Víðarr was sore, though he'd never admit it. His elder sister had positively handed him his own ass during training, but that was fine. He needed it. He needed to learn. Even with the added protection of his new bracers, of the shirt crafted from plates, she was still faster. The shadow played each practice over and over in his mind as he rested. He'd learn. He'd train. He'd get better-- he already was. That was fine enough.

The trees, the way the branches knit together, Víðarr was becoming more confident in the way he traversed them. Surefootedness came easily to him, but heights... heights had never been his favorite. Still, he'd found a decent spot that overlooked the battlefield and gotten comfortable. The afternoon sunlight dappled the world around him, and Víðarr was grateful for the shade that the trees provided. No, he wasn't hiding. Simply watching from his perch, and letting the world pass by. Though there was still much to do, afternoons (especially warm ones) were for resting.

"Viðarr"

Hanako skirted around the battlefield, her steps light and dainty as she made a point of not even setting a single paw upon it. She didn't think anyone would jump her for looking in the wrong direction, but since she wasn't the sort who gladly partook in spars it was better to be safe than sorry. Instead, she kept on pressing north, heading in the direction of a looming forest with twisted and tangled branches, like something out of a spooky story she'd tell her children. She was a natural explorer and yet she couldn't help but slow to a walk as trepidation settled in her bones, more often than not something went awry when she wandered off on her own. Last year she'd gotten beaten up by creepy dolls and this year she'd grown crystals and lost all of her fur, her track record wasn't good to say the least. Then again, the Long Night had passed and for being this far north the weather was nice enough. Tolerable for a southerner like her.

It was then she noticed a dark figure lounging in the branches just overhead. Like he was some sort of cat...or monkey. Her head tipped to the side, the blue sheen of her inquisitive gaze shone as a smile tugged at her lips. It had been FOREVER since she'd met someone new, her social skills were aching to be put to use.

"How's the view up there?" She asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

From his perch, he can see her at a distance. Viðarr's gaze settled on the woman as she moved daintily around the battlefield... as if setting foot on it might rise up and swallow her whole. What a curious woman. The shadow couldn't help but watch her, icy gaze not unkind as it tracked her overland. There was interest, curiosity from the man where he'd settled. As she came closer, he took in the brilliant colors of her coat, splashed against white. Viðarr was quite certain he'd never seen anything like her.

She spoke as she came near, and Viðarr peered down curiously. "You can come up and see yourself?" His eyebrows lifted. The words were colored thickly with his dense accent. His voice deep as it drifts to the woman, looking to her from his high, comfortable perch.

"Viðarr"

The pale of her ears strained to untangle his accent, strange and thick, obviously not from Boreas or anywhere close. Allowing an easy smile to grace her pretty features, she eyed the branch atop he perched and figured there was no reason to deny his request. Wolves weren't the best climbers, even with cat claws, but it was angled enough that it was almost horizontal. As long as she kept her footing she'd be fine, probably. Making her way into position, she settled beside the stranger with ample space between them. Friendly, but not too friendly, you know? She was an engaged woman after all, mother and bla bla bla.

Setting her sights on the view, she pursed her lips for a moment in thought.

"I suppose it's decent." It took a lot to impress her, fussy fish she was. "So you're just a tourist taking in the sights, or did something else bring you here?" She asked, pressing her front paws together, side by side, all dainty and proper.

The smile that graces her is an awfully pretty sight, and the shadow can't help but take her in. It's casual, not overly eager, but there's interest in his icy gaze. Viðarr knows better than to show too much interest... most of the time. No, he'd remain relaxed and confident. The body language of a man who's not fussed, and entirely at ease in his situation. Her movements were delicate, cautious. It's interesting to him, watching the way she takes the challenge of the trees themselves. Admittedly, Viðarr had fallen on his face more than once as he was adjusting to the woods. The pale woman seems to move easily, though not necessarily naturally, as she settles down by his side.

The distance between them was polite, and Viðarr relaxed a fraction in her direction. She was pretty, and he couldn't go scaring her off, despite the draw. A draw to all manner of pretty things, a moth to flame, he can't help it. He follows the path of her gaze out over the remainder of the woods, and out past them, to the battlefield. "No fights today," he scowled briefly. Viðarr maintained that it was a far more interesting view when there were fights.

His gaze returned to the brilliantly painted woman, a small but confident smile playing on his features. "I come with my family," he explains, still half attempting to piece together the meaning of the word tourist. "For now we camp, but maybe we like it enough to stay." Yes, maybe they like it enough to stay for real. Viðarr certainly did, though some of the others may take more convincing. That would be okay, though. The desire to roam lived in all of their hearts, and if it took an individual then it took them. The fates would pull the strings as they will, who was he to interfere?

"Are you one of these... tourist?" Viðarr tried the word in his mouth. His r sounds were still just a bit rolled, like they would be in his mother tongue. His study of the woman in front of him is careful, watching for a reaction. It didn't seem that the word was insulting, no... contextually, was it how they called wanderers? Travelers? Ah, every day Viðarr was learning new things. That alone was enough.
"Viðarr"