As the boy watches, waits, Víðarr subtly changes his movements. No longer is he just tidying up, he's also preparing something. Putting away the children's toys, pulling out a bottle of honey mead. Stronger than the light dandelion stuff the children drank during festivals, this had a little more bite. No, this was what men drank at dinner, somewhere between a mead and a cider. Rota had a taste for the stuff, and it always seemed to be flowing among the vikings. The last of the scraps of some... what even was that initially? That the kids had gotten ahold of. Víðarr wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he added it to the cheerfully crackling fire as well. Cups set up.
A warm smile to Akito as the boy joins him. "You too." Warmth hangs in his tone, pouring a cup and pushing it toward the yearling. If asked, Akito was as much his son as any of the others. Warmth in his gaze as he puts the last of the toys in one of the baskets, the pelts could be hung out in the sun tomorrow. Finally sitting beside the boy to take a long drink from his own cup, looking into the fire. "You have grown." Fondness in his tone.
"How are you?" The question is exactly as loaded as it needs to be. Sipping his mead, settling in comfortably. He cares, but he understands his position too.
"Víðarr"
This character is unstable. Blanket TW for mental health themes applies to all posts.
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)
