Stavanger Bay remember learning that saints

soft lavender eyes peer at him; assessing him. he has never felt ashamed of the scars that riddle him: from the blinded left eye and the ugly scars that marred the flesh 'round it, to the shadow mark made by potema upon his trouble hindquarter. they are marks of victory, of survival.

he watches the progression through reactions, satisfied with the dip of her head and greeting. old age appeared to have mellowed him out much: though it remains to be seen if he will have the same forgiveness when plans finally came to fruition.

izumi, he greets using the name she offered him. i am kjalarr. konnungar of this bay. or he would be, once it formed. but that was neither here nor there. i will escort you thru my bay. it was not a question: it was a soft command. if she did not wish to backtrack that was fine: but he would shackle her with his company all the same; at the very least until she was outside of his borders.

a soft pause is given before he inquires: what brings you here, traveller?

after a few more words are exchanged — they split ways, kjalarr seeing her outside of the bay amiably.