sixthiterationlogs | Open: It's more than nature It's like my destiny.

Current Location: I come from the water - The Toadies

Entry tags:

Open: It's more than nature It's like my destiny.

WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Fountain & The Inn
WHEN: 3/16
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None
NOTES: a heads up Thorfinn has been updated and wiped clean of his CRAU and chunks of his memories are gone. His English will be much more broken because of this.
STATUS: Open!

The Fountain
Two days before, Thorfinn had left into the woods to hunt, nothing unusual for him, he tended to keep to himself a lot more than he had in the past since Jo vanished. His solidarity became more profound once her belongings had been distributed. What was different was he didn't return that night, or the next. The fire had long gone out in his hold and everything was cold. His cloak was not hanging by the door and his boots were gone. Signs he was not home. No lights at night was also a good sign.

It was mid morning when His eyes snapped open and he felt the freezing waters around him, like a shock to his system he pushed hard for the surface, just as he had done the first time. Memories over memories. Odense. He was supposed to be going to Odense He had left Karli with Einar and the others, promising to be in Odense in four days.... it was nearly a week later and he now here he was bursting through the cold ass water as he gasp grabbing the edge of the fountain yanking himself off and over. When he hit the ground the first thing he noticed was that he was in his scrubs, not the clothes he had been wearing. His cloak no where around him, shivering he pushed himself up.

"Hver fjandinn .... hvernig er ég aftur hingað?"

He moved away from the fountain slower than he might normally move the cold shooting right to his joints and old injuries. He didn't head home, but down the streets shivering, the water in his hair already starting to freeze.

Claire had cut his hair just a few weeks before, after he had been struck by lightning and now wet it looked longer than it seemed just days before.

The Inn

Pushing the door open he made his way inside shivering. It had already been well into spring, damn near summer last he remembered, it was strange with the overlapping memories. Running from a psychotic kid trying to force him to fight, having Vagn's head thrown at him by the same kid... Vagn, another soul gone because of him. His father's friend... Floki had to be behind it...

He shuttered with the cold as his thoughts raced, moving quickly inside to get near the fireplace. Still shivering. He had been lucky last time to come through while it was hot out.

"Cougar...Peggy...Kate...Margaery...Jake...Veeronika." He started muttering the names of those he remembered best. Something was wrong and he knew it, he could feel it deep in his marrow. When he had been home he had remembered nothing of this place, he prayed it would be the same, otherwise his friends and family were in deep trouble.

He was huddled near the fire, cold and dripping, staring into the flames. Something was wrong. Why had he gone back through the fountain?

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Moana had a plan, it was a very stupid plan but it brought her in and out of the inn regularly. She had to set up while being mindful of the strange fireflies that were getting people sick. She was very aware of what happened in the village, she knew everyone's faces; even if she didn't know their names. She couldn't shake who she was: the chiefs daughter and one who followed the pull of their heart.

She worried often but distractions kept her focused on the tasks at hand.

It'd been while setting up for her plan that she'd found Thorfinn's cloak in the woods. She had carried it back with her and spent a few hours looking for him. She was sure that the cloak was his, no one else had something quite like this, but he was no where to be found. The cloak was occupying the spare bed in her room when she stepped into the inn and noticed Thorfinn sitting by the fire. Her expression instantly brightened and she ran to her room to fetch his cloak.

When she returned she'd kicked off her shoes, her winter coat and the long sleeved shirt she often wore beneath. She had her scrub pants on and a white tank top that showed off the scar that twisted over her shoulder and down her shoulder blade. Her feet whispered over the floor as she stepped behind Thorfinn and gently draped the warm furs over his shoulders.

"Thorfinn." She called his name first, letting him know who was there. Moana didn't know that his memories had been lost. "I found this, it's yours. Did you go for a swim?" It didn't sound likely.

Moana moved around him, taking a seat in front of the fire and smiling at the warmth. Nothing beats the warmth of fire. "Are you okay? There have been fireflies getting people sick." She couldn't hide her worry, in fact, Moana was very bad at hiding most of her emotions.

Thorfinn could hear people moving around him, but he was to focused on the cold feeling in his body and the warmth of the fire to look up to see who was around. He knew he would have to go home soon and get a fire going for himself but he hoped to dry first. It had been nearly a decade since he swam the chilly waters of the River Thames or, that river in the Frankish lands. He had not needed to do such things, much less march in his icy clothes after words in years, so it was so much worse than he remembered it being in his youth.

