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)
sixthiterationlogs2016-07-27 06:45 pm
seekingvinland) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-07-27 06:45 pm
Entry tags:
OTA
WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: House 44 and The Town (The woods if you want).
WHEN: July 27th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None yet, will update as needed.
STATUS: Closed
1: Early Morning House 44
He was laying across the roof watching the sky. The stars and the moon above, the moon was in its last quarter. He assumed that the harvest would begin soon. The way the heat and the moon were enough for Thorfinn to guess that much. He could be wrong, he likely was. Tonight it was his bad dreams had ripped him from a heavy slumber. He shot up in a panic and heavy breathing. Thankful that he was not shaken awake. It made him all the more aware just how alone he was. Einar used to pull him out of those dreams be it from a loud shout of his name or a swift kick on the worse nights, the man had always made it known. You're not alone, brother. And yet, as he laid there on the roof watching the sky, silently asking his gods for guidance, he knew like he knew as a boy. He was alone.
Jo was helping him so much… helping him to learn the language of the people here. It wasn't easy, it wasn't easy at all. A smarter man might have caught on quicker but, he was doing the best he could to understand. Until he climbed that mountain that was the issue of language he would be mostly alone. Well, there was Kol, but he hated the idea of being a burden on anyone. Jo was one thing, she was basically his sworn family. He would do anything for her…
He looked over towards her window. No, he wouldn't bother her.
He knew from the chirping of the birds that the sun was getting ready to rise. He pushed himself to sit up, moving back into the window as he pulled up the bag from beside the bed taking out the knife he moved pulling open his door. He rarely went back to sleep after his nightmares so instead he to stand outside of the door. The tiredness was in his eyes as he started to carve on the door frame with the knife he usually used when hunting. He should have asked first, but Jo had made it pretty clear the room was his, so, he would do as he pleased with a space that was deemed his.
Eventually he made his way outside, he wouldn't be going to the woods until much later, so he went out to the porch sitting down on the steps and started whittling at a piece of wood he had drug home the day before. He figured he could kill some time until he went with Jo to the inn.
2: In town
Much later in the day, after he had eventually left the pub he went back to the woods. He felt a little more at ease in the woods. Even if he was alone there, it didn't matter. The creatures couldn't understand him anyway so it was nothing new. The smell of the trees and the sound of nature they were soothing. Like a balm for the soul. He had of course spent to much time in the pub and he knew that he didn't have a lot of time. So instead of hunting he gathered up some more sticks for the strange fire room. Making his way back to town a bundle of twigs under his right arm as he moved through the fountain park making his way back through town.
He was trying to not think about the people who could be out and about. He needed to be more social he needed to talk to people, but he was still learning even when it was more frustrating than he cared to admit. As he walked he kept his head down, ever now and then if he though he heard someone he would look up. He would nod in greeting attempting to look friendly. He didn't feel like he was very good company at the moment but he still wanted to be nice to everyone.
I have no enemies at all.
He was better, he would be better here. No matter how hard the fight was he would keep fighting to learn until he could speak to everyone on equal understanding.
WHERE: House 44 and The Town (The woods if you want).
WHEN: July 27th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None yet, will update as needed.
STATUS: Closed
1: Early Morning House 44
He was laying across the roof watching the sky. The stars and the moon above, the moon was in its last quarter. He assumed that the harvest would begin soon. The way the heat and the moon were enough for Thorfinn to guess that much. He could be wrong, he likely was. Tonight it was his bad dreams had ripped him from a heavy slumber. He shot up in a panic and heavy breathing. Thankful that he was not shaken awake. It made him all the more aware just how alone he was. Einar used to pull him out of those dreams be it from a loud shout of his name or a swift kick on the worse nights, the man had always made it known. You're not alone, brother. And yet, as he laid there on the roof watching the sky, silently asking his gods for guidance, he knew like he knew as a boy. He was alone.
Jo was helping him so much… helping him to learn the language of the people here. It wasn't easy, it wasn't easy at all. A smarter man might have caught on quicker but, he was doing the best he could to understand. Until he climbed that mountain that was the issue of language he would be mostly alone. Well, there was Kol, but he hated the idea of being a burden on anyone. Jo was one thing, she was basically his sworn family. He would do anything for her…
He looked over towards her window. No, he wouldn't bother her.
He knew from the chirping of the birds that the sun was getting ready to rise. He pushed himself to sit up, moving back into the window as he pulled up the bag from beside the bed taking out the knife he moved pulling open his door. He rarely went back to sleep after his nightmares so instead he to stand outside of the door. The tiredness was in his eyes as he started to carve on the door frame with the knife he usually used when hunting. He should have asked first, but Jo had made it pretty clear the room was his, so, he would do as he pleased with a space that was deemed his.
