everywhere just lonely places

Björn's gaze is steady and unflinching. He's simply an observer here, getting a better lay of the land. Good vantage points? They're the key to his puzzle. Bred, born, and raised to the mountains, this is no unusual task for him. There's comfort in this, the watching. If he watches, if he knows, then there's nothing that can sneak up on him. Nothing that will take him by surprise, and nothing that will prevent him from the task at hand.

At least it's a relatively relaxed task. Listening to the roar of the waterfall hitting the pool at the bottom, taking in the bird song, trying to sort out exactly what lived at this elevation. Fresh air in his lungs did the boy good. Everything smells like the coniferous trees, the water, the summer sun.

Björn wouldn't be alone for long, though. Another man scrambled up the cliff, carefully enough to not wreck his own shit. Not entirely a stranger, though he hadn't caught the man's name the last time they'd met. The rot prince had been younger then, hell... he'd had a future then. Now? At least it's the same, steady grey gaze, settling on the man. "Mind the moss, it's slick." A warning given with the same casual tone he's taken to keeping, at least when he's not preaching.

"Björn"