The night-sky over Dawnstar is speckled brightly like the coat of a newborn fawn. Signe sighs wistfully into the silence, releasing a puff of steam into the cold winter air. Her cheeks are rosy with the influence of few too many ales.
“Another year, eh?” The nord spoke, her mother gently rocked in the wooden chair next to her. “You still don’t want to move to Whiterun do ya, Ma? You know I’ll build you a new house just like this one.”
Sigrun sighed, tucking away her pale blond locks, streaks of white were intertwined within her braids. “Signe, this home was my Ma’s and her Ma’s before that. It’s old and got character like me. I’d hate to leave it alone. I think you’ll understand one day, I’m like the old oak that learned to love it’s place in the world. You got room to grow too, dear, don’t worry about us.”
There was a solemn silence as Signe hung her head, she took another sip of her tankard, gaining the courage to smile.
“Alright, Ma. I’ll stop bothering you then. I wan’t you to come see it one day, can I have that? I worked so damn hard on that little farm I want you to see it.” A chill brushed past her warmed face as Signe watched her mother’s expression, the wise lines in her face and the cool colors of the sky that Kyne blessed them with. She was tall and stocky just like Signe, the titan’s blood ran through their veins like honest pride.
“I will, dear.” She puffed on her pipe and blew swirls of smoke. Her voice was worn slightly from the use. “...Just promise me you’ll listen to me for once. You know that keeping yourself busy isn’t gonna fix what hurts in your heart. Don’t wear yourself thin trying to get away from it. Grow where you are planted, child. Don’t let the ants eat at your bark.”
Signe turned the tankard in her palms, ruminating those words.
“I’ll try to, Ma.”
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