Stavanger Bay and everybody's got a shine on, walking down dayglow vista road

@Kjalarr

though he'd been only a boy the last time his paws had touched the sands of teekon wilds, the coast was invariably familiar to him.  the fog obscured everything but the silhouette of his birthplace.  he regarded it with little sentimentality, though he tried to cut through the reeds of time to dredge up another memory.  when that failed him, he trailed down the shoreline.

the wayfarer had not made it far into the territory before the scent of another crossed his path.  healthy, male.  the tide flowed gently around his paws as he came to a stop, squinting against the gray to see if the other was near.

stavanger bay was gaining more and more visitors: though if they intended to stay and help re-build the kingdom of his birth, kjalarr knew was in the allfather's paws alone. still, he was not as prickly as he would be soon: with bits and pieces of the bay bearing unestablished borders. once he'd gone through the dull process of scent marking had roughly established the borders then he'd be less likely to allow the passing through his claim.

it does not take kjalarr long to find the stranger, despite the haze that settles over the sandy shore of the bay. a soft chuff leaves the northerner's lips in an effort to garner his attention.

a sound draws his eye.  he follows it to the stranger, withholding, cautious of meeting other lone men this time of year.  when he knows he is safe, he draws forward.  good day, he calls.  am i intruding on you?

the greeting draws kjalarr's ears forth, glad to have garnered the stranger's attention. a moment is given to contemplate the younger man's question. though i am in the process of claiming this bay for my home it is not yet enough claimed for me to be prickly. a soft joke, offering a small twitch of scarred lips. perhaps it was old age had mellowed him out.

i am kjalarr. he offers in introduction.

a reasonable man.  in salazar's eyes, a claim could not be defended until it had been — well, claimed.  he nods slightly.  i am salazar.  he was amused by how their names sounded similar, but kept it to himself.

are you claiming it alone?

salazar.

kjalarr's good eye flickers to movement over the other's shoulder for a brief moment: squabbling gulls whose cries echo out over the soft lull of the ocean; breaking the other tranquil white noise before it rests back upon the young man.

not alone, no, kjalarr replies. there are a few already pledged to its creation. though presently it was woman who had flocked to the northman's budding village — not that he was particularly complaining about that per se. regardless, he does not give name to them yet: protective over them in that way that all leaders tended to be.

he had not asked with intention in mind, but it found him anyway.  if their claim had so many, why were their borders not marked yet?  had they all flocked here at the same time?

how d'you reckon you'd fare with one more?  his demeanor makes it clear that there was no pressure to the suggestion.  salazar was skilled; if this man didn't want him, there would be plenty that would.  i'm a fisherman, a guardian. and though he was a bachelor, he would bring no children to the bay.  he keeps this to himself.

i think we can handle another pledged. kjalarr replies with a soft twitch of his lips; amused. regardless, he wasn't going to turn down an able body, and one who brought with him skills that were different from those of tove and cyrena. though, knowing his own history, having a pawful of medics was not a bad thing.

come, kjalarr drawls. i will give you the tour.