He had started to move his hand to his side remembering he had just been stabbed less than an hour before he woke in the fountain, and yet... no blood. No pain... not the kind from stabbing anyway, his feet felt like there was ice on them which is why they were closer to the fire than his hands. What snapped him out of his thoughts was the feeling of the heavy familiar fur coming down on his shoulders, both shakey hands reached up to pull it closer to him, shivering some.

"It...yes, mine." He spoke trying to remember the words, it suddenly seemed harder, he knew he had been speaking it just fine, but now just certain words he could understand, tipping his head some as she spoke. "...I...no?" he looked confused, his accent heavier. "Ég skil ekki, Moana."

She had the net for him too but fetching the cloak had felt more important given his current frozen state.

Moana watched Thorfinn curiously. She could see the thoughts turning over in his mind but had no idea what those thoughts might be. He looked confused but Moana had assumed it was because he was wet and cold. Slowly, she began to get the feeling that something else had happened.

"Yeah?" Her lips parted and she paused before snapping her jaw shut. "I um... don't know what you said."

She paused before speaking agian. "Sa ou le iloa ua e iloa se isi gagana." Her voice was silky and smooth, flowing from her lips like water. She didn't know his tongue but it was closer to the language of her ancestors. No one else had known it before, she doubted that he would but it was worth a try.

Thorfinn stared into the fire once she started to speak again, only certain words connecting, enough to get the gist... at least until she started speaking the other language, which he feared was english he couldn't understand at all, he turned his face to her, the brown eyes widening as if horrified.

"Ó nei, nei ekki aftur." He spoke, the fear, well something like fear, shook his voice. His brown eyes like windows into his soul, he was so lost and confused. He lifted both hands and hit himself hard in the forehead more than once, as he started repeating. " ríða, ríða, ríða!

What had happened in the woods... why did he come back through the fountain, why couldn't he understand?

"No, No!" Moana rose her palms up before leaning forward to catch his hand. She didn't want him to hurt himself. "I'm sorry. That's the language of my ancestors. please. It's okay. I can't understand you but..." She offered him a confident smile.

"You can tell me what words you know and I'll try and use them." This might end poorly but Moana didn't care. She'd help him if she could.

"ríða." She pronounced the word a bit awkwardly. "Means think or... dummy?" She wasn't going to call him dumb but it was a possibility.

His hands were ice cold, and as always heavily scarred from both his youth on the battle field and years of felling trees. "No understand... much." He spoke, trying his best to pull the words out again, He knew he was doing this just fine before.

....What had happened in the woods? What was it he couldn't recall.

When she repeated that word he spoke far to often he shook his head, some of the icey water dripping off his bangs onto her hands when he did. ...Come on he new he had heard it in english. "Bad words." He motioned to himself. "No good. Þú ert góður, ég er óguðlega. Sama hvernig ég reyni að breyta ... ég get það ekki." He then motioned to her. "Good."

Moana continued to hold his hands back from his forehead. She didn't want to let go, not when she thought he might go back to hitting himself. Her dark eyes widened as he spoke. She didn't understand him but he said that he wasn't good and she was.

She couldn't accept that.

"No." She spoke firmly, stubbornly and without room for argument. She spoke like the leader she was one day supposed to be. "You are good. You're strong and kind. You gave me a cloak when I first arrived, remember?" She smiled then, her features softening as she continued. "You always try your best, even now you keep trying. You believe in your gods and you want to help people survive. You are good Thorfinn."

She won't let him convince himself otherwise. "I can see you."

No, he understood well enough, his stormy brown eyes looking straight into hers. Why did people always argue that? He knew the truth of what he was... many saw it, even that screaming mother on the beach. Yet the people here seemed to think he was more, he didn't have to be able to understand it all to get the gist of what she was saying.

He stayed silent trying to piece it together, until he hung his head, unable to fully grasp it.

Moana held his gaze, her eyes and heart open for him to see. She had nothing to hide from him and she wanted him to see that. No one was perfect, what mattered now what who he tried to be. Not that Moana was particularly an expert on it but she was stubborn enough to stand her ground.

"I think you were brought here for a reason. We all were." She had no idea what that reason would be. "But it's what we do that make us who we are."

