Thorfinn Thorsson }{ Karlsefni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seekingvinland) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-09-14 02:51 pm
seekingvinland) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-09-14 02:51 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Woods, The Blacksmith, The Boathouse, and House 8.
WHEN:September 14th
OPEN TO:OTA
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open
A: The woods
It was a day, he wasn't really sure which day it was since Fenrir's shakes he had lost track of his days to busy with his tasks. Making more soap, carving bone and a second bit of wood for Kate since he didn't like his the one she asked for turned out despite having given it to her. But when he wasn't working around the house he was out and about. As always his favorite place to be was the woods.
Some days he fell trees when he had an axe, other days he hunted. Days like today he just foraged. Part of it was for survivals sake. The rest was just a pure need to reconnect with nature. He spent so long in the woods trying to buy his freedom back that he felt more right in the woods. He no longer kept his injuries from the day of the quakes covered they were all scabbed over enough for him to no longer care. New scars would come and cover his skin. Things he didn’t give much though to, being blissfully ignorant to things like germs. Such things were not known in his time, and he's never thought about it since arriving in this new land, he lived by what he knew.
Which was part of why he was out, he was looking for herbs. His stomach had been bothering him for a couple days now. He couldn't pin why, but he figured he could find an herb to help ease the pain.
B: Blacksmith
Thorfinn had noticed the building but before today he hadn't ventured to close to it. Just idly looking and passing by. He wasn't sure why today the desire to get closer hit, but it did. He could recall being young and innocent running across the village he was born in 'Father! Father!' he would always call out. Happy to sit and watch Thors try to repair and make things. His father was such a bad blacksmith, but a good man. In Medietas, Thorfinn himself tried to become a blacksmith but a month of learning didn't do a lot for him here.
Stepping up he kept a hand on his pack, the other ran over the door before pushing it open. Disappearing inside the building. It was all different from the smithy in his village. Like everything in this village it was still rather futuristic but, he had the basic idea. He couldn't explain why, but he had the desire to be in the building. Sitting on the floor with his pack beside him he looked around the empty dark building.
C: Porch of House 8
When he finally made his way home he didn’t go right inside he tossed his pack on the porch taking a seat on the steps and pulled up the bit of bone he had been carving the night before. Sitting back against a post he pulled one leg close to his body to prop his arm on, the other stretched out to try and touch the other post, it didn’t work his legs weren't long enough. Yet he remained sitting the same as he shaved away at the bone in his hand. It was comb but this one made of wood, a piece he had been whittling down for awhile. Experimenting with new ways to make things.
He knew he could have gone inside, but he was feeling a bit out of sorts. Sitting on the porch in the cooling air seemed like the thing to do.
WHERE: The Woods, The Blacksmith, The Boathouse, and House 8.
WHEN:September 14th
OPEN TO:OTA
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open
A: The woods
It was a day, he wasn't really sure which day it was since Fenrir's shakes he had lost track of his days to busy with his tasks. Making more soap, carving bone and a second bit of wood for Kate since he didn't like his the one she asked for turned out despite having given it to her. But when he wasn't working around the house he was out and about. As always his favorite place to be was the woods.
Some days he fell trees when he had an axe, other days he hunted. Days like today he just foraged. Part of it was for survivals sake. The rest was just a pure need to reconnect with nature. He spent so long in the woods trying to buy his freedom back that he felt more right in the woods. He no longer kept his injuries from the day of the quakes covered they were all scabbed over enough for him to no longer care. New scars would come and cover his skin. Things he didn’t give much though to, being blissfully ignorant to things like germs. Such things were not known in his time, and he's never thought about it since arriving in this new land, he lived by what he knew.
Which was part of why he was out, he was looking for herbs. His stomach had been bothering him for a couple days now. He couldn't pin why, but he figured he could find an herb to help ease the pain.
B: Blacksmith
Thorfinn had noticed the building but before today he hadn't ventured to close to it. Just idly looking and passing by. He wasn't sure why today the desire to get closer hit, but it did. He could recall being young and innocent running across the village he was born in 'Father! Father!' he would always call out. Happy to sit and watch Thors try to repair and make things. His father was such a bad blacksmith, but a good man. In Medietas, Thorfinn himself tried to become a blacksmith but a month of learning didn't do a lot for him here.
Stepping up he kept a hand on his pack, the other ran over the door before pushing it open. Disappearing inside the building. It was all different from the smithy in his village. Like everything in this village it was still rather futuristic but, he had the basic idea. He couldn't explain why, but he had the desire to be in the building. Sitting on the floor with his pack beside him he looked around the empty dark building.
C: Porch of House 8
When he finally made his way home he didn’t go right inside he tossed his pack on the porch taking a seat on the steps and pulled up the bit of bone he had been carving the night before. Sitting back against a post he pulled one leg close to his body to prop his arm on, the other stretched out to try and touch the other post, it didn’t work his legs weren't long enough. Yet he remained sitting the same as he shaved away at the bone in his hand. It was comb but this one made of wood, a piece he had been whittling down for awhile. Experimenting with new ways to make things.
He knew he could have gone inside, but he was feeling a bit out of sorts. Sitting on the porch in the cooling air seemed like the thing to do.