bourbon and rye

(OOC: direct continuation of the other thread but don't want to wait for the spar and the judging so skipping over the spar part and any "good show old chap"s between Esti and Katja and going straight to after Esti has left.)

The fight over, Katja turned to the two young wolves once again. She reveled in the aftermath of battle, in the pull of muscles and the ache of wounds. "Jeg beklager," she spoke, the cool calm of her voice once more restored. Battle had a way of making everything once more straightforward, the way forward always so much more clear when you had to depend on training and logic rather than the subtleties of emotion and sentiment. She could look on them now and not see Auora in the male, and herself in the female. She could see two young nordmenn, strangers, raised in a different culture than that of Alacratia. It was a difficult realization to make, difficult to adjust to. She herself had rejected the soft social conventions of this place. Would they, too? she wondered. Or would they choose to integrate into Alacratia's culture? They held no pack scent upon them - perhaps she could prevail upon them to join Yfir.

"Du er norsk, ja? Kan jeg spørre hva som bringer deg så langt fra hjem?" She did not bring up Auora again, for there were many wolves who resembled Auora to a greater or lesser degree - even Sigmarr had looked remarkably similar, and he was in no way related - though she was curious about what had prompted the gods to place this pair in her path now.