Ankyra Sound not afraid of the storm that comes my way

She dismissed it as past, as if it were something so easy to just brush under the rug. Kjalarr felt a slight frown tug at the corners of his lips, unwilling to believe that anything like that was so easy to dismiss but out of respect and because he did not know her he stayed silent, allowing her to whisk it away. “My birth home, Stavanger Bay is gone now,” And for reason that Kjalarr could not readily explain it roused a slight ache within him. Likely because like his father before him there was a sort of connection to the ancient forest and the sea, something that transcended his understanding if only because his knowledge of what blood coursed through his veins, what he was as a viking was all but non existent. He had been too young when he'd been swept away from his family to have retained anything he might have known at that time.

“But my older brother decided they were going to move in my absence, I guess, so that's where I'm heading,” He still wasn't sure what to make or think of Charon. He felt like he ought to look up to him and trust him unquestioningly as his place as “older brother” but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. “I want to at least try to reconcile with the family I'd lost.” Whether he would be successful at it or not was largely unknown, and Kjalarr followed up his words with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “What about you? Do you live here alone?” He couldn't help but ask.