Meadow

He hates being trapped within the Peak, the damn women there are needy and annoying. Always demanding equality but then turn to the nearest man to satisfy their own needs. Pathetic. Ivar's dark gaze flicks over the wanderers, they flit and flirt around, desperately trying to woe some unknowing woman back to their home. They are pathetic, Fenrir growls. "We are in agreement," Ivar whispers darkly to the voice of the wolf. His voice is gravely and deep from the lack of everyday use, perhaps because there is no one worth speaking to. Except, Fenrir of course.

A movement catches his dark gaze, a lone mare. Her coat, inky black like his own, except for the splash of white along her belly. I am hungry, Fenrir says with a menacing growl. A wicked sneer pulls at Ivar's lips, and his dark eyes narrow in on his next victim. He slinks through the shadows until he stands just at the edge of the clearing. Damn. How he revels in the endless dark of the night. He steps into the direct light, slinking across the meadow until he is near to the woman.

"Þú lítur út með leiðindi.." he smirks as the words leave his dark lips. His nordic accent thick on his tongue. "Wanna play?" he purrs at the lone woman. At-least he could have some fun before returning to the Peak, there was no rule against that.

Translation:
Þú lítur út með leiðindi: you look bored.

Ivar Speech
the voice of Fenrir