#im going to keep adding to this as my brain continues to Stew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter 5: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate.

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1539

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes.

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic.

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood.

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek.

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.”

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

Previous Next

#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogical #analogicalweek #analogical week #virgil sanders #logan sanders #collab #collaboration

39 notes · View notes

wizardsnwookies · 6 years

Text

DFD022218 - Stories by the Fire

Raven quietly bussed the empty dishes in front of one of her regulars, Talmuld the carpenter and was thanked with the traditional nod. The inn was filled with the usual suspects tonight, with no indication it would be unlike any other. She brushed a lock of her ebony hair out of her faced and contemplated again cutting it short. Back in her adventuring days she would keep it no longer than below her ears, chopping it hap haphazardly with her dirk if it got too long. These days there weren’t much cause for worry regarding a goblin grabbing hold of her locks and pulling her head back to slit her throat, it helped keep her neck warm, but damned if it wasn’t a nuisance.

The banging of the door as it slammed back against the wall broke into her thoughts, the cold wind blew in from the night and flakes of snow wafted in onto the floor. Heavy boots tracked it in even further. She’d have to mop that up. She looked at the clock that never kept that well a time, but it was enough to estimate. Everyone who was going to show was either here or came and went. Travelers. Her spirit lifted at the thought of full coin purses and she turned to greet them warmly, her smile was immediately wiped clean off her face when she saw who was among the newcomers.

“What is this a temple? This is a place of revelry and warmth!!” Baldric twirled off his coat and handed it to the nearest table to hang up for him, kicking the snow from his heels and already identifying the easy pickings in the crowd. “Come, pull up your chairs and I will tell you of our treacherous journey to your lovely town!”

Surtur rolled his eyes and relieved a confused young woman of Baldric’s coat, tossing it outside into the snow. “Long story short, he was hit by a kobold’s sling and cried!”

Baldric ignored the shot and sat on top of one of the tables, leaning in towards the crowd that had quickly become drawn to his energy. “Why, it’s so cold out there you’d freeze your beard off!”

“NO, not my beard!” A drunkard gasped.

“YES! Why look at me. When we began this journey I had a magnificent beard, but now...” Baldric rubbed his bare chin for effect. “Smooth as a baby’s arse!!” Baldric bellowed with laughter, slapping his knee. Laughter tended to be infections, even if it was disingenuous. Sure enough, the sleepy crowd followed in turn, perking up from their tankards.

Surtur and Siggrun hung their furs up on the rack and founds seats at the bar, trying their best to ignore the commotion beginning to grow around them. Raven moved towards them with baleful eyes cast in the bard’s direction.

“Food and drink, if you please.” Surtur set down his flail in the chair next to him as if it were his precious son.

“Of course.” Raven coldly poured two pints and shoved them towards the pair of dwarves. Her sour mood only to get worse.

“-for days now, with nothing but the packs on our back. Our feet have become bloodied and blistered, our bellies filled with nought but dried beef well past it’s due, our whetskins so dry we wring from them nought but the oil used to tan them...” Baldric was laying it on thick now, but damned him if it didn’t work.

“Raven! Get this man food and drink by Gods! On me!”

“Why sir, I am astounded and humbled by your generosity. If I may repay you for such kindness,” Baldric removed the look from behind him and shot a wink in Raven’s direction.

“Ugh...what are you doing traveling with him?” She scribbled the order down on a scrap of paper and slammed it down on the window behind her leading into the kitchen.

“Hoping to make a man out of him.” Surtur wiped the ale from his whiskers. Curious, it tasted somewhat sweeter than common ale, more like mead than anything else really.

“Good luck with that. Some free advice? That one’s bad news.”

“Aye, we’re well aware lassie.” Siggrun folded his arms on the counter and pulled a face. “Unfortunately we’re stuck with ‘em for the time being. Eh, but mebbe we get lucky and the mountain will put him out of our misery.”

“Not Death Frost?” She slid two bowls of steaming yak stew in front of them, the color drained from her rosy cheeks.

“Aye, that be the one.”

“Let me guess, Lord Umber?”

Siggrun and Surtur exchanged looks.

“You’re not the first he’s sent up that mountain, not the first dwarf either. About five years back, name of Winston. I tried to warn him that the pass was haunted but he wouldn’t hear anything of it. No one’s seen him since.” Raven felt a chill run up her spine. In her days of blood and glory she never stood down from anything that lay in front of her, but even thinking of that mountain...

“Hey, you pansy ass bastard, get over here, we’re talking business!” Surtur leaned over his shoulder and made sure to shout loud enough for the whole inn to hear. The look Baldric shot him could curdle goat’s milk.

