{j} perfectly reckless

The earthen kissed male did not answer Sköll’s presented question in his native tongue and this left Sköll with the only assumption that he could presently make: Majesty did not speak Norse and therefore they would serve to have a major issue. Orange eyes stared back mercilessly when the woman glared at him when he growled at her making Sköll feel like he was mentally being accused of being in the wrong for baring his teeth and stating his displeasure without putting it into words. The Tiny Viking let out a sharp snort, eyes going back to Majesty when the leader of the Isle known because of the dominate puff of his chest which had been maybe a little unnecessary since Sköll felt like it meant he needed to submit when he was already submitting in the first place, when the man fixed the woman in an impassive stare, his tone suggested chiding though his words were lost upon the Northman.

The barks and gestures towards the Isle did not work to communicate all that well with Sköll either, though it was not for a lack of trying on either man’s part. The twins were most decidedly in for the worst chiding of their short lives when Sköll got a hold of them. …If they ever made it to the Teekon Wilds, that was. Sköll was not used to such jovial and easy going expressions and therefore was, in his frustration, unable to make any sense of what was just barking and gesturing to him. He had once been praised for his high level of intelligence, by his father, by Ragnar who was the most clever of their pack but now he wondered if they had been lying to him because he didn’t feel very smart at that moment. Instead he felt really, really stupid.

When the woman whispered to him in his native tongue forgive me, low so that Sköll assumed only he had heard the Tiny Viking recoiled as if she had reached out and slapped him across his muzzle. She hadn’t but the shock of hearing those two words in his native tongue left him in a bit of a stupor coupled with the begrudging realization that she might be able to translate for him. Of course the idea of relying on someone else (especially with something so vital) was spurred instantly by the male pride Sköll exhibited. Not to mention he did not know her and furthermore couldn’t trust her to even translate correctly for him. It wasn’t as if he could understand much of the common tongue and therefore would be relying, solely upon another creature. He didn’t like it …not one bit but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Majesty and him weren’t communicating effectively and slowly the Tiny Viking rose out of his submission and glimpsed from the earthen colored male offering him what little he could. “Sköll,” The wolf that would eat the sun in Ragnarök. Not him personally, but it was from the god-like creature the Tiny Viking borrowed his name. “I am Sköll.” He spoke each word slowly, the confusion on his face expressing that he wasn’t really sure if he was using the correct words to tell Majesty his name.

It was only then that he turned to the rude woman who spoke his native tongue fixing her in his stare. “geturðu Þýtt?” It stung him to have to stoop down to the level of desperation he had reached, having to trust a rude stranger to translate for him. It was a tentative trust that would either be broken or made depending on what she did in return. “getur Þú sagt honum að ég leita til að taka Þýtt pakki hans?” He paused and then added, softly, “vinsamlegast.” If she refused he would figure some other way out. He wasn’t groveling and he would never beg her (he wasn’t that desperate), but he figured that asking usually didn’t ever hurt.