strangers, all of us.

Located in the middle territory between The Vale and Morðfjall. Set a day or so after this thread.

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The world felt warmer as she trekked through the snow, as if knowing her desires and approving of them even when the cold aura of the King was overhead. Not her King, never hers, but one all the same. She meant to right his wrong. They did not need enemies, ones far or near, and because of the temper that reared his head within Philos, it was her cleaning up the messes.

So she set out, trudging through the familiar snow until it was another peak that crested into view. This one. She had recalled him saying of himself. Not a name, not a rank, but something different entirely. So when she crested the hill, and the snow drifted in parts at her feet, it was with a howl that she called for the stranger.

To discuss, to plan. To apologize. And perhaps she might wonder of the creature he'd assisted, the hindered girl. What had come of her?

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Tagging @Stjörnuáti , Arnarkla will later be tagged as the thread progresses.

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Her call drew him down the mountain as surely as the wind chilled Morðfjall's peaks. His pace was quick and sure, pulled with a summons made by someone he did not know. The gilded male was kept busy between his duties as Jarl and his family, but he was content and happy, even, to do all of it. The call of wanderlust was easily quelled by the adventure around him, the ever shifting lands, the appearance and disappearance of packs around the mountain.

His thoughts fell away as he approached the familiar looking woman, surprise flashing quickly in his eyes at his own recognition of the almost-stranger. Curiosity took over and he dipped his head in greeting an acknowledgment. “Halló. Kona has summoned this one?” What for, he wondered. Had the drengja-konungur — boy-king sent her?
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“To settle qualms.” The words came forth freely, stern upon the lips of a woman from the North. If Cassian did not realize his mistake, Vanille would—every time. If that meant cleaning it up in time too, that much she would do. However much she loathed it, this was her home. Her family. She would not let his dick-headed leadership guide it back beneath the ice.

Kona seemed wise enough to know that any young in power needed the time to learn, the time to grow or fall within the position before outlying packs feasted upon them. Even she, a woman who'd never been in power, knew that much.

The woman's posture straightened as she awaited a reply. She would not apologize. However immature he was, she would not make her leader look weak, not make him work harder to gain the traction they both needed. “And to ask of the creature—the woman—she is well?”

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Settle qualms? Had he sent her? Somehow, Stjörnuáti doubted such fore- sight and thought from the young... prince. He settled on the term prince rather than king, if only because the boy had seemingly not yet learned what it meant to be king. While the gilded northerner did not fault him for that, perse, he did fault him for his childish behavior.

Creature. Stjörnuáti huffed a laugh. It was not directed at the female, more the word she had chosen. “Kona is well. Warrior. Shield-maiden.” She had pushed through her illness until she was alright again. It was a strength he could appreciate. A strength that belonged to the north.

“You...” He searched for the words, brows furrowing slightly. “ráðleggja? Ad...” He rumbled in frustration. “You give counsel to prinsinn — the prince?”
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