running down to the riptide.

I'm not trying to rush this or anything but wanna wrap this up with another post or two? If you'd like to keep going past that, it's fine as well (and I'll always be up for another thread at any time, regardless <3). :D

For a while there was only silence between them, comfortable for Ragnar who did not usually become very verbose unless the situation called for. The Viking did not feel the need to fill every silence with entirely meaningless and empty chatter. Ragnar, for the most part, tended to be a quiet man, mostly because he was always thinking about something, regardless of if it pertained to the conversation he was holding with another or not. Surra admitted when Ragnar gave his warning regarding the Loðbrók children, that he wouldn’t mind their loudness, obnoxious-ness, or their tendency to bite everything they could sink their little milk teeth into, including but not limited to, ears, legs, paws, tails, and scruffs if allowed to reach that. Ein, especially with the scruff. Perhaps the eldest son thought it was retribution for all the times he had been grasped by it. “My eldest, you will know him when you see him, he is as dark as a moonless night with silver markings under his eyes reminiscent of my adult son, with toes the color of Thistle’s fur, he will go for your scruff if you are in a climbing position. I suspect it’s his way of seeking retribution for all the times we pick him up by his,” Ragnar murmured with obvious fondness even if the little pin pricks of their sharp little teeth hurt. “More or less everything is fair game though.”

Ragnar gave them bones to chew but he suspected the need to chew on warm and furry things was their hunting instincts kicking in, being honed by what was available to them: their parents, their sitters, and each other. The males paused when they reached the stream and Ragnar took a moment to lap at the cool, crisp and inviting water himself, letting the cool liquid splash from his tongue into his mouth, rejuvenating him and hopefully soon his bladder. It was annoying when there was still work to be done and he couldn’t produce urine enough to keep up with it. “She gets out more now that the children are older and we have sitters, Julooke and my foster son, Sköll.” Ragnar couldn’t say adopted because that would imply that Floki and Helga were gone or otherwise uninterested in their son’s life which wasn’t the case, they simply were attempting to patch up the mess Váli made of the Cove as he went; despite the Sköll was nearly a man full grown Ragnar had known him since before his birth and he had been appointed the boy’s God father of sorts, so it was effortless to see Sköll as a son, too.