Sleeping Dragon you're seeing black and blue, so i'll paint you a clear blue sky

A soft noise of agreement rumbled in the elegant curve of the Viking Queen's throat for a brief moment though she saw no need to verbally respond for it would have simply been redundant; but she was glad that Gavriel agreed with her. Sometimes, quiet was not a bad thing. It meant that, for the moment, there was peace and no one was attempting to threaten her wolves by ignoring the most basic of their species' laws. The topic of conversation made the switch back to Storm and for a moment Gyda processed the question Gavriel posed to her. “I don't know her plans for him,” The Viking Queen spoke honestly, though this was namely probably because she hadn't cared to ask. She had no love for their prisoner and wouldn't have minded if he'd gotten the boot right that second. “but that is probably because I think he is a waste of space and resources.” She spoke with thinly veiled disgust and a simple rise and fall of her shoulders. It wasn't slaves Gyda minded so much as it was the idea of housing and feeding someone that had committed a crime against their pack. Aside from killing one of her wolves, trespassing was considered right up there in the Loðbrok's mind.

A soft smile played across Gyda's lips as Gavriel informed him that it wasn't the same and that he was not quite used to the terrain that the Dragons called home. “You will, in time,” Gyda assured him with a playful grin and cant to her head. “It took me some time to get used to it as well. I was so used to living by the sea that I still sometimes find myself homesick for it's constant lull.” That which had become a lullaby to her when she was but a child, first in Horizon Ridge and then in Stavanger Bay, and further into her adult year with Odinn's Cove.