“Some just lay in many beds,” Dagrún offered with a soft smirk, making light of Ragnar’s whore-mongering that he generally assumed that she knew of, though he had yet to learn of this lovely creature’s relationship with his brother. Although, it wasn’t as if Dagrún had any sort of room to speak on the matters of being promiscuous. The temporary glint of instinctual and feral fury that was gone as soon as Dagrún blinked that had been held in the girls’ eye made the dark Viking wonder but was quickly diminished when she spoke her name and that the children in her womb indeed belonged to his half brother. “It’s not surprising,” Dagrún spoke simply with a shrug, speaking at Ragnar’s character rather than the girl’s own. She looked young, and he could only assume that - while harsh and ruthless Ragnar could be charming when he needed to be - she had been pulled under by that charm, as most females had been back in the Cove. There had been an endless line of females desiring to breed with him, that if Dagrún was lucky would settle for Ragnar’s half brother instead.
“Our brother is an idiot,” Dagrún responded in a gruff grumble, letting his initial irritation seethe upon his face. “He tries too hard to be Ragnar, stealing Sif behind Ragnar’s back as he had, and now imitates him poorly. It’s a disgrace to idly sit by and watch,” Dagrún admitted figuring it was safe to tell her these things given he assumed she knew much already. It was Floki’s name and Thistle’s apparent concern for their madman healer that piqued the dark Viking’s interest the most. “Floki? You know of him?” Her apparent concern for him was fascinating to the dark Viking who wondered if the madman had slipped out before him. “Missing Ragnar, no doubt, but last time I checked he was well. Gathering and sorting through his herbs and berries and plants like he always does.”