[Desecrated as his home may be by comparison, Carlisle seems relieved to hear about Iceland and Brúardalur, closing his eyes another moment in the hopes of helping him imagine those rolling hills and the pleasant flocks of sheep dotting them. He, too, came from a place where everyone knew everyone and things remained largely unchanged -- until him -- but unlike Reynir, Carlisle would have been happy to stay there his entire life, never wandering far despite his family's long history of adventuring.

Maybe he should have wandered. He'd have been far away from Bear Den when he passed, then. Things would be better—

His eyes squeeze tighter, his frustration with his inability to bury his grief burning hot in the pit of his stomach. He latches onto Reynir's suggestion rather than face his troubles -- the runes are something he wanted to know at the start of this chance encounter, after all.]

Yes, please. And I can share some of the sigils for glyphcrafting with you. [He opens his eyes, collecting his journal and pen once more.] We may be unable to use each other's magic, but I see no harm in experimenting. It is a welcome distraction from the place.

[And other things.]