drink to the power

The viking king is warm, his smile genuine. Warm. They're straight shots, the both of them, but he's glad there's mirth here too. "Asking. I never want to hold you back, I respect you too much for that." The words are gentle, spoken with a weight that rests heavily in the space between them.

Víðarr's tail wags, thumping evenly on the broad, warm rock beneath them. "There are a couple good spots, I think. One so close we could connect it, with some work. Another with more breathing room, if you prefer." In truth, he'd already set about clearing both of debris, getting them livable. Drawing everyone close and together for another winter on the mountain was par for the course, or so he'd tell himself.

"Víðarr"