The losses had stacked up around him, and Víðarr was tiring. Death is as much a part of life as birth, as anything else, but it still wares on the shadow. Fuck. Imagine feeling so old, his shoulders and back aching as the mornings came colder, the evenings came sooner. Autumn again. There was much to do, much to prepare-- dwelling on shit wouldn't do him any good.
It was Strai, that he beckoned for, to help in refreshing the space they used to greet the guests. While Víðarr and Steig had made good progress the previous day, he needed a little more muscle this time around. Dragging the heavy table out so they could scrub both the table and the floors, so they could put new skins down on the floors-- a necessary evil. Keep busy, keep his head down, keep moving forward. That's all he can do, right?
Maybe it was time to check in with the young man, too. They were all growing up so quickly, and time marched on.
This character is unstable. Blanket TW for mental health themes applies to all posts.
Víðarr has two Karelian bear dogs and a white morph tawny owl. Assume they're within calling distance unless otherwise stated.
Víðarr speaks with a dense Swedish accent.
Cooperative
![[Image: bfcOTDt.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bfcOTDt.png)
