Duskfire Glacier with fists like atom bombs

vilkas' ears cup forth and swivel in an attempt to discern her exact location as the sound of her footfalls is carried and echoes along the cave's inner mouth and cavern walls. he knows she is coming from the same cave he did, at least, but he cannot switch off the instinctual reaction of his body as his gaze sweeps the darkness looking for a silhouette — anything. he finds her gaze — the burning orange of twin setting suns — in the darkness and a very vague, shadowy outline of her muzzle. the rest of her, however, remains blended well into the shadows as if she is one with the darkness of the cave.

she speaks, to vilkas's surprise, drawing his attention — which had turned to the illuminated pool he stands so very close to with vague interest — back to her fiery gaze. there is a soft, very slight tremor to her voice that did not escape the warrior's notice but he does not capitalize upon it. this encounter doesn't have to go sour; but he understands the weariness. "for now." the jorrvaskr native responds coyly. he has nothing to hide and though it might present itself as such: he's not trying to hide. "what about you? are you a nobody as well?" vilkas inquires, curious as to if she'd play his own jest against him ( which would only be fair, he allows ) or give him an actual name.

at her question, vilkas lifts his seaweed green gaze from her to analyze the cavern, the broken bedrock that filters in sunlight over the waterfall, back to the waterfall and pool that must lead back out or else the cavern would no doubt be underwater. "i haven't the faintest idea," vilkas admits, returning his gaze to her fiery orange one. "i'm not from around here." and as a result every territory was foreign and a new discovery for him.