drink to the power

He doesn't have to wait for long-- Víðarr didn't expect that he would. Dark tail flickering at his haunches as Kiela's scent is picked up by the friendly breeze, and then as she melts into view. There was no need to rush. There had never been. Instead, he remains stretched out regally, sipping his mead and enjoying the peace.

Víðarr has found that Kiela is among the few who don't disturb that peace-- adding to it, instead. A short list, prized company. His muzzle is gentle as it brushes fondly against her cheek, a greeting. Wordlessly offering to share his mead, as they sit in the warmth of the sun.

"Even more, now." A smile plays across his face, one he doesn't bother to conceal. "You are well?" Víðarr's tone is gentle, the care genuine. Gaze gentle, where it rests on her face.
"Víðarr"