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Dóttir'stryk had only just returned from her first viking a few weeks ago, and her adult features were still softened by adolescence despite the rough scabs along her shoulder from a wound. She was a mix of coarse beauty and tender innocence, but she was determined to be the former. Her father was too quiet, too silently abrasive for her to be anything but the female version of himself without feeling ostracized. All the same, it was difficult for her to contain her own socially expressive personality.

And it was because of that that she was wandering just then. Her father was off... doing whatever it was that he did when they weren't out raiding. That left her bored, and she was seeking out some sort of conversation that didn't involve watching her father or his Reavers chewing on old bones.

She knew of Captain Aesir, though she hadn't spoken with him much. It was a bit of a surprise when she ran into him, so her bright eyes widened and her brows raised. Inclining her head to one side, she frowned before venturing, "Captain, someday I will kill you."

Accosted. She'd be amused if she knew that was what he thought of this chance meeting, that she was verbally accosting him. Although she was mildly social, she was not good enough at reading others to recognize just what he thought of this meeting. She did, however, recognized that he was inebriated, and that amused her enough that her lips curled upward in a silent, subtle display of just that. Amusement, because even in the face of possible danger she found such frivolity humorous.

She wasn't nervous. Perhaps she should have been; he was stronger, and larger than she, but she was essentially still riding the crest of the wave of confidence following her entrance into adulthood. She was puffed up, and sure enough of herself and her good breeding to believe she might stand a chance against a large portion of the lions in the pride. Besides, she'd put up a big enough fight that most of them would decide she wasn't worth it soon enough. If he did try to knock her aside or have his way with her, he'd have a damn good fight accomplishing much.

Dótti didn't acknowledge the conclusion of the greeting. It was routine enough that it was like exchanging air. It was what followed that interested her, and she nodded slightly when he spoke her name. Her own brows rose when he added that little detail, but she nodded more deeply and replied, "Yes, on both accounts. I returned not too long ago." She looked him over briefly, taking in his state before returning her golden eyes to his face, "You've returned much more recently, I believe."

Whether he brought along female Reavers or not, she didn't know. As a rule, she had attended her first viking under her father's command. She did not know whether she would venture out beneath other Captains; she hadn't thought that far ahead.

Dótti was unlike her father in that she was more easily swayed and distracted by flowery words and wandering phrases often employed by the more talented storytellers, whereas Rå'styrke concerned himself with the bare minimum: facts, and only facts. On the other hand, Dótti had enjoyed the campfire reminisces of returning warriors for a significant majority of her lifespan.

All the same, Aesir was not telling stories now and she had, unfortunately, inherited very little aptitude for embellishment from her gruff father and absent mother. She had a recollection of this particular captain's entertaining drunken tirades, so rather than embarrass herself with any lackluster attempt at mimicry, she settled with a small shrug, "It was successful, though nothing particular to boast of. I did not attain a Thrall for myself."

Rather than trailing off, her train of words ended abruptly. There was nothing more to be said on it, though she did arched a brow at his blatant lie. Her father said very little to anyone, least of all on the subject of his grown offspring. Her molten gold eyes studied the male in the low light, calculating his intent in the fallacy but decided on merely another noncommittal shrug for response. "No deaths at all? What a pity." Her sarcasm was dry, and fleeting, "Congratulations on your raiding, all the same." Additional conversation seemed prudent, so she added, "Will you be raiding again soon?"

"True." She acquiesced to his observation without truly processing information that had already been given to her by her stoic father. Despite her intention to remain mum on the subject, she did add with a rueful grin, "I might appreciate the conquest all the same." Sometimes it seemed as if that was by how reaving wealth was measured, "They would, I imagine, merely get in the way."

She had no desire to have thralls tagging along like whimpering, dependent puppies. For that matter, she also had no desire to allow a thrall to get cubs on her. Any lion so easily taken captive was unlikely to produce suitable young warriors for the pride, and Dótti would not be strapped with useless lumps of fur. She would not nag a male for his mint, but she was not exactly the wife-ing type for that matter, either. Cubs, perhaps; wife, not likely. Her brows purposefully lowered and she considered her response carefully, "It sounds as if you may need a new second." It was her own passing observation; one she doubted he would take seriously.

Although Dótti may have opted to take note of his flapping tongue, she decided not to. She was not intimately acquainted with the captain to say whether he was talking overmuch or the usual. Instead, she settled for a brief shrug, "Glory can unexpectedly be foisted upon the unwitting. You never know what you'll run into."

Sloppiness seemed it would be at the top of every captain's s**t list. It led to inaccuracy and confusion on the raid, and likely insubordination as well. She let her lips twitch in a slight smile at his agreement, but did not address it further. It was not her place.

She had no aspirations to be Aesir's second. Some day she might set her sights on such a position, and she would attain it once she did, but until then she was content to stretch her claws and learn new tricks from old lions. She knew that she had a position to defend in the pride as it was, and at least as a reaver she had the time to gain experience both in raiding and brawling. From a young age she had learned to use her slighter build to her advantage against males, though against females she had some advantage with her larger size. She was formidable enough to not be completely concerned with her defenses.

"Herdbeasts, of course." She was amused at the idea of eating treasure, but she gave in to logic for the now. After all, he was right, they had to eat sometime. Dotti did not, however, care to pass judgment on their warlord; mostly for her own skin. Nevertheless, her mind followed his line of thought. She was aware of the consistently thinning herd, the inbreeding (or complete lackthereof) and the efficiency that would be regularly installations of new beasts.

Her brow quirked at his indication of departure, golden eyes sparking with sudden mirth as she spoke, "I am sure they look forward to the sunrise."