Ankyra Sound you're just a ghost

Kjalarr watched the exchange between the female and Slancio, hackles bristling slightly as she attempted to steal it from the male. Clearly, the woman did not understand the notion of share. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he should intervene or allow them to work it out on their own. It was a moment of great irony for the Loðbrok, so very ready to play mediator as he was, for usually he was the one instigating the fight. “You should learn to share,” Kjalarr did address the female but his words went largely ignored he realized as she left them just as quickly and silently as she'd came. He looked to Slancio and simply offered the other male a sheepish rise and fall of his broad shoulders. The truth was: he knew not who she was or why she had acted the way she had and could offer no insight for Slancio.

At the poetic mention of painting the sea's red, Kjalarr couldn't help the devilish smirk that tugged at the edges of his muzzle. That sounded grand. To hunt with reckless abandon: to have the energy to hunt for the pack and then for one's self without feeling inherently guilty about it. Though the strange female had left, Kjalarr had been affronted by her behavior towards them and his thoughts kept circling back to it. “I have to admit I do not know who that was,” Kjalarr spoke. “Perhaps she is new, perhaps she is not but if she gives you further trouble or ignores your rank again, come find me and I will take care of it.” Kjalarr promised. To the dual silver and sand colored viking rank was everything and he could not abide insubordination by any means (though he'd been insubordinate enough in Moonspear, ironically). “If I need to, I will speak to Caiaphas about her.” Though Kjalarr could not know that it wouldn't be necessary for long for the female would eventually take her leave.