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omg lets do it <3

young, exhausted, and motivated by hunger, torgar's ears lifted at this offer of food. it dismayed him that sólúlfur's call had gone unanswered, but they were many here in this place. it was to be expected then, that he would need to wait. oh, well. at least his belly would be filled and he would be warm. hvor mange er der her? (how many are here?) torgar asked, and then his grin teased.
må jeg vide det? eller tror du, jeg er spio? (may i know? or will you think me a spy?) naught but an edgy boy he was, and one who might well ruin his own interview here this day.
but his eyes danced with mirth; torgar could not help himself, and missed dagfinn terribly in that moment. he hoped his brother was hale and happy, stuffed with food and provided with a soft bed. grief began in his throat, but under no circumstance would it find voice until he was well and alone.

Skill:

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The crisp morning air brought snow, a welcome treat for the warm season. It was mornings like these where the Pillar would pull herself from the den early, enjoying the silence that the cold brought and enjoying the dazzle of the snow against a cloud-shrouded sunrise. The bull would inhale deeply, casting the sleep from her gaze as she glanced toward the familiar contours of the Vale. Her shoulders would roll, stretching the ache from her muscles as she set off, locked in to her morning routine.

Normally, it was quiet.

But today, she would hear the chatter ... and she would catch the unfamiliar, steely scent of glacier water and spiced evergreen. Tiberii's dark ears would pivot, cupping toward the sound of the voice and relaxing only slightly when she heard the familiar tones of Sólúlfur's lilting replies. The words that were shared were unfamiliar to her naive ears, but that did not stop her from moving in their direction to meet the Black Sun and her companion.

Oi, hello there, came her greeting, rough but edged with the warmth of the fire that stirred in her soul. Tiberii's warm gaze would land first on Sólúlfur, her dark lips pulling upward into a grin as she dipped her head toward her companion. And then her gaze would roll, continuing toward the unfamiliar male in her presence. Who's yer friend, Sól? Her words were clipped, yet not unfriendly, a curiosity lingering in her voice.

Who had Sólúlfur picked up in the heart of the plague?

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Torgar asked a thoughtful question, but his grin turned to wicked mischief a moment later. Solulfur eyed him with mostly feigned caution out of the corner of her eye as he continues. A chuffing laugh rumbled from the she-wolf's chest, then, even as Tiberii's familiar looking shadow took shape on the horizon.

Ég geri ráð fyrir að það sé bara það sem njósnari myndi segja, en styrkur okkar anda er það sem fær okkar stað á fjallinu. Það eru vel yfir tugi úlfa í okkar röðum og það skemmir ekki að hafa heldur. (I suppose that is just what a spy would say, but our strength of spirit is what earns our place on the mountain. There are well over a dozen wolves in our ranks, and that doesn't hurt to have either.)

Tiberii's greeting seemed clipped - or, Solulfur was simply too used to the woman's usual warmth, stripped of her of late thanks to their losses. This is Torgar. Torgar, this is our First Class of Power, Tiberii - a fine choice for a spar, once you're settled. Torgar sought our borders, and I feel he would make a fine and well-rounded recruit. Despite his age, but Solulfur would not insult him by making mention of his obvious youth. '"His Common is not so good, but we ought to be able to make do.""

torgar had made sólúlfur laugh, it seemed, and his own came easily with a flash of strong white teeth. but this faded and he became sober as they were joined by a third, a tall and muscular woman whose bearing reminded him of eivor herself. this presence, however, was far more imposing, gained in height and thickness above torgar himself.
he was at once impressed, and it showed upon his face, not lessening as he looked to sólúlfur and saw how she matched this counterpart in power. tiberii, he heard in the greetings. they were over a dozen strong here, and each had surely earned their own place. the first woman spoke in two tongues, and torgar, unsure of how to answer, chose to say nothing.
his eyes were clear and stance balanced beneath any further appraisal, for he wished to be counted among them at once.

Skill:

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I am sorry this sucks. I had a whole post and deleted it by accident.
I WEEP.

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Tiberii sometimes forgot the weight her presence held — both physically, and emotionally. She noted the way the smaller male regarded her, quiet and optimistic. He practically quaked before her, a knight awaiting the sword to fall gently upon his shoulder ... awaiting acceptance. His youthful expression softened her, and she recalled the optimism of her own youth.

Sólúlfur spoke with a fondness toward the youth, offering him to Dawnbreak as a recruit. And Tiberii's gaze would shift for a moment toward her friend, the thin line of her lip breaking into a familiar, warm smile.

She was suffering, but she was not a monster. At least, not yet.

It's nice ta meet ya, Torgar, the bull would start, turning her face back toward him as she cupped her ears in his direction. Sólúlfur had said he didn't speak much common. S'okay, she'd continue, allowing the warmth of her smile to spread across her face. My common ain't up ta snuff most times, either. It was her way of making a joke, and she'd laugh lightly, filling the space as she waited for the younger male to say anything.

'Course ya can stay if ya'd like, she'd tell him, tilting her head for a moment. Ya'll 'ave ta tell me what else ya like ta do though, 'cause Sólúlfur has offered ya up fer some sparrin' otherwise. The bull's golden eyes would flicker with playful fire.

Was she above sparring with a teenager?

Absolutely not.

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