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Exploring the Fields (Hamingja: 6x4, 5x1, 4x3, 3x1, 2x4, 1x3) 7 Successes
The massive shadow of your roughly Abjorn-sized cindersoot owl passes over the landscape of your fields. A small family of deer feeding on your hinterland crops scatter as the shadow passes overhead.
Rather then annoy you, it only draws a smile to your face. After all, with the wolves running around, it had been some time since you last spotted such things. Where once you would've grabbed your Abjorn and started swinging, now you simply enjoy the fact that live is returning to normality.
"Hooo..."
You flush bright red as Abjorn's chest—which you, of course, are resting your head against—rumbles with laughter. He chuckles and runs a hand through your hair, gently stroking the fresh, ashy-gray feathers sprouting from within that sea of deep, dark-red. Fortunately, your face can't quite reach that same shade, else you would
literally be a redhead.
Though now your eyes do, quite literally, light up whenever you lay them upon Abjorn's stupid, handsome mug...
Soon after your newest additions came in, Asgeirr started collecting the ones that inevitably fell out—you
moult now, by the way. Like some kind of bird! But, rather then eating them or something—though he did immediately stick that first feather in his mouth—he instead has taken to weaving them into his hair... just like you.
You know, now that you think about it, you do see a lot of yourself in Asgeirr. When you were young, you used to fly into a rage at the slightest insinuation that you were worth less just because you were a girl. Now, of course, you just have to unsheathe Sagaseeker and most problems resolve themselves. Wasn't always like that, though.
At the moment, Asgeirr's just staring at the smoke wind– Oh, by the Gods he's started climbing a pillar!
"Asgeirr,
no! Bad!" Abjorn frowns as you leap to your feet—don't worry, Aby! You'll be back soon enough!—and scoop up your eldest before he can get very far.
Asgeirr folds his arms as you plop him down on his father's chest. He glares at you. You stick your tongue out at him. He cracks a smile and rolls his eyes.
"You can't stop me forever, Mama."
That... stops you in your tracks. It feels like just yesterday your eldest were little babies, but now they're three. Old enough to start learning about the world and the things in it.
...They're gonna be all grown-up before you know it, aren't they?
While you didn't find much beyond confirmation that nature is healing, you did find out that you're a bit more attached to your children then you may have otherwise realized.
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Seeress talk
"Nice hair," the Seeress pithily observes from over the rim of her mug.
"Thank you so much," you grit out through a strained smile. "That is definitely not the only thing I've been told for the past three full days."
"Of course it hasn't been the only thing, that would be hyperbole," she declines hiding her wry grin as your eyes spark with annoyance. "I kid, I kid," she chortles as her tea cup finds a home on the table and her hands find residence in her lap. "Now then, in light of recent developments, why don't we have today's lesson be about fylgjur, hm?"
"Sounds good to me," you pause as a thought comes to mind. "Oh, and, if you could, can you take a look at Wessex and see if there is anywhere with a notable surplus of food?"
She arches a brow, but an eye swivels westward nonetheless. Purple orthstirr flows like smoke from her eye as she gazes into English lands, "The city of Winchester, the seat of the Lone-Standing King's court, has the food you seek." She winces and screws her eye shut. A palm leaps to her eye as blood starts to trickle down her cheek. "Strong defenses, that city has," she manages to grunt out before turning to you, "my apologies, but we'll have to cut today's lesson short as I'd rather not lose the eye."
After she stops her eye from degenerating any further, she does actually manage to show you the proper way of performing a Banishing Rebuke—it's a right-turning double-wrist-spin, not a left-turning triple-wrist-spin,
obviously.
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Asvir
Striding from the Seeress' tent, you immediately spot Gabriel leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He's watching the busy goings-ons of a harvest-time village, an odd look to his eye. It's like he's committing it all to memory.
The market is teaming with life, with a notably large amount of water-wolf furs on sale this month. Looks like a good portion of the felag decided to sell. So, good news there!
There's a large crowd hanging around the beached ships. With around two-hundred people in it, you're looking at the vast majority of men in the entire Valley. All of which are clamoring for a seat on a ship.
...While most of them may not starve, they've been reminded that death is just around the corner. No wonder they want to get as much food as possible.
What would you like to do in Asvir?
[ ] Go shopping!
-[ ] Write in
[ ] Talk to Gabriel about Wessex
[ ] Start sorting through the options for your ship's crew
-[ ] Write in what sort of attributes you're looking for
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AN: Apologies for combining Gabriel and Asvir together, but I was getting very tired and wanted to get this out because I said I would.
No moratorium.