Nura had not attended the festival, not in so many words no. The heavy scents of strangers and food and drink had told her all she needed to know about what the gathering was. And she had other things on her mind. Archon had abandoned his mission, had chosen to settle with a mortal woman and her pack. As far as she was concerned that was sign enough it was time she left, her abilities were wasted on a nephew that would choose to be ruled by mortals, even ones he'd chosen to bed with. So she was making her way down to Auster where the remains of her family made their home, though she worried about their inaction as well. The scents of the pack her nephew had settled in lingered near the festival so she'd mostly avoided it, but curiosity had at least kept her nearby for the next day. The sounds of hawkers calling out their wares told the woman a market had been set up, and this time she allowed herself to drift closer. She chose a merchant a bit aways from the majority of the crowd, the telltale scents of alcohol making it pretty clear what he was selling, her twin bangles giving away her approach. The woman roved her gaze over his ware, impressive considering the clear sightleness of her clouded orbs, before lifting them to nearly meet the man's gaze, though not quite.  She'd never been particularly indulgent but she didn't discount the usage of a good drink in her craft, though she herself found it dulled her already impaired senses more than she often liked. "speech"

The crowds of market day had never appealed to him. As far as Dag was concerned, this wild affair was merely a necessary evil. He'd much rather be brawling, raiding, or drinking alone - or with pleasant, pretty company. Hopefully, with how successful the market seemed to be, Valkyrie would be feeling rather... indulgent. He would have loved to get a drink in her. Above the din, the tinkle of metal reached his ears. Was it Dutch with one of her trinkets? Dag's eyes raked through the crowd, finding no trace of the dward. It was just as well; this wasn't an ideal place for a heavily pregnant woman. Idly, he wondered how her talk with Valkyrie had gone. Probably not well. He could have told her that much. As long as her fealty to the band wasn't compromised, the little lady would be fine. Instead of Dutch, a more refined character appeared: a tall, graceful woman in black with a saddle of burnished gold. She was beautiful like a dark, rich wine - which he proceeded to offer her, as she stared just past him. "Good evening, yndisleg kona," He rumbled, taking note of her blindness. No matter, he supposed. That just meant he could admire her all he liked. "Fancy a sample of my wares? I have a bit of a rich, beautifully aged wine left, if you'd be interested." yndisleg kona - lovely woman "dagfinn bellows!"

A male voice spoke to the woman and she blinked in his direction, the only visible indication she'd heared his words. A brief flash of the vision that had been plaguing her since her nephew's  betrayal flashed before her sightless eyes, blood pouring from more blood, and even then she hardly so much as wavered. Nura took a moment to sniff cautiously at the man's wares, a mixture of sickly sweet and even some surprisingly bitter scents reached her. Of the quality, well that would remain to be seen. "And what would you seek in return?" She spoke, her voice even, almost robotic in it's lack of emotionality. She'd caught the way he'd emphasized the word beautiful. She knew what mortal men often wanted from women but she was hardly concerned over his intentions, as if she'd let herself be bed by any mortal she had yet to approve of. "Everything has a price." "speech"

"For you?" He said, giving her a roguish smile despite the fact that she couldn't see it. "Your first taste is free. Honest. Viking's promise." It was true that their honor held its own form of currency. A promise from a viking was as good as the deed itself done. He was always looking to drink with pleasant company, particularly if that company was a pretty woman. She was refined in a very peculiar way - it piqued his interest. Vaguely, the way she carried herself reminded him of a black and white princess that he had a chance scuffle with on the beach. It was an unspoken air of superiority that turned him on. He liked a woman that seemed like they could destroy him with a look. "Here, try this. It's a got a deep, complex flavor." He brought forth a medium-sized gourd that was still almost full with a rich red wine. It wasn't as popular as his other brews due to its unique flavor, but he was quite fond of it himself. Dag had a feeling she would appreciate it. The smell was enticing enough that she would be able to find it on her own without any further guidance. "dagfinn bellows!"