the way that it shines may just dwindle with time

The darkly colored woman before him turned away, her tattered ear flicking to let him know that she was, indeed, still listening despite that she was no longer facing him. She shook her coat free of the water that had weighed it down, a few of the flying droplets splashing against his nicked muzzle but the scarred man paid it no mind. For as much time as he had spent in the waves of the sea, lately, he was lucky that he had been able to get the sticky salt water out of his fur at all. She answered his question with a sigh, holding Ragnar's rapt attention as she spoke. The names that she offered him held no familiarity with him — not any name that he had ever heard before and therefore likely had no contact with Odinn's Cove up North. Ragnar had always been aware that they had fellow Nords elsewhere in the world and it was a rare treat when he came into contact with one of them; except in the case of Syver, it would appear. His interaction with the boy made him weary of others, but she was not so young and what kind of man would it make him if he grouped everyone together biased as his weariness suggested? Exactly that: a biased man.

One of Odinn's, It had been Odinn himself (or so that was what Ragnar fiercely believed) that had led him to this Bay. Eyes of caribbean ice watched her with a mischievous glint in their glacier depths, when she boldly and coyly stepped up alongside him, the smile she offered him flirtatious. Ragnar smirked coyly at her, intrigued. That depends, Ragnar murmured in response, in his naturally soft, heavily accented voice. On what you can offer me, Ragnar took her in, assessing her with a cant of his head, the scars that marred the left half of his head catching the light. And Stavanger Bay. The Scandinavian added as a sly after thought. Flirting was hardly harmful, he figured, because at the end of the day he was still a hot blooded man. And who was he to not appreciate the fair work of Frigg and Freyja?

TABLE CODE BY JOHN