Witch's Marsh please let me blaze

would siv see him here and now, his milkmother might've been proud of him. she'd always been trying to temper his caliginous nature, for the legendary berserker supposedly reborn was not meant to be as hungry as the serpent that would swallow the world come ragnarok. maybe there are lessons that can only be learned by leaving mother's bosom. but the girl — sakh, as he now calls her — is seeming to switch from fear to gentleness.

and how should he answer that? with flashing teeth and bloodthirst? no.

... i — words to gods. words ...and other things. i ...give? ...words to gods. it sounds more like a question — about his sentence structure, more than anything else. ég bið til guða, it feels relieving to speak so effortlessly in the old tongue, despite that he has already gathered she does not understand it.

a firm nod is given as she repeats his nickname for her — because it is much easier for his tongue, too clumsy with the common, to speak. you. sakh. gleipnir affirms, to communicate that he understands now. she is sakh.