It's not breaking the rules if I live here

The viking armament stockpile was certainly something, but it's different. Different styles for different folks, and they haven't been a pack for quite as long. Erik can see the potential, see the future, here before his eyes. Though he's a bastard, his father has hinted that he viewed the child as a prince all the same. Caught between two worlds, pulled in two different directions... something like that. The wonder plays on his face, plain as day. More boy than monster in these moments. It was humanity that had forsaken him, not the other way around.

Being on his best behavior came with rewards. As Ember gently handed him the dagger, there's a reverence in the way he handles the weapon. Handling a weapon is a religious action. It ties him to his ancestors, brings him closer to them. They fought so he can walk. He learns how to fight, how to forge, how to maintain his weapons to honor their legacy. Something ancient and reverent in the young man as he handles the weapon. The balance, the craftsmanship-- it's a well built weapon.

"D'you have one?" A gentle question, curious. Setting the dagger down gently, gratefully, as he refocuses on the girl by his side. Closer than he remembered her being, but maybe he was a bit forward. As she touches the pendant, he can't help but feel the pride warming his chest. Feelings he was trying not to let get to his head. "'d like that." More of a smile than he'd usually allow to escape, Erik wouldn't stop himself from enjoying her company.

For the first time in a long time, Erik doesn't tense when someone comes for his neck. Usually it's ma, or Fuji, or Kiriko, or any one of a dozen other healers trying to look at him and fix him. He knows they're trying to help, but feeling like a freak of nature, a science experiment all the time, it feels bad. Ember, though... it's different. For once, Erik still feels like himself. As she reaches out, he gives a gentle nod, a little rumble. Approval.

Tilting his head to allow her the space to look, in parting the fur there's irritation around some of the crystals, particularly the ones that grow around the same level as his vocal cords. To the side, a scar angrier than it should be for its age. A maim from Strai, over two seasons ago, never healed quiet right with constant interruption from the crystals. Nothing but the best care from day one and still, he's a mess. The iron-rich scent of blood on his breath begins to color his words as he speaks.

"Ma said something 'bout residual effects." Erik put the phrase in lazy air quotes. As far as the pain, well. A bit of a nod, though the desire to elaborate outweighs the feeling of sandpaper rising within his throat. "When 's too damp, or I talk too much." A little smile, a twitch of his tail. The light of the forge catching in his crystals and refracting on the walls of the armory, catching in the light on the steel. Erik tilted his head, allowing her space to look, space to examine. Closer than he meant to be, but he's not complaining.

"Speech"