Fox's Glade i had drunk all of my abyss

Wardruna sees her soon enough: his functioning eye zeroing in on her figure as it emerges from the sparse conifers that tower above like evergreen spires. At first, the northerner is not entirely convinced that she is real despite that her scent grows stronger and is laced undeniably with Sif. Hella appears corporeal enough as she stands offering him a delighted chuff that sounds too cheerful, too casual to match the storm that brews and seethes within Wardruna. It’s not her fault; his moods are known to shift from one to the next. Perhaps he is simply more irritable than usual as of late: there is a lot weighing heavily upon his mind at the moment. His movements cease and he lifts his chin, fixing her in his haunting, jack-o-lantern stare. “It has been a while since I have last seen you.” During that time his ability to speak the common tongue has been improving and his tongue does not feel quite so heavy when he speaks the words. He still prefers northern but thus far it is a language he shares only with Sif and that is something that he covets as a dragon hoards and guards treasure. This is all Wardruna speaks for the moment: a simple statement of fact lacking any accusation or questions. It is an invitation for her to indulge on how and where she has spent her time since they last saw one another.