Firestone Hot Springs 'cause i'm through, when the two

no problemo!

and his call was heard. a woman approached; her figure small on the horizon when rökkur's gaze settled upon her. slate and stormy, with a dark face and limbs. the black diamond upon her forehead framed olive eyes, of which he met with his own embers once she drew close enough. he moved towards the side of the basin, allowing her space, should she wish to enter the steaming waters.

her tone did not go unnoticed, but he regarded it simply: our sanctuary, he corrected, norse decorating his tongue. forneskja's. nonchalant, one could say. but in truth, the warmth almost seemed to mellow him. relaxed. cloudy tendrils flicked at her pelt, raising to the sky before they dissipated.

y'var'la, she said. he nodded his head, polite. her name spilled from her lips with grace, like a swan gliding across a lake. she asked for his own, then, and he would speak it without such cadence: rökkur, he said. the shadow flicked his tail beneath the pools surface, a movement that was slow; thick with water. the water is warm, if you wish to bathe. an open invitation. he would shift the conversation, then.

regarding their shared scent, he spoke: when were you recruited? he said this with a hum. past the sulfur, it was clear that she may not have the rest of the forneskja wolves. it was his honour to be one of her first, then. a shared loyalty to the hárkonungr