Firestone Hot Springs this will never end

A low note came from his throat at the contact, a croon, a short song that the women had drawn from him unexpectedly. He had not been touched like that by a women in some time, and even then, it had only been something fleeting and childish.
Clearing his throat, the man answered, unaware that his shadowy companion was yet close. Já. Goddess Freyja is of love and war, battle, Another word to make him hesitate, a careful consideration of how to say it, though the common tongue escaped and failed him. He could have explained but

Bróðir!

The stareater's head turned, unalarmed and unphased; the language alone gave Solpallur's identity away and if one watched, they might see the very tip of his tip thump against the ground a time or two at the other man's approach. Þú hlýtur að hafa heyrt magann minn öskra, He said, a low chuckle following his words before answering the silent prod of his blood brother.

This Arlette. And then he would look to his fair furred companion to give the name of his brother. Solpallur is this one's bróðir. This one and this one's brother search for hringja. It was a tale he had no problem explaining and for a fleeting moment, he thought to offer Arlette a place with them. He could teach her of many things; the stars, the language, the fight, but something stilled his tongue, at least for the moment.