[there could be one other way klaus wouldn't mind experiencing... but, uh, that's something to possibly be discovered later as well. (like, a great, big maybe.)
he can't help it, though. something about ivar is just. disarming in a way he's unable to put his finger on and without a proper way to describe it, he's left looking like a floundering fool. blessedly, the viking hands his knife over with very little effort. klaus accepts it, murmurs a small thanks while being certain he doesn't shift an awkward way and end up cutting either of them.
with ivar's blade settled across both palms, he gives it a brief once-over then shuts his eyes, the bracelets around his wrists glowing faintly as he pours all his concentration into moving the knife— and eventually, it begins levitating out of his hands.]
no subject
he can't help it, though. something about ivar is just. disarming in a way he's unable to put his finger on and without a proper way to describe it, he's left looking like a floundering fool. blessedly, the viking hands his knife over with very little effort. klaus accepts it, murmurs a small thanks while being certain he doesn't shift an awkward way and end up cutting either of them.
with ivar's blade settled across both palms, he gives it a brief once-over then shuts his eyes, the bracelets around his wrists glowing faintly as he pours all his concentration into moving the knife— and eventually, it begins levitating out of his hands.]