skill: curator 2/5

It didn't surprise him when Tiberii came into view. His features softened around the mouthful he was carrying. He was trying not to drop anything as his smile shifted his hold, and he didn't want her to see the shine that came to his eyes. He felt the threat of tears, although threat was a very negative way to talk about it. Perhaps the promise of tears for later, given that he was so happy for them. He felt like he had some sort of knowledge that no one else did, and he wasn't going to just blurt out that he'd had the most Interesting conversation with Shiloh recently. No, Vidarr had to play it safe for the sake of ensuring that things happened right as they were meant to happen. He had to just sit back and watch.

Gods above, he hoped that he could still his tongue.

He took stock of how she appeared, and it was so strange. He had stopped seeing any of Tiberius in her - hell, in any of them. Sometimes he couldn't even recall the sound of Tiberius' howls. Now each of the Shakti-Vaes stood on their own four feet. The Chieftain was left long ago in the past. Dawnbreak had stood against the very world exploding, and all of Mythris had banded together. They had done something magnificent in that. He was lucky that the first place he'd tried was where Tiberii was, and his tail gave a happy wag before he set the bundle down and approached her.

He didn't know how long it would take him to get used to the echo of her voice now, but it was the same and so strange to see the whisper of blue smoke that rose from him when he was still. He was one of the few who was able to look Tiberii in the eyes, so it was with ease that he leaned close to press his forehead to hers. Eldrtarfr. (Firebull) He greeted warmly. He stayed there for a beat before he stepped back to take in another look at her.

It is tradition to provide offerings to Frigg for a healthy pregnancy and birth. Vidarr explained as he nosed the little bundle of herbs to show her the chamomile and lavender. I am not very good with herbs, but I remember my own mother gathering such bundles for the women of the clan. There was some part of him that sought out the roots of his existence. He wanted to then have those roots sprout and bloom as they crossed with the present. The antler is to save your ankles, with any luck. He grinned at her then, and he wondered how much of the boys' infancy she might remember. She had been so young then too, after all.

How are you? The look he gave offered the deeper question. He didn't need to say - honestly, how are you really?