[o] Cheese Respite

Kip

It was an unusually bright day in the Barrows, especially for it being only Flowerbirth, giving a small reprieve from the nippy air. Snow clung to the highest areas of the Barrow hills as if trying its hardest not to melt—yet no one could stop the inevitable, leaving the lower lands cold, wet, and hazardous to those not sure-footed.

Among the Barrows roamed a familiar face, a caretaker, Kip, a quiet man who tried his best to complete his work unbothered. Colder seasons, or thawing seasons such as Flowerbirth, meant the foot traffic was light, which meant Kip was usually in an optimistic mood.

Adding to his contentment, his rounds had so far not alerted him to any dangers or spirits running amok—everything was peaceful, like even the dead decided to slumber away until a warmer time.

Within the finite moments of calm, Kip stole away time for himself, searching for a place to sit to have his fifth snack of the day so far. A man of his size needed snacks! Or so he told others when questioned about his ferocious appetite.
He was gentle with his actions, as if every move needed to be mindful of the spirits and shrines resting nearby, cautious to lay his walking stick beside him with care—he loved his walking stick; whittled from a fallen branch and carved with detail. He began to unbind a bundle from the top of the stick, a makeshift sack for all of his snacking and walking needs. Scattered in the weathered bundle, Kip produced a semi-smashed half-loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, and a type of dried, peppered meat whose origin he was unsure of.

Certainly, he could store these items in a normal bag, but the large man found it easier to carry the bundle to keep edible items at the ready.

Head and body cloaked in an earthen green cloak, it was difficult to see when a pairing knife was produced, carving away at the block of cheese and happily devouring the pieces.

This was his happy place—his place for cheese-fed respite.

relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction

Flowerbirth was struggling to fully take root. Which means the frigidity of the Barrows continued to leak through toward the meadows of Mourn, though it doesn’t stop Sunjata from taking a few moments to survey everything. After all, the Barrows were home to the Refuge and the House of Midnight, and wasn’t too far of a flight down toward New Haven. So he takes wing, this time in the form of his Pegasus shift, small and relatively unassuming and nowhere near as threatening as his dragon shift would be.

He’s flying overhead when he notices the brief movement there by the graves, a green cloak that would otherwise blend the man in to the ground beneath him if it weren’t for the plants struggling to fully take root with the grip of Deepfrost still hanging on.

The Pegasus descends, a far enough distance away to not startle anyone and shifts back into himself to make his approach, immediately flashing a smile when he notices who it is among the Barrows. A wave is offered to try and catch attention, before the Heartless calls out from this distance. “Hey Kip!” He greets, pulling down the sleeves of his dark green sweater over scars and tattoos alike, doing his best to keep him warm out here. He’s careful as he makes his approach to not step on any graves or any headstones that might be underlined in the ground, always taken care of by the Caretaker lest the grass try to take them over. “How’s it going?”

the heartless

waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes

totally sniped from odd ilu

Kip

The large, cheese-snacking man should have known Sunjata was approaching, because nothing else in the forest smelled of lavish feast–golden honey ham and sweet cinnamon rolls, somehow the combination worked–an exact match to what Kip most desired.  

Oh, how he wished he had brought more to eat on this day. 

Belly grumbling, Kip tipped his head up just the other waved from afar. Politeness led him to pull back his earthy cloak, revealing familiar features. Skin, despite not seeing much sun during the colder season, was still dark as roots and the dead leaves that scattered the grounds, his eyes–nearly blending in outside of the golden ropes along the edges. His frame remained hidden under his cloak, but beneath the leafy fibers was nothing special: Kip was just a large man with a heart of gold. He was slow to smile, not because he was unfriendly, but because Kip moved like the ancients, like the trees swaying slowly: Kip was slow and mostly deliberate with his motions. 

“Sunjata,” he greeted, carefully searching his provisions and deciding just how much he’d have to split up. A small sigh–he’d brought his good cheese, but he supposed there were worse critters he could be sharing with. His gaze cascaded past the other, catching the other trying to bundle up in such cold weather.

