now the wound breeds life

Some bonds mean more than blood, as Björn had been so rudely reminded by his father. Still, his siblings are family, chosen by the gods themselves. The rot prince has his sister by his side, the more reasonable parts of his brain waking back up in her presence. The storms are as external as they are internal, here. A living visualization of the things going on in his head and in his chest, making him feel more alive.

"I don't think we should go closer to the shore, even this far inland probably won't be safe for long." Björn is tense, another tremor shaking the earth beneath his feet. His beliefs won't be shaken, though his trust in his father's gods was a bit less sure than it had been before. "Stories or not, it doesn't look good." Pawing at the cracks in the silty earth, feeling the shifting threaten him in ways Björn certainly doesn't like. Harbinger this and harbinger that, he follows those cracks with his steely gaze.

Drawn by something he can't explain, he begins to trace the cracks with slow, deliberate steps. Nose to the ground, he's searching for the same things he'd smelled within the strange new, spire spiked land. "Lemme know if you smell something burning, okay?" Searching. Scouting. He needs to know.

"Björn"