6/13/2025, 5:48 PM
Far accustomed to arduous journeys, Rhadamanthus carved a path from the seaside he'd been spit out onto. With the slowly setting sun as his guide, he follows it westward. Getting familiar with this new...shape has come with its learning curves; he was much faster, and yet, he feels like a newborn fawn.
Uncoordinated, unfamiliar. He preservers, as this hardly the most difficult trial he's faced. Eyes keener and sharper than when he was man, they scour. Searching. He's seen no spires or castles, not longhouses or bonfire smoke creeping above the treeline. Though, he supposed this was normal.
His sword would be helpful, as would hands with thumbs...but there is no time to mull over this drastic change. He needs to find others. And perhaps find a new home, if he wouldn't be returning to Ararnir.
The faintest, sweetest of scents allure him in a manner unfamiliar, but enticing. It guides him closer and further through the tundra wild lands that bittersweetly remind him of home, until there's a movement on the horizon that veers his path.
A woman. Soft in color, even softer in shape. Rhadamanthus' footsteps are heavy through the snow as he approaches. Calmly, incase the woman would frighten at an image certainly not man, he comes closer. With a respectful birth between them, his gravelly voice rises above the gently howl of winds.
Uncoordinated, unfamiliar. He preservers, as this hardly the most difficult trial he's faced. Eyes keener and sharper than when he was man, they scour. Searching. He's seen no spires or castles, not longhouses or bonfire smoke creeping above the treeline. Though, he supposed this was normal.
His sword would be helpful, as would hands with thumbs...but there is no time to mull over this drastic change. He needs to find others. And perhaps find a new home, if he wouldn't be returning to Ararnir.
The faintest, sweetest of scents allure him in a manner unfamiliar, but enticing. It guides him closer and further through the tundra wild lands that bittersweetly remind him of home, until there's a movement on the horizon that veers his path.
A woman. Soft in color, even softer in shape. Rhadamanthus' footsteps are heavy through the snow as he approaches. Calmly, incase the woman would frighten at an image certainly not man, he comes closer. With a respectful birth between them, his gravelly voice rises above the gently howl of winds.
Good morning.Paired with a crooked, half-smile that still feels foreign,
Would you happen to know where we are?
![[Image: 88836705_BUZsWBizMUKyNqC.gif]](https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/images/88836705_BUZsWBizMUKyNqC.gif)
⛊
"common • norse"
eve is welcome in all threads.