Gyrfalcon's Keep and when the weeds begin to grow

Thyra was proud to be able to speak more than one language, and felt complimented when Exousia expressed appreciation for her skills. Her tail picked up an amicable wave. She caught a hint of regret in Exousia's tone as well, which intrigued her. Her head tilted. "You speak other languages as well?" She asked, willing to extend the same appreciation that had been bestowed upon her only moments earlier. 

Her name sounded strong, to Thyra. And when she admitted she was looking to form her own pack, Thyra wasn't the least bit intimidated. Instead, her interest was piqued- and she would have asked more, had the same not been requested of her. "We live to preserve our belief in the Old Gods, which are very many, and it is to them that we pray, and from them that our purpose is interpreted by our High Priestess, Asvoria. We uphold the noble virtues, and teach them within our pack so that we may live a life of peace, in comfort. It is a good life to have, I think it is healthy and good to have faith." She said. In admitting this, she was reminded of her previous pack, which had fallen away from their beliefs- which was why Asvoria, Solveig and Thyra had left. It made her expression sadden slightly, but as soon as she felt the corners of her eyes droop, she brought a smile to her face again. 

"It is a good place to live. And this mountain range is lovely, ya?"