Stavanger Bay dark before the dawn

Of course Jorunn had no intentions of actually listening to Charon — not that he could understand much of what his elder brother was saying anyway — he was a Ragnarsson. Defiance ran in his genes as sure as his stockings were the color of warm sand on his legs that faded and gave way to the platinum silver, so very much like his deceased father's. It just was, though it might have been only Jorunn that had taken to it so quickly, as he had seemed to do everything else (except his sight). Charon then repeated Jorunn's own screamed word back him, though the older male did not scream it. He chanted it for a small while like a mantra, causing Jorunn's ears of platinum silver to splay back to either side of his head. His too-large head canted ever so slightly to the side as he took in Charon's form, appearing to be monotone — as did everything. Instead of repeating the word, or even attempting to say anything else, Jorunn just gave him a cheeky, toothy grin and chose (for once) to remain silent — not unlike the recently departed Jarl, something that Ragnar did often though Jorunn did not and could not possibly know this quirk to be one he shared.