She hoped that he understood. Moana falling dropped his hands, pulling him into a tight warm hug. "I have the net for you. If you still want it." She hoped that he'd still teach her how to sail though she wasn't going to press the matter. She'd find a way, even if she didn't have help.

His eyes stayed on her, it was almost like talking to Einar, that constant stubborn inability to just let him give up on himself. In that moment he missed his friend again, like he had the months here before, the man waiting at Odense for him and Hild....

A reason... he had to be here again for a reason, she was right.

He took a deep breath before a more violent shutter shook through him as he pulled the cloak tighter around him.

He knew what she was saying at least a little, enough to peice it together. "...yes, net. No yet. Cold." He was to damn cold to go fishing, becuase of course he thought she meant to go fishing right then.

Moana's smile relaxed as she shook her head. "No you warm up. We'll fish later." She moved next to his side and despite being a bit smaller then him tried to help warm him up. Her side was warm and even through the cloak it should help some.

"We I was very young..." She began in a soft voice, her dark brown eyes watching as the fire flicked and cracked in the hearth. "I used to run off to the water a lot. Being wet or cold never bothered me much. When it was night I'd sometimes be so cold that I couldn't stop shivering." Mostly because she wasn't wearing enough clothes. "It was those nights my mom would hold me and sing to me. I was five or so. She'd call me her little minnow."

Moana laughed at the memory, turning her gaze back towards Thorfinn. "Thinking of things like that warms me up some." That was probably weird but own well, Moana was used to being strange, even for those on her island.

She knew a few people who she's spoken to about her island. It was an odd thing but hearing about it seem to cheer people up. She didn't know how much of it Thorfinn understood but the soften in her voice was unmistakable.

"Finn!" The sudden shock of seeing him dripping and wet sent a bolt of fear through her. Only barely remembering to bring him a blanket, Margaery fell to her knees next to him, staring up in surprise and concern. "What happened?" She hadn't visited him recently, much to her shame, but she hadn't expected to next see him like this.

"Did you fall into the river?" It was the only explanation that she had. It was rare for those that had been here before to disappear, only to return the same way they had first come in. It didn't occur to her that Thorfinn had left to return to his world, only to come back.

He was shivering which in itself was strange, since the strange fire powers had hit him early winter, and his own northerner constitution, he had never seemed bothered by the cold, and usually smart enough to wear multiple layers, more so since he had to cut his hair off after he was struck by lightning a month ago. But as Margaery dropped next to him, having yelled a name, he was used to only her saying he offered a weak smile, that faded fast as his teeth chattered.

"Margaery." He still knew her... but as she spoke he to that look he used to get when his english was still much worse. "I...no, no understand." He lifted a hand up pushing his short hair from his face. The faintest scar under his eye that was not there anytime recently, only close was it noticable. New yet aged like it was old.

"No river..." He looked perplexed trying to remember the word, the word they all used. "were all come.... ríða" He couldn't remember and it made it worse. He knew she had to be warm, he wanted to reach out and pull her against him, but he would make her cold, and it wasn't his place even if she was one of his closest friends.

It dawned on her that he seemed different than before, certainly a bit older. It didn't take very much for her to gather that he had left this place and returned home, only to be pulled back at a different time. Yet he at least remembered her, that was a blessing, even if he lost a bit of his knowledge of the common tongue.

She nodded, returning to how she had spoken with him while he was still learning. "Fountain?" She asked slowly, pronouncing the word carefully. "Did you just arrive?" It would explain how he was so wet and cold. She wrapped the blanket around him, rubbing his shoulders gently to try and dry him, as well as heat his blood once more.

"Sit closer to the fire." There was a chair nearer to the hearth, it would at least dry him more quickly. "You need fresh clothes."

It had only been a few months for him, but the stress of it had aged his face a little. A little more handsome, more grown into his looks, despite being in his early twenties, he still seemed to be growing into himself. He still wasn't sleeping well which, he never really had, but lines forming under his eyes helped to add to the aged look of him. When she said fountian he nodded quickly. "Yes, fountain, I woke in fountain." his words more choppy, less sure as he had been. He had learned fast under Jo's intense learning, but with all memories of her gone a good chunk of that learning was gone. As was Kol's helpful translations.

He was thankful for her slow speech, it helped. "I...think, but I was here." He motioned to himself, and pointed to the woods. He remembered going for wood as clear as it was yesterday... and yet getting stabbed felt like it was just hours ago. Shifting the blanket tighter around him he moved to the closer chair, trying his best not to shiver, but failing.

"Ég held að ég fór heim."

They would have to start again from the beginning it seemed. While she hadn't helped Jo in her instructions, she had at least spoken to Thorfinn regularly, helping him to practice and learn by experience. There were some words he seemed to retain, fountain being one of them. There was something, even if it was further back than when she last saw him. She could at least help a bit more this time.

He was pulled then, only to be immediately brought back. It was strange. Kylo Ren had disappeared for longer, allowing time to pass. Thorfinn had vanished and then shortly after returned. Yet during that time in his world, he had managed to forget everything about this one and didn't retain it upon arrival, no matter how brief the absence was.

When he spoke his language, she shook her head. "I don't understand." She quickly rubbed his arms through the blanket, trying to warm him.

His brown eyes were full of concern, everything around him was so confusing. What had happened? What couldn't he remember? What had been taken from him? The worries of home couldn't even be bothered with at the moment, what was important was figuring out what had happened, what he would do to fix this.

"...Thor, Jake, Jesse...Helen..." He muttered the names of who could speak to him fluantly, or as close as possible, he had no idea Jesse was gone. "Dane...Norse." He spoke the words a little harder than he wished, he had not retained how to speak the words softer. He could speak both Danish and Norse, norse his whole life, and Danish after his father's death... here were small bits of Welsh but nothing very soild. Mostly curses and insults he had heard from Askeladd as a child without him realizing it was Welsh.

He took a breath and moved one of his hands from under the blanket to push his hair back. "Fyrirgefðu." His apology to her, may not be understood but his tone said it enough as did the guilt in his eyes.

He was listing off names, most of whom were still present in this world. It was difficult to discern why he was doing so, unless he was testing his memory in some way? It felt as though they were once more at the beginning of their friendship.

She watched him carefully, but there were no answers on his face, only a frustration she could understand. It had to be difficult to be unable to communicate with others once more. He had memories of this place. Did he remember being able to speak easily with them?

"We will help you learn again." She offered, the words slow so he might understand them.

"Thorfinn?"

The name's practically a shriek, which Veronica recognizes is more than a little out of character for a girl who has prided herself on her ability to roll with the punches. It's been a rough couple of months, and some things require shrieking.

She bolts toward him down the road, feet churning up the softened soil, and throws both arms around his shivering figure when she reaches him.

"We thought... we thought you had disappeared! Where have you been?" she breathlessly asks, and only when she leans back does it occur to her that she's wet because he's wet, that he looks different, that he's come back through fountain the same way Ren had. That he might not remember her or the village at all.

The sound of his name brought his head up quickly, he didn't reach for weapons, he was once again used to being unarmed, but he feared before the voice connected that one of the girls had come back after him. Hild was supposed to be leading them to safety. When Veronica's arms came around him he tried to not let his teeth chatter but he failed at that. Recognizing her right away, he realized just as fast he could barley understand what she was saying.

"Veeronika" He spoke through his chattering teeth, almost havier in his accent than before, like he had been before he got much better at speaking English. "No understand." He muttered, but she was blissfully warm compared to everything else, so when she pulls back he moves his arms off her, but almost regretfully. The cold never really bothered him before this moment, but it had been ages since he had to swim through frigged waters. "...Went home." He remembered those words well enough, he looked troubled as he said them, both arms moving up to wrap around himself.

"það var alltaf þetta helvítis kvef?"

"What?"

The word, the question, is instinctive despite the fact that she understands the implication perfectly; he isn't shivering and fresh from the fountain because he means he went home to the bungalow down the street. He means home-home, whatever Viking fjord he came from in the first place, but she needs him to say it, refuses to let her mind go spinning from that new wrinkle until she has confirmation.

Instinctively, she reaches for his elbow, turns him toward the inn. Her Norse has never been as good as her Spanish, but after a moment, she pieces it together.

"So I guess that means you forgot how we were snowed in a couple of months ago."

He looked to her, trying not to show just how cold he was, but again, utterly failing at it. He was shuttering pretty hard his teeth starting to chatter, even the hand on his elbow leading him towards the inn was so much warmer than everything else. He moved with her leaving a trail of water in the cold.