“Please, do excuse me. I’m afraid I’m the brains of this operation, can’t do a thing without me.” Another boisterous laugh left his lips but was cut short the instant he was out of earshot. “What the HELL are you doing?? I was working that crowd!”

“And they weep for their loss I’m sure.” Siggrun shoved him into the counter, knocking the wind out of his chest before continuing. “Funny you should mention Winston, I ‘ad a friend of mine head up this way looking for ‘im. Human by the name of Norquist, ring any bells?”

Raven shook her head. “No, and we don’t get many visitors around here.”

Siggrun frowned and took a solemn pull from his tankard, such news didn’t bode well. “Well, you were saying something about a pass?”

“Yeah, leads you straight up the mountain.” Raven cast her eyes over to the wall, as if looking through it and out into the snow, towards the dark shadow that loomed over the entire town. “Word is it’s cursed, so it’s still not something I’d recommend doing, but considering the alternative.”

“The alternative being?” Baldric slouched over, he was already bored.

“Scaling the mountain yourself, which is a death sentence. But in your case, be my guest.” She stared daggers at him. This one had been a thorn in her side before. Strolling into town with nothing to his name, coming into her inn, fleecing her customers, and walking out with everything he could carry.

The bard smiled, a thought slithering its way through his lizard brain. He wondered, did she hate him enough to not be worth the attempt? The payoff, on the other hand, was quite tempting. What the hell, let’s give it a go.

“I’d listen to her my friends, she may look like just another beautiful young maiden behind a bar. Don’t let that fool you. Why, in her day she was a thing of legends. I have sung songs of her achievements that have left the crowd in nothing short of awe.”

Wow. Did he actually think that would work on her, Raven thought? Did he think her simple? The bastard. She looked at the other two for some kind of sympathy or shared disgust in this little wart. These two dwarfs seemed decent enough men. Sturdy. Brave... I wonder?

Raven looked around her at the inn that sometimes seemed like it was falling down around her. Talmuld was a miracle worker with a hammer, but even he could only repair something so far before it needed fresh wood. Up here, that tended to get expensive in the quantities she would need it. New stairs, roof patching, doors, stools, table tops...we’re talking a lot of gold. The kind of gold an adventurer would pull in...

“Alright, you want me to go with you? Fine.”

Baldric smiled, got her!

“On one condition,” she jabbed a finger into his chest and dug in. “You pay these people back everything by paying their way tonight.”

Surtur chuckled, he liked this one! Meanwhile, Siggrun was busy admiring the well toned muscles hidden by her simple tunic. The way they bulged out of the fabric when she poked the bard in the chest told him she was no stranger to wielding a sword. There would be no objections from him.

“Fine.” Baldric surprised them all, gently taking her finger and moving it away form his chest he turned and bellowed into the crowd, arms raised high above his head. “Everyone!! Next round is on me!!!”

A deafening cheer rang out into the inn, tankards were raised in a toast to this delightful young man. Sour old men that Raven had yet to see smile at all this evening walked up and slapped him on the shoulder, eager to receive their next drink. Raven squinted her eyes, this, she was not expecting. Baldric spun back around and returned her confusion with a smile that was dripping with self satisfaction and pulled a small shift of paper from inside his tunic and handing it to the barmaid.

“You’ll want to pack your heavy coat. It’s bound to get cold up there.”

Raven examined the piece of paper and she cursed to herself. It was a expense slip, all to be charged in the name of Lord Umber.

---

“Hey...whazzin this pie?” Surtur’s speech slurred as he struggled to maintain balance on the stool, eventually he gave up and leaned against the bar top. He gestured with his fork to the half eaten slab of warm fruit pie in front of him. It was all the Inn served, and he had had more than his share of it.

“Frostberries.” Raven smiled, taking the opportunity to slide his tankard away, hiding it under the counter. “It’s about the only thing that grows up here, so we use it for everything we can. Even the ale.”

“I thought it tassssssted sweet.”

“Come on now lad, I think you’ve had enough.” An armored arm wrapped itself around Surtur’s shoulder and pulled him to the ground, making sure he stood nice and sturdy on his own two feet. Siggrun tossed a purse of coins behind him to Raven. “I’ll see him to bed. Now get yourself some sleep, we’re off early in the mornin’.”

The two dwarves slowly made their way upstairs, stopping every few steps to make sure Surtur didn’t fall or worse, wretch all over the priest holding him up. In the corner of the inn, Baldric smiled and watched them dissappear at the top of the stairs and waited until he heard two doors close solidly. Separate rooms, thank the Gods.

