great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
He doesn’t startle, on the outside. Too many long years of self-control give him that much – inside, he jerks to awareness with her words, cursing himself for letting his guard down here of all places! This place, where he can name several women who’d like to catch him unawares, and not necessarily for a friendly chat. Perhaps they’d have a friendly chat afterwords, but he’s relatively sure that Scorch and Lagertha, to name a few, would jump him first and chat afterwords. He doesn’t particularly want to give them the opportunity, and he sternly reminds himself to pay more attention. But on the outside, he simply lifts his head, blinking momentarily at the unfamiliar mare in front of him.
An ear flicks in her direction as he contemplates her words, a frown appearing on his face. Ignoring the borders? No, surely he…did. Mentally, Brennen kicks himself again. These aren’t the behaviors that have kept him relatively unharmed for so many years. More like one of the bumbling children they entertain now in the Tundra. The smile that contradicts the mare’s solemn words registers in his brain a half-second later and Brennen responds by quirking a half-smile of his own, turning around fully to face her. “Ah, well, sorry about that. I was looking for my son, but I got distracted.” He glances back at the bright flowers, and then follow the trail of them back to her. “We don’t get many flowers in the Tundra.” For a moment his half-smile is full, a laugh in his eyes, but he doesn’t hold that expression for long. The wry look of half-amusement, half-serious contemplation is more his normal.
“I’m Brennen.” he introduces himself, noticing as they stand that she’s pretty, in the wild way of many of the Jungle women. Once, it feels like lifetimes ago now, he had loved a woman who was quiet and gentle, but they were not right for one another. Her ideal was not his ideal, though he had at many times wished he fit into the peace of Neraza’s falls. But if the Jungle women are anything, they are never boring. Mad, some of them, on many occasions, totally raving, but never boring. And anyway, she doesn’t look crazy. “I’m not in the habit of wandering the Jungle by myself, really, though perhaps I should reconsider. I never get to meet ladies like you when I do things the proper way.” Nope, usually he just gets serious Lagertha or snarky Scorch if it takes him too long to find Malyk.