Ears flickered forth when a woman came stalking up to him, her irritation a palpable thing writhing off of each tendril of her fur like one of medusa’s snakes (wrong mythology, I know) causing Bragi to lower himself in abstract confusion checking around him to make certain that he hadn’t crossed into borders though he knew he hadn’t. She growled in old Norse, a language he knew better even than the common tongue though he was equally fluent in both, something about her husband keeping ‘it’ to himself that obviously had something to do with him but wasn’t exactly able to piece together the implied meaning of her words. Not knowing her husband it only severed to make little to no sense to Bragi. “Uh,” The youth made a noise in his throat, brow furrowing in his confusion, hesitating to ghost a step back assuming that she was unstable emotionally.
As she spoke to him, introducing herself and then proceeded to say she was pretty certain why he was there…which was particular to Bragi because he wasn’t even sure why he was really there at least on the level she implied. His mother had not stated why he couldn’t stay at Odinn’s Cove but only that Váli had some sort of altercation with him despite that he was just a child still. His nose twitched as a sweet scent rose from her fur — what he would come to learn as heat — though it clung not to her specifically but to another female she had been near. “I can speak the common tongue,” He responded in a voice that was as accented as any wolfs’ that came from the Cove, his tones still boyish but soft even still.
Unable to help himself the boy issued this Thistle Cloud a small coy little smirk that tugged effortlessly at the edges of his lips. “Why am I here?” He inquired interested in hearing her theory.