They had been traveling together for some time now, and aside from the night at Lord Umber’s manor they had been sharing a tent the entire time. Two dwarves and a human, three sets of armor, Surtur’s ungodly large flail, and their packs, all crammed into a humid tent bathing in the scent of three individuals who were covered in callouses, scars, and had not bathed in days. Baldric was aching for a soft bed, and more pleasant company.

Looking around he was dismayed to find he was the last one awake, all of Wolfshead’s residents were warm in their beds now as far as he can tell...that is, all except himself and Raven, whom he suspected would awaken him with a knife in the back considering her past attitudes.

Although...perhaps not. He had managed to get her to come along hadn’t he? Besides, imagining a warm soft body smelling of ale and flowers was far too tempting. He could at the very least give it the old college try. Who knows, he might get lucky.

“So, Raven.” He poured every ounce of charm he had on reserve into his voice. The look he gave her was not promising towards his odds of success. “Seeing as we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, I was just wondering...

“Well, it’s awfully cold out there tonight, and you know what they say about body heat being the best way to keep warm.” He slipped his hand across the counter and rested it gently on hers. For a moment he braced himself, expecting a knife to come crashing down, sacrificing her own hand just to spite him.

“You know what Baldric, I think you’re right.” Raven cooed sweetly.

“I am?”

“Absolutely.” She leaned forward before pulling away, showing off her assets as she made her way into the kitchen. “Just let me get a few things.”

Wow, thought Baldric. I honestly didn’t think that would work. He smiled to himself noting to never again doubt his abilities. His self congratulatory mood was broken however by the emergence of a massive orc pulling off a stained chef’s apron.

“I hear you like body warmth.” Baldric’s eyes watered at the foul breath that leaked from a mouth of half rotten teeth. The orc’s hygiene habits made the dwaves seem like primed and proper. His massive chest was as if chiseled from stone and covered in a forest of hair. Scars littered his skin, the areas that weren’t covered in warts and sores that is. From beneath his arms an acrid stench combined with the breath and made the bard light headed. That cramped tent, suddenly seemed far more appealing.

Behind the orc Raven leaned against the jamb of the door leading into the kitchen, a triumphant smile plastered on her face. Touche, Raven, Baldric though. Well played indeed, but I’ll be damned if I let you think you’ve won. Otherwise, the journey up that mountain would be doubly insufferable.

Baldric straightened an composed himself, holding his chin high he turned and headed for the stairs. “Well, looks like I’m the little spoon then.”

---

Gor, prayed Siggrun, give me strength so that I may continue the work of the Bloodyhand. Your servants fought this evil once before, if it not be finished, I will bring their work to a close in your glorious name.

Ice cold winds pelted his skin, melting for the briefest of moments before freezing in his beard. He could feel the cold pressure of the snow through his furs as they trudged through the drifts of the covered pass. This was only the beginning, they had a long ways yet to go. He had strength enough for now, but he knew only Gor would ultimately decide his fate. He only wished that his god was kind enough to let him die a beautiful death, with a weapon in his hand, and blood upon his face. A warriors death, as all deaths should be.

On their second day of hiking, the town below appeared as it could be held in his palm, but still the mountain loomed ahead of them. He looked back at the Bard, struggling to keep up as was expected. Raven took the rear, bless her. She knew Baldric’s pride would not allow him to be the last in line. As long as she kept pace behind him, Baldric would keep moving and they would keep to their time.

“Hold up, we’ve got something up ahead.” Surtur held up a fist allowing Siggrun to catch up and peer through the flurries. Dusk was falling, so he was forced to squint to catch the rest but a warm campfire was easily spotted just outside a cluster of trees.

“What is it? We making camp?” Raven shoved the lagging Bard forward, not a bead of sweat on her brow.

“Someone is. A tanner maybe, or a fur trapper from the looks of it.” Siggrun motioned to the camp before them. They could smell it from here, the fresh gore of hide hanging from the trees. Wolf pelt, fox, even a bear. Bones and antlers littered the red puddles of melted snow, and the naked corpses of animals heaped to one side gathering snow.

“Old Zeke.” Raven wrinkled her nose as the stench, her voice lowering to just above a whisper. “Best be careful from her on out. He’s a bit...off, but long as we don’t upset him we should be fine.”

The group pressed forward slowly, more details coming into view and the foul odor coming more and more pervasive. On each hanging skin, were names, scrawled with a trembling hand and written in blood. These names it seemed, were being copied onto wooden plaques, delicately carved. Each one resting in various stages of completion below their corresponding skin. Just as they were about to hail the resident within the crude shack, a massive figure pushed back the heavy skins and stepped out into the snow.

