What is a surprise, though, is the giant, fuck-off bird sticking its head through the window. Easily four, five feet in height, it casually casts its angry-visage about the space as a strange sense of silent tension falls across your home.
Abjorn starts slowly reaching for his sword as you desperately wish you had learned Recall when you had the chance — as Sagaseeker is hanging on the wall on the far side of the room. Your hand falls to Ashen Kiss hanging from your belt — it'll have to do for now.
Sigurdr starts to laugh and clap, successfully diffusing the tension. Your eyes fall to the white bird's feathers and your brows rise to the top of your head as you recognize that singe. That's... that's the same kind of pattern as on your virthing!
The fylgja bobs its head once before drawing away from the room, its presence vanishing moments later.
You blink, as does Abjorn. Asgeirr and Eyvor, though, didn't stop fighting for even a moment as the too-big bird made its appearance.
"That..." you trail off as Sigurdr promptly goes to sleep, right then and there, "was a fylgja."
"Hostile?" Abjorn makes his way to the door, ready to hold it shut with his body if needs be.
"Sigurdr's, I think."
That sets Abjorn's brows to rising. "Huh."
Huh indeed.