Thistle's mumbled concur that she deserved much more than flowers made a small smile break the Viking's stoic facade, genuine and soft as it teased the edges of his lips. A soft chuckle rose up the strong column of the scarred man's throat, pushing effortlessly betwixt his lips as he glimpsed at her from the corner of his eye, rolling it with affection at her. Only Thistle could honestly get away with talking back to him as she did. Under more than most circumstances Ragnar hated to be talked back too, and coming from anyone else it felt like a direct challenge to his authority; but it was
Thistle and it wasn't like her spitfire attitude was anything new to him. Thistle had been that way with him from the start, and it was the chase that she gave him that had intrigued him the most, initially; and even then being (one of) his wife(wives?) did have it's perks. Ragnar knew that Thistle would tell him what he
needed to hear, whether he liked what she had to say or he didn't. Her ministrations on his shoulder, and the feel of her tongue against the scarred side of his face had the Scandinavian humming softly in his throat.
Keep the bed warm for me while I'm gone, He murmured huskily, moving so that he could run his tongue over the velveteen fur of her ear. Goodbye my Shieldmaiden. He offered her one last kiss before he detached himself from her side with a great reluctance and turned, his gaze fixated upon the free territories beyond the safety of their Bay. He had made a promise when he had first stepped up to leadership, even before he claimed the title of Jarl of Odinn's Cove that he would always protect those within his borders. Their lives were his responsibility, and he knew that this was something he had to do for Julooke — no matter the cost.
With a last glance back at her he offered her a wolfish grin before he crossed over the threshold of their borders, his direction North, knowing that he wouldn't stop hunting until he'd found the man responsible.
