Cerulean Cape In an upside down world, floating in a pineapple

kjalarr allows a smirk to ghost across his lips as she explains why she thinks his name suits him. yet, he knows it only sounds rugged because it is a name from his father's native tongue. in the end, though, kjalarr does not press further. he does not argue. likely, there's no use. so, instead, he makes an inquisitive hum in the back of his throat but makes no further verbal remarks about his name or her assessment. she appears willing enough to change the subject. she mentions a story and his ears slick back to rest at half mast atop his skull, canting his scarred muzzle up ever so slightly. the northmen were known for their bragging tendencies but kjalarr was not the type of man to weave tall tales about giants to detract from the truth. he was no hero. he was the monster. his stories were something out of a nightmare; the choices he's made devoid of the 'standard' moral compass are hellish. he is a beast of survival; a cat to a canary. he is not afraid to make the hard decisions and not afraid to live with them afterwards. "they are all hellish stories." he deadpans in warning ...but it was not necessarily a 'no'. if she insists he will pick one, perhaps one that is of the lesser evil in his growing collection and he will tell it to her.

"seer?" he inquires, picking up on that word with an acute sharpness. he is familiar with the term, of course. it'd been foretold that he had seer blood, once upon a time, when he was just a boy and there had been distinct rings of silver around his pupils, cracking through carribean blue. now, of course, only one eye functions ( and looks ) as it was originally intended to. the other, iridescent and frosty sees only writhing shadows and never evaporating fog. it has felt like lifetimes since he's heard the gods or even felt them. seeing them seems even more unlikely than the previous two. "how do you know you don't?" kjalarr counters after a moment and a bird-like cant of his head. "have you ever tried to hear the gods?" kjalarr isn't sure if her gods are the same as his own; or if she has any gods at all. he associates the term 'seer' with his own culture, his own religion even though he realizes he could be dead wrong. still, the prospect of coming across a northerner in the wilds that isn't related to him ( and thus by principle doesn't immediately hate him ) is ...hopeful.