Are
The optimism was admirable, truly so, but he couldn't help but to scratch his head under the fur-lined hat. A small head shake of disbelief at it all, a life plucked from a world now long gone. A flame snuffed out by the whim of gods much greater than anything they could even imagine, at least far greater than what the meager expanses of the cobbler's imagination could conjure.
"Yes, we we're making a break for it, but rough seas and a good solid piece of spruce right between the eyes sealed my fate. Last I remember is my lungs filling up with icy lakewater." he said, voice growing dark as he retold his last memories of Midgård. A slowly fading sky and a sodden tunic dragging him down the abode of the dead. He consciously left out what had him most bothered, there was a time and place for everything, but she deserved more respect than as a twist to a story of a bad nightmare.
"But in the end it was all for the better." he then added, the spring in his verbal step returning. "Even the dead needs shoes, and a lot of them! Good on the gods for picking an industrious cobbler." Are laughed at his own silly joke, to think the gods had anything in mind for him beyond what little he made for himself was just unthinkable. Well, it had been until the Voice made her intentions clear.
Intentions that, upon remembering them, awoke a thought. "Say, what is it you do?" he asked, eyebrow cocked.
"Yes, we we're making a break for it, but rough seas and a good solid piece of spruce right between the eyes sealed my fate. Last I remember is my lungs filling up with icy lakewater." he said, voice growing dark as he retold his last memories of Midgård. A slowly fading sky and a sodden tunic dragging him down the abode of the dead. He consciously left out what had him most bothered, there was a time and place for everything, but she deserved more respect than as a twist to a story of a bad nightmare.
"But in the end it was all for the better." he then added, the spring in his verbal step returning. "Even the dead needs shoes, and a lot of them! Good on the gods for picking an industrious cobbler." Are laughed at his own silly joke, to think the gods had anything in mind for him beyond what little he made for himself was just unthinkable. Well, it had been until the Voice made her intentions clear.
Intentions that, upon remembering them, awoke a thought. "Say, what is it you do?" he asked, eyebrow cocked.
