It had been some time since Viðarr had assembled his bracers, the little jet points beginning to wear in their settings within the leather. The passage of time... how strange. How strange it all was, the viking considered. So much time, and so little, all at once. He longed for the company of his sisters, of his family. Too much time, and they'd all wandered on. Too much time. A cold knot in the pit of his stomach had formed not so long ago. He'd need to follow them soon. It had been family above all, and now he was the only one (as far as he knew), left. A disservice to leave them without someone to look after them, to protect them. As soon as all the loose ends were tied up, he'd go on after them. Viðarr had made up his mind.

But there were still loose ends. But he was still here. But, but, but, the nagging voice in his head. He'd set camp for tonight within the Stone Steppe, carefully settling in. His companions were all within shouting distance, and he'd managed to get food down for the dogs. A fire was lit, and he'd use the heat from that to boil off some water. The fittings around the stones in his gauntlets needed to be repaired, and to do that, he'd need the hot water. Carefully, the shadow unrolled a bit of leather with sticky pine resin within it. Between the two materials, he should be able to get himself sorted out, and have his bracers fully functional again in no time.

"Viðarr"

Aryn had bared her soul to the kindly looking statue in Auster and had made quick work of returning to Boreas so she would not be labeled a runaway by Habari's leadership. She felt somehow emptier without her rock, even though the thing was simply a stone with no special qualities or meaning. It had been a stepping stone to improving her skill of fighting, she'd bashed one or two wolves on the head with it, and now it was gone and time to find a replacement. Aryn tried to be a realist about it all, but still there was that tiny empty spot in her chest where her rock weapon had once fit.

The stone steppe had been a free area for wolves of all kinds to roam with the festival fully in swing. Recluse couldn't even punish her for lingering here, not when she'd always been granted leave to attend parties and events. Aryn went in search of a quiet corner to do her new craft in, carrying with her a borrowed rucksack of leather, string, and replacement rocks. A weighed bracer, she'd decided, would be an appropriate replacement weapon but one that did not require her to re-learn her entire way of fighting.

So lost in her thought was she that Aryn nearly stepped over the busy man and might even have touched a toe upon his work, her ears slicking back and a heat coming to her cheek in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I should watch where I'm going." The Valentine woman murmured, taking a step back. "If I broke something, I can help you to fix it." She assured him softly.

The dogs saw her long before Viðarr did, carefully bristling from their hiding spots in the shadows. He knew that there was more activity in these parts than usual, with the festivities and all. Frankly, that's why he'd taken up here. The hustle of it all, though he was on the outskirts. Maybe he missed having company. The shadow liked a party, after all. This was different. This felt different. Still, the intrusion isn't all together unwelcome. He wouldn't have to be alone with his thoughts. He wouldn't need to be lost in his own head. There was someone else here, and the shadow wouldn't be left to wonder and worry about the fate of every soul he'd ever loved, and every soul single gods forsaken soul that was lost to him now. Right. None of that. However briefly, there was company in his midst.

How she'd managed to miss him was a bit beyond Viðarr, but he didn't mind nearly as much as he could have. More lonesome than usual, but at least there wasn't malice in him. Silvery blue gaze set upon the stranger, peering towards her curiously. "No more broken than they were already," an easy, comfortable smile spread across his features. His grasp on the common tongue was still shaky, but Viðarr was doing his best. Where his words fell short, he could only hope that his tone and his body language could make up for it. Carefully, he wiped the dirt from the leather, inspecting for any additional damage... not that he would have really noticed if there was any. The bracers were well-loved and well used, as it stood.

"Your foot, is it okay? These are sharp," concern comes, now, realizing that the strange woman could have also hurt herself in the process. Concerned that he'd inadvertently harmed her in the process of his repairs, yes. Still, he was also in the middle of his chores. The shadow could multi task, probably. Viðarr rose to his feet to check on the water beside the fire, looking to see if bubbles were rising to the surface. As soon as it began to boil, he'd be able to set about with his repairs.

"Viðarr"

Total WC: 912

The man was kind, something Aryn was exceedingly grateful for as it seemed as far as strangers went, Aryn always stumbled upon the cruelest of them. She returned the smile with a soft one of her own - still sheepish - and shook her head at his concern. "I must have missed the sharp spot." She assured him, watching as he stood and went to tend to his fire. "Do you mind if I join you? I've not worked with leather before, it would be helpful to have someone knowledgeable around to advise me." Truthfully Aryn had hardly worked with anything prior, her only experience crafting accessories offensive or not being the rock she had bashed until it cracked and made a point. Now that she had improved however, she had hoped she could find a way to use the stones to weigh down the leather.

Taking a seat beside his work station, Aryn began to pull out materials of her own. Two strips of leather were placed together and she began to eye them from all angles, imagining how she might be able to work this through. In the end she decided upon sewing with the string three of the four sides so the leather might form a long rectangular bag of sorts, then she could drop in her pebbles and sew the last. How to get them to stay upon her legs once that was done she did not know, but it was a question for later, when (if) she ever got there. "Your bracers, what broke them?" She asked conversationally, tilting her head to observe the well worn leather.

Total Word Count: 1182

She wasn't moving on from the spot, and for that... truthfully, Viðarr was grateful. He wouldn't need to be alone. Though the company was that of a stranger, it didn't matter. None of that mattered. He wasn't alone. "Come, sit," he agrees, the smile not fading from his face. It's not too overwhelming, something he's conscious of-- wouldn't want to come off disingenuous or creepy. No, the shadow does his best to convey warmth, to bring comfort. He was as he would always be, after all.

"What are you making?" The question was conversational, curious. Though he was a man of few words, he'd let the curiosity get the best of him. Her sewing was more intricate than anything his clumsy paws could come up with, and it was interesting to watch. Satisfied with the water boiling, Viðarr removed the vessel from the heat and added one of his damaged bracers. With a stick, he pushed it down until it was all the way under. The leather itself was thick and dense, and it would take some time before the garment was fully soaked. Still, it seemed that he had nothing but time this evening.

"Ah, just time. Where the little points live has stretched," Viðarr indicated the bracer that wasn't currently soaking, showing the little grey wolf where each of the jet points was situated. Some were worse than others, but the leather settings had become worn over time. "I will shrink the leather, and add more adhesive if it needs," his plan was... well, it was likely functional. Really, the shadow didn't want to have to make new ones from scratch. Maybe he was a bit attached to this pair, and maybe it was more than a little bit of a headache to make a new pair from scratch. Something like that. He returned to the fire, stirring the vessel with the bracer inside once more. It would need to be fully saturated if this was to work.

"Viðarr"

WC: 1518

It was easier to work alongside another, like the company was able to distract her mind enough to keep her from over-obsessing on her work and making sure everything was done perfectly. In truth, she did not expect this weapon to be that much better than her last. Each craft would improve her skills more (or so Aryn was told) and even if her weapon fell apart after a small handful of battles, she would consider it to be a success. "I'm working on a bracer, but a weighted one. I'm quiet small and against all these dires of this world I find something with a little heft does help." It even felt odd to talk about, as Aryn still shied away from combat itself except where absolutely necessary. There was very little essence of brutality in the girl's soft heart.

Talking of shrinking the leather did make sense, especially if the accessory was well worn. She looked down at her own work, wondering if she would need to do the same to make it fit her limbs. Next was to place the rocks inside the pocket she had made and to sew them back up properly, an art she had gotten quite used to after the animal husbandry crafts she had completed to spoil her chickens and her bees. "What sort of adhesive do you use?" Aryn asked after a moment. She had considered just lacing it with string, but perhaps there was a better way.