The sun beat down relentlessly above the frozen tundra of his home. While the southerners knew the warmth and desire of the sun, the Halovians could not always recognize it as a good thing. It was blinding, harsh, and cruel. Like everything here. The sun -- though not welcome by the hunter -- must even feel at home among the frozen land with frozen people. Without the prospect of a hunt on this day, Noah resigned himself to find the company of others. The man did not always seek this out. He was generally reserved, and introverted, but he had decided it good today to seek company. He could not remember the last day he had talked with anyone aside from Ezekiel, and even the man who preferred the company of few recognized this to be unhealthy.
The tavern always had people. Whether or not they were the people one would want to converse with was always questionable, but the undeniable fact of warm bodies called to the blond man. He moved through the threshold with ease. The door creaked at his entrance and a few weary eyes -- Halovian eyes -- lifted to greet him. Simple nods followed, a few gentle smiles and raising of glasses here and there made a sense of familiarity warm over the man's chest. His blue eyes traveled over the crowd in the bar, quite full even for midday. He knew some of these people to essentially live in this tavern, drowning whatever life they had in the tundra down with liquor. Seeing those that chose this made his face soften, and frown. As his eyes adjusted to the change in light, he lowered the hood of his head and shook out the cold from his fingers.
Still armed with the frown and familiarity, Noah made his way toward the bar. Finding a seat he settled in and turned his head briefly toward the bartender. It was a wordless transaction, but in mere seconds Noah had an ale before him. "Weaver," Noah said after taking a drink, turning to the familiar girl he had not initially made intentional notice of before taking his drink, "How are you faring?"
Those who knew Noah Olson knew he was not a master wordsmith, and with this woman he had known most of his life, he did not try to pretend. He lifted a brow, raising his eyes to her's, a gentle smile pulling at his bearded face.