Eventually he made his way outside, he wouldn't be going to the woods until much later, so he went out to the porch sitting down on the steps and started whittling at a piece of wood he had drug home the day before. He figured he could kill some time until he went with Jo to the inn.
2: In town
Much later in the day, after he had eventually left the pub he went back to the woods. He felt a little more at ease in the woods. Even if he was alone there, it didn't matter. The creatures couldn't understand him anyway so it was nothing new. The smell of the trees and the sound of nature they were soothing. Like a balm for the soul. He had of course spent to much time in the pub and he knew that he didn't have a lot of time. So instead of hunting he gathered up some more sticks for the strange fire room. Making his way back to town a bundle of twigs under his right arm as he moved through the fountain park making his way back through town.
He was trying to not think about the people who could be out and about. He needed to be more social he needed to talk to people, but he was still learning even when it was more frustrating than he cared to admit. As he walked he kept his head down, ever now and then if he though he heard someone he would look up. He would nod in greeting attempting to look friendly. He didn't feel like he was very good company at the moment but he still wanted to be nice to everyone.
I have no enemies at all.
He was better, he would be better here. No matter how hard the fight was he would keep fighting to learn until he could speak to everyone on equal understanding.
1: Early Morning House 44
She wakes up to an unfamiliar sound, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and thinking it'll pass with snapping awake. It's a habit she's never gotten out of. Not really. She thought for a while, after Rachel and Dean. But it came back with Medietas, and with having five or six other people in her space. Leaving her blinking, blearily, toward her door, because it doesn't stop. That noise. Something light, but constant. Light, but constant.
Fingers catch in her mattress and she's pushing up, sheets and blankets slithering off of her, maybe grateful it's not screaming, but curious and wary as she gets to and opens the bedroom door. Her hair is a mess and she's sleeping in her scrubs top, again, giving it a use since she still refuses to wear it during the day. But it comes down to mid-thigh, decent enough for her cares about sleep, and she's still blinking against the morning when she finds herself looking at Thorfinn's back and Thorfinn carving something in the door.
Well -- okay.
Jo stifled a yawn, that turned into ruffling her own hair back, saying, "Not awake yet. Bathroom. Right back."
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When Jo spoke, he looked back over his shoulder. He was wearing the tank top and his gray scrub pants. He didn't mind the shirt it wasn't bad, but he found this one felt better against his skin. Even if it did show his scars off more and got dirty faster. Seeing Jo moving back he blinked a bit wide. Quickly looking back to the door.
Nope, he certainly wasn't supposed to be looking at her in that state. "Right back." he repeated, along with "Sorry!" Sorry he knew before, sorry he was for waking her. He went back to carving, that seemed best.
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There's not a thought to it for Jo. She needs water. Actually, she needs coffee, but that's not going to happen and she's long past those first few days, maybe a week all told, of caffeine withdrawal for getting back used to having it on hand all the time in Medietas. She's grateful enough they have clean water to drink.
Even if it does get boring. Even if she would give anything for a sip of coffee, juice, any kind of alcohol.
Jo does her business, washes her hands, splashes water on her face, staring for a long moment in the mirror. Same face she's had worlds over in the mirror, getting older, and no close to home, to free, to understanding why. It doesn't feel like she slept, but it's more than she was getting at the beginning. Something about Thorfinn being here, even silent, even constantly in the state of needing words, words, words. Pointed out. Explained. It soothes as much as it exacts. It's getting easier, but it's still uphill.
She cards her fingers through her hair and comes back, padding on bare feet and tilting her head when she stops a few feet off. Asking the question she's asked a million times by now, making him name and repeat things she's holding or pointing to. It's wearing into her tongue even when she can guess, even if she wonders whether they have any way to cover it quite yet, or will for a while. "What is it?"
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He was trying hard to not be an irritation, he felt like he was one though. The same as he had felt when Einar had to keep explaining how the wheat growing worked. Jo seemed to be like Einar in that way, patient and understanding that he wasn't the sharpest tool. He tried but it was hard. He was too stubborn to back down.
He hadn't bothered trying to shave since arriving so along with his beard the rest of his chin was covered in thicker stubble. His hair was a wreak but he would eventually run his fingers through it to try and comb it free as best he could. He looked back again when she comes back. When she asks the question.
He understands it, if more in tone, and from it being repeated when he was doing things. He stepped back from the door, the knife in one hand, the other going up rubbing behind his left ear.
