sixthiterationlogs | surely you have heard the story of

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surely you have heard the story of

WHO: Ubbe Ragnarsson
WHERE: Inn by the fireplace!
WHEN: Evening of 2/20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None! (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering)

Almost every evening since arriving, Ubbe goes to the hall most call the "Inn", which is somewhat appropriately named given most go in to gather and prepare food and eat. But the Viking goes for the fireplace and for the warmth it brings. He spends hours there, staring into the flames while it takes him back to many evenings at the Great Hall in Kattegat.

One thing he remembers well is how loud and busy it is when everyone comes together with men and women and children celebrating for many different reasons. Most times, it was the return of their people from successful raids and to feast and drink to the ones who had died glorious deaths in battle and earned their way into Valhalla to drink with Odin and Thor. They gathered to celebrate weddings and births and to honour traditions like Jól and Ostara.

It was a place that brought back a flood of memories for the displaced Viking.

Tonight, Ubbe remembers the stories told around the fire in the middle of the longhouse. The ones overheard by the men and women, their travels and the riches they came home with. The ones Floki would tell with such great enthusiasm and intensity in his eyes. It was the way he laughed while telling them that always seemed to make the tale a little scarier than it should be. But mostly, Ubbe remembers the way his father, Ragnar, told them to him and his brothers when they were young boys. His voice always seemed to bring life to them better than anyone else and that makes him smile.

[ Feel free to catch Ubbe quietly reminiscing or smiling in memory! Then sit down and let him tell you a story :) ]

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The Iron Bull walks over to the inn with a couple of bottles of beer, planning on finding someone to share with. When he sees Ubbe sitting by the fire he smiles. A new, rather handsome face that he hasn't met yet, sure why not? He comes closer, pointing to the other chair. "That seat taken?"

The Qunari looks like something out of those old tales. Taller than a human and broad to match, with grey skin and horns. It doesn't help that he is also shirtless.

"Want a beer?"

He wasn't so deep into his own mind that he didn't hear the sound of someone (rather large) come into the dining hall. Ubbe simply didn't expect to look up and see the person have horns. So, that earned him the right to stare while he nods at both questions. The Viking takes the beer and mutters his thanks.

It's in the following moments that Ubbe says something that would have come out of his father's mouth, because Ragnar didn't care much for manners. He gestures vaguely up at the horns.

"Were you born with those?"

"Nah, they didn't come in until later. It would be rather dangerous for the mother otherwise. But almost all Qunari have horns. None quite like this though."

Well, that's good news. He'd hate to hear what happened with the mother if they had been born with even stumps.

"Ah, nothing like that where I come from, though there are stories about creatures with horns like yours."

"Yeah? You come from Thedas then?" He knows there are places that haven't seen Qunari yet.

"No, I was born in a place called Kattegat, in Norway," Ubbe tells him. "But I settled in a place called East Anglia with my wife, Torvi."

Bull shakes his head. "Never heard of that, which must mean that the people with horns you know must not be Quanri. Where have you heard about them?"

Four months before when she arrived in this place, Ashley rarely came to the inn unless she couldn't avoid it. A history tainted by titles and history and pain that kept her from coming into the inn for more than a meal and then darting back out once more.

Those memories, the pain that came with it, much of it is slowly beginning to fade. The place still left her uncertain, but she wasn't afraid of those that dwelled there. Not anymore.

Slinking in out of the cold, moving to drop herself as close to the fire as she can. Leaning into the heat, feeling it nearly burning against her skin. Eyes closing as she sighs before fluttering her eyes open, looking up and seeing another. Another she hasn't seen before.

"Well, you look more content with this place than most," she points out.

What Ubbe has come to find being there over the last month or so, is that there many people who prefer to keep to themselves when they aren't contributing to the settlement. But, then there has been a number of new ones that have arrived by way of the fountain and they had been settling in, just as he had been doing.

The Viking gives a nod that rolls into an easy shrug. "What sense is there in being angry over things I cannot change? I have what I need here. Don't you?"

Leaning back against the stone skirt of the fireplace, settling in comfortably there. It's an easy place for her to sit, see the door and the room, and soak in the warmth before she heads back out.

Ashley pauses to consider that, head cocking to one side. "Not entirely. Physically? Yeah, I've got enough, but I don't need much," she admits. "Emotionally, not so much." It's the honest truth without letting herself wallow in how bad it is without her mom there. "Already seen some of the stunts this place can pull, so not sure I'd call myself content either, but I'm not angry. Not over being here."

The jury's still out on those reasons that include her father. That's another story.

