Over the hills, past the forest in deep into the peace plains of a hidden glen; stood a cabin. The cabin adorned with large windows and the logging meticulously measured and lined before having been set in the foundation. No magical presence could be felt or was visible from the surroundings, only buried stone walkways and patio, surrounding an inlaid brick firepit. Hand cut wooden loungers, numbering 4, surrounded the pit which was filled with log scraps, sticks, and leaf refuse. A figure opened the front door, wrapped in a thick fur blanket and draped around their head.
The figure carried a tarnished metallic tray, which held a couple of cups and a large clay jug. The steam coming from the jug was thick, which only reaffirmed to the figure how chilly it was getting outside. The figure set the tray on one of the chairs and removed the fur blanket from their person, laying it on the back of the chair and revealing it to be a male, long dark hair messily tied back. His once scruffy beard was only a few steps from full blown Vry’kul warrior. His golden amber eyes scanning the area before blowing some hot breath into his hands and rubbing them together for some warmth. “Fuckin’ ‘ells it’s gettin’ cold quick.”
He began adding some dried logs in the pit and adjusting them to stand in position to better burn at an even rate on all sides. He tucked some kindling in the center and using his old rusting goblin zippo, he lit the kindling and blew into the embers, allowing it to spread. The fire started small, but was catching and beginning to grow, warming the area rather well; slowly but surely.
He poured the two cups full of the liquid from the jug, sniffing it with greedy desire for the warm cinnamon and orange spice. He took a sip of the cider and softly moaned in his throat, sloshing it around with his tongue a bit before swallowing it down and looking around once more, pulling a few scrolls and seals envelopes from his hip bag, looking at each one. Some marked for him, and others for one, Dithaya, respectively.
“Dith!” He called out, seemingly to himself, but he knew she was nearby. She always was. Finding her either at the makeshift archery targets, or making more claw creations for their household, or perhaps painting using herbal pigments. She was an elf, she would hear him, he was sure.
“Got some warm cider for you. And some letters with your name.” He wouldn’t open her mail, especially the one in a parchment envelope that smelt of perfume. Likely an admirer, or ex, he mused with a chuckle. Those were set aside, however. He took another sip of his drink before setting the cup on the brick of the pit, and leaned back against it as he worked a dexterous finger behind the wax seal to pop it open, so he could easily reseal and act like he never received it, if need be.
He wasn’t a bad guy. But he was still a bit of a shit, it seemed.