Looking down at her as she spoke he looked more confused. The words not connecting right, a mix of the loss of a lot of what he learned, and the shock of it all making connecting slower. "...I...no understand." Word's he learned fast when he was first learning English. "Was home," He moved his other hand trying to motion far out, despite the shake in his hands. "Iceland." He had only been there a handful of days, but it was the best way he knew to convey home. He bit his lip hating not understanding how to convey his words again.

"Sorry," Veronica was quick to reply, and then immediately shook her head at her continued linguistic idiocy. "Sorry," she corrected in Norse, one word which she absolutely knew well. "It was not important." This probably wasn't the best time to be joking, anyway.

When they reached the inn, she guided him straight back into the kitchen, where she pointed at a chair near the stove. There was a fire on the hearth in the front room, but it was quieter back here, less likely to have people walking through with questions. If she personally had just come back through the fountain after a trip home, she'd want a few minutes to get her bearings before the onslaught.

She pulls a towel from the cupboard and hands it Thorfinn's way. There's a perpetually-simmering pot of soup on the stove, and she ladles some out into a bowl and sets it near to hand on the butcher block with a spoon.

"What do you remember?"

She'd taken solace at the inn when a swarm of fireflies had caught her off-guard, trapping her between her and the house. She needs to be home to check on Stella, but at the moment, unless she wants to become quite terribly stung herself, she's going to stay put. What she doesn't expect is for the door to suddenly be knocked open and a familiar face to stagger through. At least, she thinks it's a familiar face. He looks somewhat different, though Peggy's too concerned with the state of him.

"Thorfinn!" she says, alarmed, pushing out of her seat to get to his side as quickly as she can. "Thorfinn, it's Peggy," she says, and she thinks he must know her, because he's been saying her name. "Are you all right?"

He was shivering by the fire, kneeled down holding his scarred hands over to the warmth of the fire, bits of his hair had frozen on the way from the fountain from the cold, and he had been lucky enough to not get stung, not yet at least. When he heard her call to him and repeat his name all he could think to say was one word.

"Cold...." It was an answer, even when nothing else was. He looked to her, his brown eyes unsure, and the cold wasn't helping. "Was...away. Home." He tried to explain but his words less sure. "Ég fór heim, það var mikið af vandræðum ... og nú er ég hér." It wouldn't be the first time he's failed to use English with her, but he didn't know how else to say what needed said... it was troubling to say the least.

She frowns, not entirely sure what he's talking about. The words are foreign to her, like they had been when he'd possessed that strange fire ability, and unfortunately, Peggy is no better at interpreting now than she had been, then. "Slow down, please," she says, trying to keep her own words slow and cautious. "You went home?" she asks, clarifying that because that's what she wants to know.

"How?" she demands, wondering where the path out of here lies.

He knew the words, words people had spoke to him when he first started learning the English, his face contorted to something almost horrified, what was it? Why couldn't he recall how it was that had been helping him.. he remembered many helping with his learning of the language but something was missing and he could feel it.

"Home.. yes. Home." he repeated slowly his eyes still wide, his cold body was making it harder for his mind to process.

'Think boy, don't be an idiot' he could hear the old voice in the back of his head speaking. It wasn't good not now, now was not the time. His eyes shifted to Peggy. "No, know." Both versions of the word and both meanings sounded the same out of his accented voice. He reached up slowly with shaky hands holding his head. ""Ég var í skóginum ... þá var ég heima. ... Ég var stunginn, og nú er ég hér." He spoke his words slower, but knowing from the past here... no one really understood him. The first time he spoke to Peggy he had already been deep in learning. But as he spoke it he moved quickly, yanking the side of his shirt up, against his went skin was a very thin scar, one that looked almost to thin compaed to the rest. His eyes wider as he saw it healed, a hand moving to his cheek, just under his eye the opposite side of his face as his very noticeable facial scar...a fainter one almost like the one on his side now. Going all the way to his already cut ear, the same type of scar there, where his ear looked like it had been cut but was whole besides the chunk he had been missing since he arrived. Gorms wounds were gone. They had just happened though. His eyes widened. No blood, no pain.

"..." He said nothing but it was clear the hamster had fallen off its wheel in his mind.

