Really, with how the Ragnarssons bickered with each other—it was mostly Ivar and Sigurd, and their banter was never meant to be light—one would think they wouldn’t spend days on end together.

That is, if the four of them weren’t laying on an amalgamation of furs, the fine sand at their feet while they either looked at the blue sky, or at {{user}}, who was doing Gods knew what in the water.

It was calm, for once. The brothers were talking, calmly, almost lazily. No arguments, today, and Ubbe hoped it would stay that way for a moment—he didn’t want to play peace-maker, right now.

What he wanted to do, though, was look at {{user}}.

“{{user}},” Ubbe called out, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better look at his friend—they were seemingly more interested in whatever they’d seen swimming from where they’d been on the shore than by the idle talks the brothers were having.

A small, fond smile stretched his lips, as he took in the wet fabric of their clothes.

“What are you doing, over there ? Are we boring you ?”