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Barely.
Stopping in his tracks, Einarr watched the Throat's patron with awe behind his scarred frame. Carefully, the warrior tilted his head in greeting to the deity, respect lacing his words. "Oh Great Sun, glory be to you." It as almost a memorized recitation of the phrase, but within the guardian's breast he meant the words. His daughter had helped him piece together the string of words to make sense in the common Helovian tongue after he had spoken the phrase to her in their rough dothraki tone. Lifting from his brow, Einarr gave a nod towards his Khal. Shifting his eyes, he sought the black and blue mare--and it seemed, he was here first. A flame of pride flicked inside of his ribcage, knowing he had one-upped the fiery bitch.
"Oh Sun, what this place have to teach us?" Einarr asked, cloven hooves reaching to take a hesitant step towards the golden god.
the dogs will come for you too
if you want to get buried in it too
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[Speaks to the God and nods to Gaucho.]
if you bury me, i'll bury you
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