Are
Gods damn it, damn it all to Muspelheim and back.
All of it.
Futile attempt after futile attempt to make sense of it all, it was all for naught. Broken down by the simple silence of a lonely hovel and a dead hearth. Add to that bouts of what he could only describe as the wrath of dvergr, small men with hammers banging away at the inside of his skull., and the breaking point was fast approaching.
A breaking point to be frank. Even without the physical bit he had been doing just fine grinding his sanity down on his own, locked in his workshop for days on end, keeping busy just to make the memories go away for a moment. Memories that just made less sense the more he tried to make order among them.
Another restless night was the last drop in an already overflowing cup. He needed solace, introspection, and a bath... Just something to let it all flow free, if just for a few hours. Enough to let off the pressure that made his head spin and his vision darken.
And so his pack fell heavy to the soft ground of the place he'd heard of but yet to visit. The signs of a world well awake and greeting the sun was heavy on the air. The sound of birds and flowing water almost drowning out his shouting mind, at least making it all seem a yoke light enough to keep carrying. For a moment he just sat on a moss covered stump and took it all in.
Tranquility, serene nothingness.
And for a moment the world stopped. Everything put on hold for a heartbeat, to breathe and to remind oneself of what mattered.
So the cobbler sat, breathed, and allowed his eyes to slide shut. Invited the world in for a brief moment without care or worry.
All of it.
Futile attempt after futile attempt to make sense of it all, it was all for naught. Broken down by the simple silence of a lonely hovel and a dead hearth. Add to that bouts of what he could only describe as the wrath of dvergr, small men with hammers banging away at the inside of his skull., and the breaking point was fast approaching.
A breaking point to be frank. Even without the physical bit he had been doing just fine grinding his sanity down on his own, locked in his workshop for days on end, keeping busy just to make the memories go away for a moment. Memories that just made less sense the more he tried to make order among them.
Another restless night was the last drop in an already overflowing cup. He needed solace, introspection, and a bath... Just something to let it all flow free, if just for a few hours. Enough to let off the pressure that made his head spin and his vision darken.
And so his pack fell heavy to the soft ground of the place he'd heard of but yet to visit. The signs of a world well awake and greeting the sun was heavy on the air. The sound of birds and flowing water almost drowning out his shouting mind, at least making it all seem a yoke light enough to keep carrying. For a moment he just sat on a moss covered stump and took it all in.
Tranquility, serene nothingness.
And for a moment the world stopped. Everything put on hold for a heartbeat, to breathe and to remind oneself of what mattered.
So the cobbler sat, breathed, and allowed his eyes to slide shut. Invited the world in for a brief moment without care or worry.
