Water into Wine, Cave into Home

[Liev Morozov]

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Yadda yadda yadda OOC rant Blergh 8P

A month. It was a lot, but he had used that month well. When Theodore left him on his room and almost ran off, he barely felt at home. It was just a big hole in stone and dirt. Like many of the burrows his own pack did underground, to hide from the blizzards. Just that they were much, much colder and wet with the ice melting lightly.

But now, looking around, it actually remembered of the occupied burrows. He did his best not to make it too close from his own, since he was trying to start over.

On the entrance, he had placed a huge polar bear pelt he had been using as a cloth for his tents in order to make a curtine. It was very worn out, but still useful. With some sticks and branches, and some wires, he pulled out a hanger, to plae his coats and his belt. In the walls, he dug some spaces to place his books and gears. In the farthest corner of the den, there was an empty space, which he placed his bed in. It was just a mattress made with multiple pelts stitched together and stuffed with wool, hay and dry leaves. The pillow was made in the same way, and the blankets were thick pelts of bears, stitched in layers to make it thicker. In order to separate his "bedroom" from the rest of the den, he braided sereval straps of leather, cloth and branches to make a thick veil, in a style known as "hippie curtains", falling down vertically from the roof and down to the floor. Through the entirety of the burrows, there were tables made from fallen logs and chairs made of tree stomps. In some tables, were alchemic materials and utensiles. In others, witchcraft itens, such as potions, statues and spices. One, even, held many maps and instruments of navigation. In one, however, was such a leather piece and surrounded with 4 stomps. A meeting table, for visits. Not for work. In the end of the hall, between the entrance to his bedroom and the rest, he dug up a small hole and placed some rock in an ordely manner - in order to support food, caldrons or whatever - surrounding the hole, in which he filled with some dry wood. Maybe this would turn into a fire. Maybe not. The tiny crack above said place was too small to let out all the smoke, but he'd deal with that later, if even possible.

All in all, it looked quite warm and welcoming.

He sighed in relief to be finally done, and sat down in one of the stomps, letting his weight fall from his back to the table behind him. All that work had tired him, in the very least. He wished so badly to have a nap, but knew better than that. He wasn't a greedy, laid-back guy. Much in the contrary! He hadn't reached the title of Captain for sitting back and letting others do his work. Which reminded him he had duties on his new home. Once hwe had finally settled down, there was no reason to delay said duties any further. In fact, working a bit might actually put the Russian back on his tracks.

Before leaving his room, he looked around again, and pictured all the possible things that might happen there. Cooking food on the fire, working on his reseaches, bringing over some friends for supper, reading his books... So many sceneries, and all of them looked much real than all of his memories back at Czarova, his old pack. How?

Well, maybe he had never been truly happy there, after all. Maybe... General Winter was right all along. he belonged here, and here only.

A happy, glad sigh escaped his lips before waving off a space through his leather "door" and into the dark tunnels. Most were still empty, but he knew he wasn't the only one there either. Would anyone be in the Common Room? He shrugged, and took his way through the dark stone halls to the great hollow not far from there.