[Seasonal Event] This mess I've made

WESSEX out of the night that covers me While Wessex may not feel the cold, personally, the majority of her life has been dependent on keeping warm. It is the first thing she notices. The second is that Rory isn’t… quite himself. Rather than comment on his strange behavior, she gives him a half-smile and enters the house. The bag of nails hits the counter and after quickly finding the wood again (there had been plenty stockpiled in the house for LongNight), she starts to build a fire. Kindling on the bottom, three logs on top, and then she stands back and, risking rather a lot, strikes the flint he has by the hearth. Sparks fly. The dry stuff catches, and soon she is nursing a happy, flickering fire. That done, Wessex rises and fixes Rory with a critical eye. Vacant gaze. Kind of lost look, like he’s recently been orphaned, or is secretly an abandoned puppy. She sees the scars on his face and the scars. The slow way he shuffles around his own house. Multiple things are wrong, and she’s not sure where to begin.  “Right. You look like shit, Rory. Have you eaten?” Does she need to make him some food? It won’t be gourmet, but it will be filling and nutritious. Should she ask what happened? Are these the marks of serious trauma? Nah. Better dance around everything emotional for awhile. It is the Theskyra way. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul