Firestone Hot Springs this will never end

He followed as best he could, listening to the woman weave her tale with a voice that could soothe a crying babe. While the Nordic man had his own spiritual tendencies, he was not so set in his ways that he dashed away what she described. The more he listened, the more Stjornuati found that, in a way, Arlette's beliefs ran parallel to his own in that they honored the dead that moved on to watch over the world and those they left behind.

The smile she offered was taken in with dark eyes, a gaze that softened around the edges. Ice man or not, the female was pleasant — both to spend time with and to look at — and he found himself ruminating over her words, nodding gently in response. For all that he could not understand of her language, he understood the gist and sought to learn from her this night as well.

Your steinar, you say... Warrior, The word was said with a proud, fierce tone, that brought the smallest of grins to his stony maw; he had learned a new word this day and though he felt as though a babe, he reveled in his ability to catch on. Móðir, Faðir, May... Myden? As she had stumbled with his name, so did he stumble with the names of her stones, his brows furrowing in his own frustration. What is this Myden? What did it mean? Was he even pronouncing it correctly?