Broken Boulder agnik-miu

Kigipigak could not help the smirk that dawned upon his iceborne face. The older man sounded a bit exasperated but he thought nothing of it; taking the commentary as idle chatter, but amusing even so.

He resisted the urge to share his own point of view: that the beasts of the southlands were all ill-equipped and if anything, the fact they burrowed like first-time mothers at the sight of some white flakes was disappointing.

What caught Kigipigak off-guard was the other comment — the way that Mahler veered the conversation from one joke to another was almost jarring, and caused the bemused expression to falter on Kigipigak's face. 

A slight frown creased his brow. You offer much to a stranger. Which made Kigipigak wonder after the health of the man after all; perhaps he was too old to perform on his own. You are the issumatar — the, ah, master of this place, yes? You have your own pick of wives. 

The truth of the matter was, Kigipigak had not thought to take a wife for himself. The work he'd put in for Stjornuati — well, for Valmua — hadn't sparked much interest inside of him. Without anyone to stop him now, though, perhaps it would be worth the consideration.