the mountains are calling

A host, he can't help himself. Taking a long sip of mead before pouring himself another cup, inviting Modesty to join him. There's plenty to go around, and Víðarr is happy to subtly flex the wealth of his people. They'd worked hard, why not enjoy it? A warm smile as his gaze rests on the woman, the giggle unmistakable. Drinking with the viking would be the best kind of dangerous. Ever so relaxed, allowing the warmth to wash over him.

"Talk you out of it? Never." His tail thumped against the stone seating, inadvertently breathing a bit more life into the fire as well. "How about a friendly wager for a friendly test?" Víðarr's smile is light, carrying through to his tone as well. It colors his words, plays with them. The viking king can't help himself.

"Víðarr"