Peggy had a hand upon his back, trying to rub it in small, soothing circles as best as she could. The trouble is that she doesn't know what's happened, but whatever has clearly has done something to impact Thorfinn's ability to speak English, which means that communication becomes harder. She studies him, but doesn't rush him, only listening.

She narrows her eyes and looks at the scars he speaks of, a concerned look on her face at his lack of reaction in words, not sure what's going on. "We should get you to someone who understands your language," she says, mind spinning. "You said that Thor did, didn't you?" At the same time, she doesn't think he should move anywhere, but rather, rest instead. "How about we get you something to eat, then we'll find him later?"

It had been a few days since Thor had seen Thorfinn but that was nothing unusual. Their paths in the village did not always cross and to not see him for just a few short days was nothing to cause alarm. To see him emerge from the fountain like a new arrival, though? That was something unusual.

Thor caught the boy speaking his own language, the one he rarely used in favor of the English that most used here. Strange.

"Have you forgotten the common tongue here?", he asked, using Thorfinn's language instead of the English he'd been most used to for much of his life. They'd once worshiped him as a god, after all. Thor retained the knowledge of their tongue.

Thorfinn was on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He didn't consider himself one to get tired easy but swimming through cold waters had always zapped his energy, but it never really stopped him. He could feel the chill all the way to his bones.

He had learned in his time before that so few understood him that it was best if he just stopped speaking his language and focused on the common english. But it felt so far away now, hearing the voice he knew so well he looked up through his wet bangs, his brown eyes wide and confused, a hand moving to clutch a wound that was no longer there but his brain hadn't realized it yet. "...I... I don't know, Thor. Something is not right." He dropped his head and choked up some water, his shorter hair still fell like a golden halo around his face, hiding his eyes that were downcast to the cold ground. "Why am I back?"

"I do not know," Thor said, extending his hands down to Thorfinn to aid him to his feet if he wished it. He cared about the young man and he did not want to see him in distress; Thor was actually quite grateful he'd come back. He'd worried.

"When did you disappear and how did you come back through the fountain?"

It's a day where Kate's ankle is bothering her. It feels stiff, with a deep ache that no amount of pressure seems to ease; she's limping, a little, and hates it. The pain doesn't vanish when she sees Thorfinn, but she ignores it in favour of grabbing a blanket from a cabinet and rushing over.

"Thorfinn?"

But no, he looks soaked and away, not quite aware. She revises her next statement. "Thorfinn, clothes off. You're cold."

Simple words, hopefully they'll get through. He's made such progress with English, but she knows how quickly languages can vanish when one is in some physical distress.

Edited 2017-03-19 05:33 (UTC)

Thorfinn was to focused on the warmth of the fire, he had known if he was gone as long as it felt like he was, his house was likely occupied or at least the fire was long dead, but it hadn't been a full six months for him, and it was still winter here, he had no idea how long he was gone. Veronica and Thor's reactions clearly showed he had vanished, but if they said how long he had lost it in the shock of it all.

It was Kate's voice, he remembered so well her helping him learn, her smile, the way she didn't let him get away with his own ways, the same as Gudrid. He looked at her, his eyes wide still shivering, looking at her like she was mad. He was already cold why would he....

Well, Kate usually knew best. He reached down pulling the scrub shirt over his chest and tossing it closer to the fire with a wet smack, he looked different more so now, deep angry scars across his chest now in perfect lines, a bear claw right across his chest. It looked healed though, there were so many scars on him though who really knew new ones from old? He didn't go for the boots or pants yet reaching up for the blanket in her hands, for once his hands were shaking.

Most of what the Immortal had done since he arrived was come to grips with what inevitably was in his world; his death. The end of almost 2,000 years of existing that - in retrospect - seemed mostly like one of those really long dreams a person could have. Only to realize upon waking that the reality of it was likely that the dream only was minutes long.

This place was far different than the City, and keeping busy enough to distract from the thoughts of dying were easier said than done. That particular particular day, Caius was sitting at one of the tables with a cup of coffee and a book he found at Claire and Marg's house.

When the young man arrives at the inn, soaking wet and looking more like a new arrival than someone who slipped and fell into the river, Caius glances up when Thorfinn situates himself at the hearth.

"Shit, you look like you could use a blanket, or 3. And a stiff drink. Can I get you something, man?"

Edited 2017-03-25 15:43 (UTC)

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Open: It's more than nature It's like my destiny.

The Inn

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Fountain

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Inn