---

The Oracle seemed amused with him, ever so subtly, her demeanor like fog dissipating in the sun or water moving beneath unbreakable ice. Trygve only pouted slightly, visibly trying not to roll his eyes, when she failed yet again to give him a straight answer. The only things she could really tell him were the mechanics of the reading, but not the details, it seemed.

His gaze dropped away, and he replied with a mild mannered I see, as she explained what the bones' cast meant.

A simple affirmation, once again. The witch was as good as answering her questions as she was avoiding his. Trygve opened his maw to ask more, interest piqued and loathe to leave tolerable company so soon, when the Oracle spoke again.

The mingled light and dark hairs along his spine lifted slightly, as if he'd seen a ghost. My name is Trygve, the boy corrected her simply, as if it was a simple mistake, but he avoided the woman's gaze now and only stared dully at the bones. Is that why you're here, this trouble in the North? Where exactly she was referring to, he had no idea. His navigation skills left something to be desired - he'd spent his childhood trailing idly in the wake of Akira, and now followed the wind toward the sea. Simple, and not requiring much awareness of the world around him at large.

Skill: n/a

Trygve, he corrected, and Urdr paid it no mind. Just another name that she would likely forget as it mattered not to herself. The only sign he gave her was his body's reaction, but she once more cared not. Skjoldrheim was alone in a vast world, just as she. It meant little for her to meddle in their dynamics.

He had another question as she began to dig at the dirt beneath the bones, returning them to the earth where they may decompose.

No, that message is for you alone, Whatever he made of it was up to him. Urdr could only do so much in this body, and telling him his future was not entirely possible. Not fully. She began to push the soil atop the bones until she could no longer see them. She had no more questions for them.

I am looking into the plague that is spreading. It has yet to reach here, but I do not doubt it will be long. The water in the mountains just north is already oozing with filth. Her voice was a void.

Do not drink it.

---

No, Urdr said, That message is for you alone.

Trygve scowled at her, thoughtful behind his almost childish pout. He had more questions, but the matter seemed concluded. And the woman was covering the bones, now, hiding them from view. Their answers disappeared with them, with just a few intent brushes of her silver paw.

Poisoned water, a plague in the north; she was full of warnings, each more dire than the next. Trygve gave her an appreciative nod; he would try to avoid going north, then, for he knew he would have a hard time telling poison from safe water, until it was too late. Then, a blasé shrug. Well, that explains your death haunting, witch: The plague, and its rotten waters. The connection seemed clear to him, but how did he factor into it? How strange. I don't know what you expect me to do about it.

His mouth twisted, an expression stained with disgust. I am cursed.