"Ægishjálmur"
No, he was supposed to use English... but he didn't know the word. "Help." he spoke before shaking his head. No, no that wasn't right. He shifted to stand with his back to her and holding the knife out. A protective stance. "Safe." He spoke, he had picked that word up pretty easy. Even if his words were wrong maybe she would get what he meant. A protection.
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Her mind runs her through words that won't truly help yet. Symbols. Sigils. Wards. Having the same idea and two different things to call it, without having any of the pieces to connect the dots. She knew she was lucky that she had a background in these things. It wasn't like Medietas, or this place, had books that were left around to help her with it. Especially not here, when everything was different just for relating.
"Protection?" She asks based on the change in his posture and position, that even though she's weaponless and half dressed from sleep does nothing to make her feel threatened. Her world was made of weapons. But when he turned around, she was nodding, even though she waited for him to be able to see her face. Because that was easier sometimes. "Defense, too?"
Something active and warding. Like she thought. She wished she had the tomes to decipher it exactly already.
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"Protection, yes." He made a face at defence but nodded even though he wasn't sure if it was the same thing. He moved crossing his arms looking at of the start of the symbol. So far he only had the center lines. He would have more carving to go but it was a good way to fill his time before he eventually heads to the woods each day.
Protect himself, protect her and protect everyone he could. To do good to atone for all the bad of his youth. This place wasn't Vinland, but it would have to do. It was a good place in his eyes.
"Good sleep?" He inquired mentioning to her. His manners had vastly improved on the Ketil farm, he had a general concern for others now. And as a friend, and pretty much family. He genuinely cared about her.
As hard as it could be to speak just English. It seemed the smartest way to retain it. To simply dive in and commit it to memory.
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Jo has to wonder, when he looks back at her again, if he slept at all last night. If he managed to wake up with the nightmares or if he never had to deal with that tonight, because he never fell asleep in the first place. They both seemed to go rounds with the different faces of their personal demons and those of this strange, dusty, haunted little place.
"Good enough." She hadn't woken screaming either. If that event was much rarer.
She hadn't had any bad dreams that she could, currently, remember.
She was headed back to her door, and her clothes, as she asked over her shoulder. "Have you eaten yet?"
Beat. Remembering, even, sleepily to throw back in words, she made sure to use over and over. "Breakfast?"
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"Good." He nodded repeating the word smiling for her, in that way he does so often now. The look his younger counter part rarely if ever wore for any.
He shook his head. "Nei" He spoke and quickly corrected. "No." He was getting good with yes and no's when he understands what is asked. Some words were strange in English to him Morgunverður he understood now was breakfast it still felt strange to him. "No breakfast." He repeated the word for her sake and went back to carving while she went back to her door.
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First thing. Every morning. Slides easy and used to it into her hand, and she walks to her closet.
The few clothes she has are all the way to one side and the back of the closet is what she steps up to.
Adding another dug in slash to a line of them that is now twenty-seven slashes long. Almost a month now.
Then, she walks back out, dropping the knife in her bag and finding her clothes shucked the night before. They don't smell great and they need to be rinsed in the tub or the river again, but it's not like a second pair of clothes is laying around for that either. At least not that isn't winter gear that's way too warm for this part of what she thinks is likely still summer. If this place has seasons anything like Earth, or any of the places she's been.
(Except the Hell Dimension, where there really were none.)
She comes back out -- scrub pants and semi-dingy white tank top, carding her fingers through her hair over her shoulder. It's getting longer again. The last time she cut it was before her time in Medietas, which means it was more than four months now. Not hitting her elbows yet. No life-or-death fights that require machete cuts with a machete that isn't here. But the though slides around her mind as she's walking back out.
"I'll go see what we've got left." It's not really an invitation to stop what he's doing. She's barefoot, and fuzzy. There won't be any coffee, but she's gotten used to that again. Just enough to be wistful about getting used to it on the island, in the Roadhouse, but it's almost easier to do without than with at this point.
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He didn't look towards her door. Even if he found it easier to listen to people and read their body language by talking to them face to face, he knew this was important to. He couldn't always just read a persons movement.
Thorfinn's clothes didn't smell to great either, but that was nothing new with him. At least he was bathing more than he did when he first arrived in Medietas. Though he had stopped such habits outside of saturday bathing when he returned home, here he remembered the people in the other land berating him about his hygiene. Granted, he didn't trust the tub, and did most of his bathing late night in the river. Not the safest thing, but he wasn't fearful, he didn't really know fear.
