're small acts.

Sheepish for a moment, Víðarr offers a warm smile and steps out of her space, out of her way. "I just want you to be comfortable." Responsible. He is responsible for her, though he hasn't put the pieces together as to why yet. His gaze is quick, tracing over each of the injuries. He'd come to know them well, and at least visibly they looked... okay. To his untrained eye. Not worse, and that was something. "How are you feeling?" Víðarr supposed he could also ask the question. His gaze steady, prepared for her to underplay anything she happened to feel. He sees Valtiel.

"Víðarr"