Common

In the warm afternoon sun he stands idle in the frothing surf as it bubbles and hisses around his ankles. A wound jaggedly splits across his ribs, ugly and edged with crusty blood. So much has transpired over the recent days, he battled with his brother and then returned home to find Lily and Elvira had left for the War. His wound was a gift from his brother, and now he silently wishes he could end his brother's pathetic excuse of an existence.

He limps along the sandy shores. Until his glacial eyes fall an unfamiliar form stumble from the ocean's grasp. He raises his thick head high onto his neck as he pauses in the sand. She is blue in hue, a stark contrast from tawny sand at their hooves. He ignores the splitting pain, he pulls his head higher on his neck and attempts to hide the limp as he strolls forward.

As he nears her, his mouth falls agape. She is similar to him, in build and stature. Is she from the Norðurland? His glacial eyes fill with curiosity, as he closes the distance between them. Is this why the Norns beckon him here? To welcome his kin to the Isles? Ears appear from his unkempt ebony mane as he halts near to her, he takes in her disheveled and fatigued appearance with knowing eyes. The trek across the ocean is never an easy one.

"Er í lagi með þig?" his words are thick with his northerner's accent. Her scent is unfamiliar, but the ocean has a way of washing the old and bringing forth the new.

Translation:
Er í lagi með þig?: Are you okay?