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Ethereal Eclipse. Rambly post~ :x wc:516
Making a quick trip out of the Dreamer’s territory for some of his supplies had seemed like a good idea at first, mainly because that’s what he thought it would be—just a quick trip. It seemed that the Marino had forgotten just how far out into the forest the run down old cabin had been. He was beginning to think that this had been a completely foolish idea. His wounds hadn’t been all that kind to him lately, and it was for that reason that the Italian man stuck close to home of late. He would venture out to the borders at times and get in some weary and exhausted patrols, because he just wouldn’t let himself stay still despite his wounded state. His upper right arm was bandaged tightly where the psychotic warrior’s blade had done its damage, but it was healing without much trouble. His chest, on the other hand, was proving to be quite bothersome. The constant pain in his ribs was doing its best to make moving about, and at times even breathing, difficult for him. He still had the large cloth bandage wrapped around his chest, for what little good it did him.
But because he knew that he needed to take it easy for the time being, he needed to find something to occupy his downtime. He wanted to begin working on small woodcarving projects again, but he realized that he’d left some of his good, intricate tools behind at the old cabin in the woods like an idiot. So the impatient Dreamer pushed further past their territory than he had in days after lingering at the northern edge of their border during a patrol. Ehno had thought that it would be a quick trip and back from the cabin, but his wounds forced him to take a leisurely pace. He carried his spear with him as he traveled, both for support and for use in case any of Maska’s lingering forces may have been nearby. As each day passed, the Dreamer felt more secure in the safety that the end of the war had afforded them, but he was still on edge. He may not have been proficient with the weapon, but it would give him reach, which was an advantage he desperately needed in his wounded state.
Luckily for the Marino, he managed to arrive at the old cabin with little incidence. He sighed in relief as the broken structure came into view. It was an old log cabin with a small, attached stable nestled in a quiet clearing in the forest. Half of the cabin’s roof had collapsed inward, a result of the terrible snowstorms they had endured the previous winter. The carpenter liked to come there for inspiration for his projects and, at times, to scavenge some of the useful wood. The last time he was here, he’d accidently forgotten the bag containing his carving tools on a shelf in one of the rooms that had survived the blizzard. He approached the old building, hoping nobody had made away with his tools in the meantime.