The man was massive, standing nearly two heads taller than Baldric. The cold eyes that stared back at his visitors showed his years, years that had not at all been kind or easy. Blood covered him head to toe, dried flecks of red stained his long grey beard. For a moment there was only the dull clatter of the wooden bowl and spoon tucked under his arm as he examined the group before a weary grin curled from his lips.

“Well now, been a long time since I’ve had visitors up these parts. Raven, keeping them lads at bay down at the inn?”

“Best I can.” Raven forced a slight smile, but her stance was tense Siggrun noticed, ready for anything. A warrior’s stance. He was liking this woman more and more. “How you keeping up here?”

“Oh, I manage.” An old chuckle fell out of him and Zeke groaned as he lowered himself down onto a hunk of tree pulled up to the fire. Wrinkled hands, seemingly not bothered by the frigid temperatures reached out and stirred a bubbling pot of stew within a small camp cauldron. “Supper just about came on, you’re welcome to it if you like. Warm you up ‘fore your way back.”

“‘Way back?’“ The bard shifted in his place and sucked his teeth. Siggrun noticed it as a nervous tell, he was uncomfortable. For once, the warpriest couldn’t blame him.

“Afraid I can’t let you got much further than here.”

“Why not?” Surtur shot a careful look Siggrun’s way, a part of the unspoken communication they had perfected through their journeys. A careful look in his direction betrayed a slight tightening of his grip upon the flail heaved over his shoulder.

“It’s cursed land.” Stew slopped and steamed into Zeke’s bowl. Not once did he look up from it. His voice steady, very matter of fact.

“I ain’t afraid. I’ll punish whatever’s up there.” Siggrun finally spoke up, pulling aside his furs to flash the sigil of Gor emblazoned upon his armor. Only then did Zeke’s eyes lift from his dinner, they paused briefly on the sigil, then stared into Siggrun’s eyes with a burning intensity that sent a shock through his system.

“If you ain’t afraid, you ought to be. I’ll say it again, I ain’t letting you up that mountain.

“Ask Raven, she’ll tell you what the people in Wolfshead think of me. Think me simple, maybe even mad. Now don’t go fibbing little lady, I know it’s true.” Zeke held up a hand to stop Raven’s feeble attempts at protesting. He closed his eyes, setting his bowl into the snow and leaned forward on his knees.

“Fact is, I know more of the truth than most down there do about this mountain. Those that do, they’re content to keep quiet of the fact, try and forget. That’s fine, I understand. Some things are just too much for folk to bare. Sometimes the only way to keep on is to forget. Some days I wish I could, but the fact is, someone has to remember, for them.” Zeke motioned to the names carved on the plagues, painted in blood on hanging skins above them.

“I seen them graves the cult dug for them. Little more than holes in the ground really. Tossed them aside like rotten vegetables from the cellar. So many bodies, can’t hope to remember them all. They kept good records though, if’n I hadn’t lost my nerve I’d have made a copy of them while I was up there.”

Surtur sat down across the old man warming himself by the fire and grabbing his own bowl from his pack. “Maybe you can tell us where to find it. We could bring it back-”

“Ain’t you been listening?” Zeke snapped, almost moving to a stand. Siggrun felt his muscles tense instinctively, beside him he watched Raven’s hand reach for the hilt of her sword, Baldric was conveniently absent. Surtur put a hand up, shaking his head, the signal to hold.

“I told you, that place is cursed. You don’t bring nothing down from off that mountain or you’ll bring it with you, and you ain’t going up there anyhow. What you want up there anyways?” The old man’s eyes narrowed, staring through each and every one of them.

“Gold, obviously. What other reason is there?” Finally showing himself, Baldric was immediately met with Raven’s elbow in his gut. But it was too late, Zeke had heard him and replied with by spitting on the ground.

“What good is gold if you’re dead?”

“I’m looking for someone who went missing not a few days ago.” Siggrun stepped forward and returned Zeke’s stare unflinchingly. “He went looking for a mutual friend who was sent up that mountain on a quest and never came back.”

For a moment, Zeke’s eyes softened, his muscles relaxed some, and he almost appeared to sink back into the stump, deflating as he let out a long sigh. “He like family?”

“Aye.”

Everything was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire and soft flutter of snow falling from weighted branches. “It’s getting dark. Eat up, you can share my shack for the night if you wish.” He offered nothing else and ignoring his half-eaten dinner in the snow beside him, Zeke stood and retreated to his tent.

The group looked at each other, neither of them sure of what had happened, or what to expect from the morning. Eventually, cold and hunger forced them to comply and fill their bellies with a hunters stew of water, blood, and tough hunks of meat. Upon entering the shack they found the old man already asleep in a pile of furs in the corner, and when they awakened the next morning, he was gone.

#death frost doom #Dungeon World #role playing games #campaign diary

2 notes · View notes