Isgerd's Loft

Rutgard had followed her from the hall, half out of curiosity and half out of the kindness she had done by leaving before him. Her guiding him would certainly be an interesting affair if she remained so for the rest of their journey. He kept only a half step behind her outside of the hall itself staying by her side then so if she turned she would not trip upon him. A man born to lead or follow he had no true preference other than the safety of his comrades and now that included the wayfinder who so confidently asked him back to her home in order to show him the very skills she possessed. He wondered what other skills rested beneath those dark furs as he had agreed to come with her with a short nod inside.

Heading up towards the attic her advice was well taken but noted well before they reached the top of the stairs. A man of his height had knocked his head once or twice before and he really couldn’t afford another bump. His memory was beginning to be shot to death as it was. One hand placed on the frame as he entered it graced the top in order to judge the rest of the room as he passed through. Once established he bent slightly. Stooping was not his favorite past time but at times was necessary. His gaze remained upon Isgerd’s face as she turned inviting him to sit alongside her. He did not hesitate to do so crossing the room rather awkwardly with his bent back and long legs but once he was seated he spread them allowing his elbows to rest on his thighs as he leaned slightly forward to look and observe the girl, and the room. Cozy one might have called it, and he enjoyed the sort of insight into her world. It seemed she did not require much in terms of space but collected much in terms of oddities. He saw a few feathers that he recognized but he did not have long to wonder at her small marvels as she herself was beside him and speaking.

His knee gently bumped her thigh and he moved his right arm, for he sat seated on her left, bringing it back behind him in order to prop him slightly as he watched. He understood what she spoke of in a sense but it was only imagined in his mind and for some reason it was a sparkling gold light in color like fairy dust. It amused him to think that was what they would follow and a slow languid smile came to his face, “I see the concept,” he informed her when she finished. There was a simple enjoyment in hearing her speak for her voice had been soothing. It had been some time since he had heard of such concepts much less spoke of by a woman of Vikhafen. It was refreshing to be home.

Her musing weren’t ignored, there were several comments that could have came across his lips, none of them terribly appropriate. He had the distinct feeling that Isgerd might have appreciated them more than most woman but he settled for a simple, “On those cold nights I’ve heard no complaints.”

Being handed an item he’d moved his palm up to accept it slipping back into a sitting position. It rested easily in the palm of his hand and though the carving was quite small it was intricate enough that he raised a brow at the sight of it. Was she attempting to play a game with him or was she serious? Wayfinders weren’t generally known for their sense of humor as their sight was difficult. It required a concentration that even he felt he may not have fully had.

Dropping it between his thumb and pointer finger he held it up listening and glancing back at her as she spoke. She wished to give him a demonstration and the idea was entertaining so he agreed, “It shall still be worth the effort I think to see you perform.”

She sat upon the windowsill a sweet voice drifting off into the world below them. It was distracting almost as he wished to simply listen and be lost in a different sort of beauty than he had seen in her face. Still she had issued a challenge and he was not one to take such a thing lightly. He did not know much of Wayfinders but he doubted that he would be able to hide it so she could not find the item. Especially within a room she knew so well. If he moved anything she would know it. He took to lifting a few of her Knick nacks taking the time to shift them slightly as if he had attempted to hide it there. Then he dropped it within his own pocket walking back to the center of the room looking at her back and waiting on her to finish her song now fully able to enjoy it.

Her teasing might have gotten a rise out of a lesser man, one who might have been bashful in such things but he rather enjoyed her tone and the very nature of the words that she spoke to him, “Perhaps,” it was as if he were uttering a promise for in that word was formed with every intention of following it through the word only a gesture of modesty following suit with how he was taught to treat a woman. Assuming was not in his nature but speculating very much so was and he was uncertain if she fully meant those words or was just teasing, therefore he was going to tease in return.

Listening to her sing he enjoyed the lulling sound but soon enough he had to tell her that he was finished and he waited as he hopped off the sill and passed to the fire. Truly curious as to her next steps he follow and remained but a few steps behind. Interrupting a weaver of whatever art was practiced was considered rude and he wished to see but not interrupt the process itself.

“By all means,” she could take as long as she needed. Patient he remained in one place never moving or fidgeting. There were long nights awaiting battle and he found wasting energy to be frankly wasteful and he was well practiced at locking himself into place. She rose and stood before him with no hesitation reaching downward to feel the bead resting within his pocket. A rather precarious place he thought to himself for if her hand were to slip slightly farther over, “As much as I would like the latter we’ve only just met.”

It wasn’t a real reason to refuse the offer but he was more amused than anything else at the moment so he would remove it himself holding it out lightly. “One of my belongings,” he was not puzzled anymore but definitely curious as to her locating something else, “Shall you settle upon the sill again while I find something suitable?”

He had no intention of trespassing in her home by looking within all the nooks and crannies of it nor stealing anything. It was not his way, he may have been brash with other men but he became sweet as honey around women choosing to admonish upon them gifts instead of taking them away. Therefore he would have no issue in being left in the loft on his own several thoughts coming to mind about where he could hide multiple things. Before he was left alone though he was amused by her sighing, his hand turned when she took the bead gracing the bottom of her soft skin as he released it allowing her to replace it upon the mantle. “I look forward to your return then, so you might find your way.”

The way he spoke it was with such intention it could hardly be missed, he feared over stepping boundaries but he felt then with Isgerd the carnal want that accompanied much of his encounters. She was a wayfinder, wild and free, and he had no issue toying with the gods and fate when it came to accepting that which was placed in his lap so to speak.

His axe along his side he dropped it by the door the head down and the handle upright resting there. He would not need such a weapon and he had to find something suitable that was smaller after all. Glancing about the room he carried naught upon him that was so light and so misguiding as a feather within his pocket. A small thing it was of black with thin tendrils along the line of it and he would often place it in his hair before ceremonies. It belonged to a rather odd bird he had once encountered that plucked the feather and insistently gave it to him. He kept it for the memory of the bird itself who had led him to shelter in a storm.

Twiddling it between his thumb and forefinger the whistling of air around it was a familiar comforting sound to his ears, barely audible unless one focused. Glancing about the room there was not a space that she would not know, therefore he settled on placing it out of reach. Finding the tallest shelf and hiding it between the pages of a book and replacing it without disturbing the dust upon the shelf itself. Then he waited settling himself on the edge of her bed relaxed backwards.

He was unaware of the complicated nature of items given by another, he had claimed the feather as a gift but it once belonging to another he might believe there was some lingering scent. Unaware fully of how way finding worked he could not rightfully admit that it had been a ploy to spark her curiosity or throw off the trail. He did not mention it when she approached him after finding the lone feather that had been slipped inside the pages. It was a sign of another showing him the way just as Isgerd was destined to do. Perhaps that was why it had came to his mind when she asked of him to hide something, his mind while she had been searching was on the curve of her backside and the sultry way she moved and how her body stretched when she reached upwards.

Isgerd settling in next to him in the bed she kept the feather in a tight-fisted hand as he knew she was not quite ready to allow it to leave her guard. “A black robin,” he said, “I suspected it was never just a bird for the longest time but when I was in great need and lost in a land not our own it came to me. A small little bird that sung in the trees, not so close to as sweetly as you, but with an insistence. Damned thing would not stop swooping at my head until I realized what it wanted. It led me to the main road. It dropped the feather afterwards.”

No explanation behind the feather other than a reminder. He would never know it was from a young girl that he himself had rescued but a few weeks before from a caravan of traders who had been attempting to steal her on a water run. Slavery still existed and children required much less food, were easier to transport, and sold well for their lives were before them for servitude.