While he listens, Ubbe can't really say he sympathizes. He's a man first, Viking second, but even still, emotions for him tend to be pretty basic and there isn't much that he left behind in Wessex that he can say he misses besides proper drink. And both he and Thor were fixing that.

"Not much one can do about that," Ubbe mentions idly with a small shrug. That was the obvious part. "And so we wait now to find out what these "Observers want from us."

That might be the most infuriating part in all this and he's sure everyone would agree.

"If they want anything at all," she points out, settling in comfortably, head canting to one side as she looks up at him. "I mean, wouldn't be the first time the entire experiment is just to see what we do, not that we do something in particular. Even with the kidnapping and weird future videos and all," she adds, still not sure what to make of the ability to do it, though she has her own theories.

Shrugging even as she says it. 'For some I think it starts to become a thought of if we care, so long as others aren't harmed, or that they get back where they belong."

It's a thought that makes no sense to him, really. Why bring them here for no reason. Even in talking to Leonardo during the first few days of being there presented an idea that they were cloned could make sense - if someone of his era could wrap their head around it. An absurd challenge for sure.

Ubbe gives a considerate nod as he looks from the fire to her.

"Do you care?" he asks, suspecting she does given her earlier answer.

"I care about taking care of those that need it," she says, meaning it despite knowing that there's many that don't need it, and a lot of others that would never admit if they did need anything. "I care that, if there is a life to get back to? We can get those that need to be back to their lives," she says, shrugging because there's so many what ifs.

"Whether we're who we were or not though," she says, edging around those things many talk about, if only for the sake of others but she knows what she believes. She has reasons, knowledge of her life, and there's no reason to believe otherwise. Not for herself. "And if there's not a way? I care... You know, I care about the people of this village. We're all abnormals here, in one way or another, and I think we need one another to get through this."

She was raised to be there for others, to help the underdog through so long as they weren't out to harm others for no reason. Ashley can't see any reason to do anything else here for as long as she can.

"Good memory?" North asks as he comes to sit down by the fire. Not in a chair or anything. Just wants to sit there, leaning against stone around the thing, basking in the warmth that has settled into the stones. Let him enjoy the heat, but the warmth of that smile is good too.

"Care to share with the class?"

"A memory of my father," Ubbe looks up, his blue eyes moving back to the fire. "When he was home from raids, he would spend the evenings telling me and my brother's stories about the things that he had seen or experienced."

Ragnar always had them on the edge of their seats.

"Or sometimes he would tell stories of the Gods to put us to sleep. It did not work well."

Raids? Interesting word choice. Of course he doesn't know he has enough context to make a judgement based upon it. So instead he relaxes further back against the wall, closing his eyes as he lets the warmth work over his body. Sure, he can handle the cold out there very well, rarely even bothered to use his coat, but that didn't mean warmth wasn't amazing.

"The gods? Perhaps you'd be willing to share one? I like learning about other people's beliefs."

"Yes, the Gods," Ubbe repeats, putting a hand over where his Viking arm ring would have been. Instead, there is a dark green device that he knows nothing about, nor wishes to.

Ubbe looks over at North, considering him a moment. "You have hair like Thor, I shall tell you one about him.

A good one, because the God of Thunder is there among them.

Thor. That gets North to chuckle. The gods of his ancestors real and one of them here. What a thought.

"I don't know, wouldn't he like to tell those stories himself? But if they're the easiest ones for you, then yeah, that would work. I was always more of a fan of Heimdall, but that comes from being a sniper. I made my life by having sharp eyesight."

It's been a rough month, between everything that happened on the mountain, and coming back to deal with the color changes and all that that entailed. Anne's ready for a some quiet nights with no drama, but she's also starting to get lonely in her house. There were cinemas in San Francisco that held more people than currently resided in the Village, and while most times Anne had appreciated being able to close herself off in her Townhouse for a quiet evening devoid of people besides those she wanted to deal with, here ... it's been a different story.

So, tonight after dinner she intends on setting up next to the fire for some spinning of collected and washed wool; a blend of the bright purple zalpaca with her own cat's smokey grey and white. She's not surprised to find someone else having taken residence next to the cracking logs, seemingly lost in thought, and she gives a little wave to try and catch Ubbe's attention before she just invites herself into his space.

"Mind if I join you?"

Ubbe has become quickly accustomed to meeting new faces, though, it's not unlike the settlement in Wessex where the Christians seemed slightly wary of him and the other Northmen. But, he's been wary of others here for obvious reasons.

