[ The cold is sharp, yes, but Sigyn has been in presence of Jotunns for quite some time that she doesn't mind. Their cold kisses upon the cheeks, cold hands in her warm hands, and the soft feel of frost tickling skin when she'd been seated in their laps (of course she refers to her Auntie Gerd, her Uncle Freyr's dear wife who would chase a young Sigyn through her and Freyr's house when Sigyn stayed for visits.) She even reaches out and grasps the staff. ]
This is no stick, Sir Frost. It is much too lovingly crafted to be what ...you just said it was. [ She leans forward and presses her forehead to the wood. ] Ah. It makes me miss my Auntie.
Action.
This is no stick, Sir Frost. It is much too lovingly crafted to be what ...you just said it was. [ She leans forward and presses her forehead to the wood. ] Ah. It makes me miss my Auntie.