Herbalists' Cache you know i'm going under

Kjalarr watched as she hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she wished to take flight or remain as he felt her eyes study him. Though Kjalarr had more or less put thoughts of his father to rest, he wondered about him now. He was told that he looked like him — like Ragnar. Same build, same handsome craft of the deceased legend's face, only different. Thistle made her presence known in Kjalarr's looks as well, but his intimidation no doubt came from the legend himself. Thistle had been small and albeit plenty of fire to make up for her size the fact remained. He was built like a viking. Though (surprisingly) Kjalarr did not give much thought to how he looked to others, he had moments when he took the time to groom himself and then there were other times when he wasn't much fussed with his own appearance.

Her eyes had seemed to widen and he bit back the soft chuckle that threatened to escape him. Though his ability to intimidate upon appearance alone was a useful thing the truth was, unless she did anything to change it, he was of no threat to her. He wasn't a mindless berserker. He didn't go attacking people for no reason. No, he thought wiry (with slight exasperation), he only attacked bears for no reason. Twice and nearly lost his life both times. Admittedly, the first time he'd been too naive to realize the danger, and having snuck off with his twin he had been unsupervised and the second time he'd been driven by reckless abandon to prove himself to the point where he could have been considered well...suicidal; but that felt like a life time ago now.

She smiled and Kjalarr returned it with an easy smile of his own. “It's pretty amazing,” Kjalarr murmured in concurrence, glimpsing at the multitude of medicinal plants around them. “My mother would love this place,” but he hadn't seen or spoken to his mother in months, and despite his plea she had not came to talk to him. She'd turned her back on him and this sudden thought — one that had not occurred to him until now — left a bitter taste in his mouth and with an eagerness to think about anything else but her. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I don't know anything about them either.” He didn't have the patience to learn how to heal, and no true desire to learn the craft though he held it in high enough esteem. He recognized that it was important to have medics but he simply wasn't cut for the role of doctor.