Once she walks by he does in fact stop what hes doing. the door pushed open and the knife tossed in on his bed as he moved to follow her down the steps. He had been catching small animals, and hopeful for fish, but he still needed a net for that. He moved into the kitchen after her moving the pelt he had been working on de-furing when they both decided it was bedtime the night before. It would be made into raw hide soon enough, but for now he rolled it and moved to clear the table of any mess left quietly. "I go hunt later." He promised, he didn't want to leave them hungry. "Tired." He offered to explain why he had not left yet. He was having an off day.
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Glasses have water poured in them. Plates are pulled out, and piled with some of each kind of jerked meat. Beside that that, the last of the fried up thick meaty morel mushrooms (cooked now, after the sickening disaster of trying them raw first), on a bed of collard and dandelions greens. Next over, a small helping of three different kinds of berries. It's not amazing, but it's better than some people are managing with having to go begging or hungry until helped.
But Thorfinn handles one part of it and she finds what she can in the forests as well.
In the end, it does them well enough. They never go hungry, or complain much about it.
"Bad dreams?" She asks, without looking over.
It's not pointed, and she probably won't ask again if he ignores it. Probably.
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Thorfinn bowed his head, in that strange way he seems to always do instead of saying thank you. Something he didn't do in his youth, he would speak his words with the magic box translating for them both. Here gestures meant more with him than some of his words. He had been half starved before the Elder master started pulling him and Einar into his house for dinner in exchange for work. The boy bulked up fast into a stockier man after he started eating right, but even that wasn't to different from this. One elderly Norsemen would never be the best cook, but Jo could cook, and food was the way to his heart. He was endlessly loyal, she was feeding him.
"Ja." He spoke the word catching himself as he had been doing so much lately. "Yes, bad dreams. Always." That boy in Medietas spent many nights screaming himself raw until he would eventually wake, things he didn't share with anyone. He spoke as he sat back after taking up a spoon and a different knife. One thing about him, he never used forks. Even at the Roadhouse in Medietas, never once. He got the basic idea of a fork, but his time didn't use them. Your knife and a spoon were all you needed. "Bad dreams, too?"
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Jo turned, putting the plates on the table, a shrug even as she said, "Normal."
It didn't really clarify, even if it still gave more than she liked. There were things that would never leave her and like to plague her subconcious because it was the only playground she could not will them away from until she was awake and in charge of her own head again. Bad was such a subjective term all this longer.
There's a speculative consideration, before Jo does ask, "How bad?"
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"Much bad." he spoke as he lifted the spoon and knife to get ready to eat. Shifted his eyes to her a moment. He didn't know how to express it to her, how bad his dreams were how terrible his mind could be, so he offered a sad smile and then just went to start eatting.
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She wants to ask for more. More details, more understanding, but that doesn't always come. Which isn't to say he was always willing to talk when he was young and there wasn't the language barrier, but she hadn't forgotten those stories. It might have been a handful of years for him, but it was only the better part of weeks and months for her.
The child he was constantly ghost presence at war with this older face in her mind.
It wasn't entirely fair to ask either for details he hadn't offered, that she didn't offer, herself, but she wanted to know, and she wasn't entirely used to so much silence in her space. Not after adjusting to Merlin, Sam, Bobby, Amy and Jacob all under foot, not to mention an entire bar of people on the first floor during everything but the early morning hours.
This place was a tomb of silence from house to village to land in comparison. So small and so few and so much silence, abject tension and tightness everywhere. For the moment, Jo settled for pulling apart her jerky and eating it in the space between them.
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Still as he ate he stayed quiet, as he did so. Though every now and then he looked up. He had grown so used to Einar's chattering that the silence even sometimes bothers him. Still his english was only just budding and he wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't frustrate them both. He sat back once he had finished eating, the knife still in his hand.
"I hunt, return after." He tried to let her know his plans at least, usually he would come back mid day he didn't plan on it today, he wanted to go further out explore more.
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Silence happens a lot. It's only in the comparisons that it weighs, only in the confusing barriers. It's easier when she doesn't look back. Closes those doors, except right before sleep. It a blip. Maybe Merlin was right. Maybe all she was needed for was to build that building and hand it, and the idea behind it, the necessity for it, the people who needed it, off to the person who wasn't her.
She didn't like thinking about that either. Why, and why not. Having gotten attached to that place or those people at all.
As Thorfinn spoke, Jo nodded and pushed her chair back. It made a dragging noise on the floor, but she was up very few seconds into it, picking up and stacking her plate and his in her hands. It wasn't much to clean and she wasn't in any specific rush. She nodded, and related the same. "I'll be at the Inn, unless someone wants to go out."
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"Tonight, Verið varkár, mun ég sjá þig í kvöld." He spoke as he turned and moved to go collect his knife and bag to head out. He'd leave out the backdoor. He usually does, only to return through the front.