“I dare not say things are calm–there is much more light left in this day.” Glancing the stones as if to gesture to whatever spirits might be lurking about. Even when it was quiet and everything seemed still, Kipper felt the others in his presence, always there, like a small grain of sand in the bottom of his shoe.

“How are things for you?”

relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction

Sunjata had never really been one to find himself close to the spirits. Too worried about what kinds of unrest might strike from histories he had hands in – too nervous about the reactions of those he’d lost that he made lanterns for and carried them around as ghosts in his heart everywhere he went. So as Kipper greets him and gestures to the potential spirits lurking about, Sunjata nods. He supposes it was up to Kipper and Mort at the end of the day.

And besides, Sunjata had always been more of Freys nature – fun, impulsivity, enjoying life rather than the rest of it. But, happy that things are relatively fine for the moment at least, he shoots him a lopsided smile as he approaches a bit closer for the ease of conversation. The scar that cuts through his cheek is gnarled and warped and affects some of the muscle tissue there, though the Heartless hardly seems to notice it these days in his lopsided smiles. “Things are good. We’re almost done with the healing river, then things should kind of even out. Shouldn’t need to dig up anything close to the graves for the near future.” Luckily in trenching out where the river would go, they’d managed to avoid the vast majority of the graves with spirits still attracted to them.

“Hoping it warms up soon, though.” He admits, looking away from Kip to the Barrows around them and the frost still clinging to them, sparkling in the light of the day.

the heartless

waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes

totally sniped from odd ilu

Kipper

News of the nearing completion with the healing river brought an appreciative nod out, a notable relief for one of the Barrows caretakers. Kip would not offer words to verbalize this appreciation, but his expression hopefully carried appropriate sentiment. Anything that meant the preservation of the graves was a good thing, and it certainly made his work easier.

Sunjata looked away, observing the sleeping landscapes, offering the hybrid time to piece out his meal, shoving bits of poorly sliced meat and hearty cheese onto some bread, folding it up, and ripping it in two before offering half to the other. 
Truly the greatest token of appreciation or friendship Kip could give was by offering to share a meal. 

“Aye,” Kip chirped in agreement, feeling the dull aching chill along his toes and fingers. “I’ve been finding myself thinking the same, but that’s not up to me,” he admitted, like controlling the weather was something Sunjata expected of him. 

Surely not, Kip was not a creature of that strength of magic.

A pause. 

“Sunjata… is… everything alright?” Lifting his gaze to meet the other, a small puzzled look creasing his forehead. Had something happened in the surrounding area–some emergency? Or was this a mere social call. 

Clearly Kip was not used to regular visitors.

relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction

A touch surprised to see the offer of food – he knows the Caretaker well enough by now to see it more as an honor he’s willing to share it, regardless of whether or not Sunjata’s hungry. So the Archon takes it, his smile easy as he dips his head a little in quiet thanks. Nibbling at it, he hadn’t quite realized how hungry he actually was, reminded that flying from the House of Midnight to New Haven wasn’t a short, not taxing trip.

“Wish it was up to me, though all I can do is make it rain.” His nose scrunches a little with the thought, because as he takes in the frosty surroundings, rain seemed like the very last thing the region needed. And knowing his luck, it was likely to just freeze and make everyone’s day worse. So he keeps his water magic tucked neatly away, alongside his shifts for the time being, looking back to the Caretaker when the question comes.

Surprise paints his face for a moment, a flicker of light flashing through his scars on display in a quiet rapid reaction of his passive magic. For a second, he tries to think if there’s something that had happened that he may have missed. But it’s there and gone in an instant and the smile returns to his face. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Kip. At least on my end.” He hopes it’s reassuring, shooting the man a warmer smile. “Just saw you as I was passing by and wanted to see how things were.” So it was social more than anything. Hopefully that’s a relief for the Caretaker.

the heartless

waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes

totally sniped from odd ilu