It's not every day someone world hops and time jumps.

When Anne's presence catches his attention, the Viking looks at her and gives a nod. He's not sure if 'join' means sit with or talk. Maybe it's both.

Thor can't always make it into the Inn before he decides to tuck in for the night. Most often, it's because exhaustion has so overcome him from his time at the Forge that he can barely make it to his bed before collapsing. On this particular night, however, Thor's decided to retire a little bit earlier than he normally would in order to purposefully carve out time to check his traps and drop off whatever's been caught.

His intention is to spend little time there, but as he spins to exit, he notices a familiar face near the fire. The man's caught in his own world, his own memories, and Thor can't help but watch with amusement for a few private seconds. After some internal debate, he wanders over to where his Viking friend is sitting and, approaching the empty chair beside him, places his hands on the back of it.

"Ubbe, hello!" Thor exclaims happily, voice booming and rattling the eaves. "I am happy to see you. You look as though you've been adjusting to the village since last we spoke. Are you well?"

Ubbe hasn't seen much of Thor in the days since they spoke last about the process of making mead and the Viking is a touch disappointed at himself for not at least checking in with the God of Thunder. Only it doesn't show on his face when he flinches somewhat at the volume when Thor walks in and greets him.

The Viking gets to his feet with a smile and grabs the other man's forearm in a traditional handshake. "I am well, Thor. And yes, settling in as much as I can. It's not home, after all."

Yet, Ubbe was one to believe that home was wherever you wished to make it. Perhaps in time, he would. Unless he gets sent back to his time and his world.

"And you? How is the mead coming?"

It is a welcome throwback to be greeted in such way, their hands gripping each other's forearms. There are few here who maintain this tradition, and Thor is grateful for its familiarity. He nods with understanding, sparing a glance for the roaring fire.

"Ah, the mead," Thor begins, turning to his friend again. "It is coming along, all thanks to your help. I could remember bits and pieces of how it was made, but I doubt it would be as successful as it's been thus far had it not been for your assistance." Thor grins from ear to ear. It's still too early to tell exactly how good the end product will be, but it wouldn't have been much more than a dream without Ubbe's help. "I will, of course, be thanking you by offering you first taste, once it's had enough time. I also think I would very much like to throw a proper feast once it's done. Something akin to what we experienced on Asgard — and what you are used to after a successful hunt. Something in between those, given our resources." He eyes momentarily widen, as though he's just remembered something. He gestures to Ubbe and the fire, one after the other. "Oh! But I've interrupted you. It seemed as though you were remembering something fondly."

All of Ubbe's reasons for gravitating to this pseudo-great hall, really, are the same ones that lead to Brigitte living in the inn itself, and settling cheerfully into its main room most nights. Even if she isn't eating with someone, that hum of background conversation still soothes her, helps her unwind after a long day of working at the forge, letting herself drift into the noise of a chattering community and company. (All the more reasons why the inn was so eerie and unsettling and upsetting when the village was mysteriously cleaned out, most of its inhabitants transported away.)

Spotting Ubbe by the fire, she wanders over and settles down on a chair beside him, carrying a bowl of food and her tea. Not the mead yet, unfortunately, since that's still a few months off. But someday.

"There's not a salamander in there or anything, is there?" she asks, nodding towards the fire. The gentlest of teases, considering how rapt he was by the flames.

Ubbe can't break his stare from the fire but he was still aware of what was going on, who was coming and those who were leaving or retiring to their rooms upstairs. That sort of thing was quite new to him, too, but so were a lot of other things around the village. The Viking had been busy learning a great deal since his arrival over a month before.

At Brigitte's entrance, he smiles and only looks at her after she situates herself on the chair beside him.

"I was thinking of my brothers and the stories my father told us as boys," he tells her. It was better to think of those days than what had become of Sigurd, Ivar and Hvitserk.

It takes a certain kind of personality to be so still and quiet, so content to wait and think. She likes to think it would be soothing: staring into the fire, being transported far away. "You should tell me about them," Brigitte says as she tucks her legs under herself and rests the cup against her knee; and for a moment, it's unclear which part she's referring to.

"--Your brothers or the stories," she clarifies then, considering. Whichever part he's comfortable sharing.

"Either you are happy to see me, or it's the fire that makes you happy." Sofia was only passing by when she noticed the young man seated by the fireplace smiling to himself, perhaps lost in a memory.

This would be the first time she's met him but the moment felt right in adding a playful greeting.

"Buonasera. May I sit?" She gestures to the other chair. "Unless of course you prefer to remain alone."

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