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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 17, 2014 1:25:19 GMT -8
Well, fuck.
That was about the only way that he could describe his situation. Nothing had gone well for Bern since he’d left the area around Norway, where he’d previously been living. Well, more accurately, nothing had gone well shortly after he’d gotten into Britain. Granted, he hadn’t expected life to cater to him. He hadn’t even back in his hometown, but things hadn’t worked out so well for him there, either. Maybe he’d return home someday, but he’d left for a damn good reason. He had his problems with how things were back home and all, but he’d decided he really wanted to go somewhere else. To start a new life where he wouldn’t have the same kinds of concerns. Concerns that he shouldn’t have had to deal with in the first place. Well, he’d fucked up. People made mistakes. Unfortunately, when one lived in such a small community, mistakes changed your whole reputation.
Bern had left before things got worse. Honestly, it had only been suspicion. It wasn’t like he’d been outright caught in the act… He’d gotten away with doing what he did plenty of times before, but he did it for a reason. Well, it had started out as a reason, he supposed. Then before he knew it, it was just a test to him, it was pressing to see just how much he could get away with. And he’d crossed the line, just barely, and he didn’t exactly know how to solve his problems, and it wasn’t like he had much to leave behind… so he left.
Okay, so he was a thief. That didn’t make him a bad person, necessarily. He just started out doing this to keep himself alive. He was steaiing food and little more. But he supposed it had given way to other things, hadn’t it? He’d done some things he almost regretted in the process. He’d had to shut people up. And with that came some moving around, too. Before long, he’d stolen more important things; more than just food. Money, valuable possessions… Hell, one of the first things he’d done when he arrived in England was steal a horse. But this was a necessity to him, too. He needed a way to travel, and traveling by foot the whole time wasn’t going to cut it. He knew England wasn’t particularly huge, but that didn’t change anything; he still needed a horse to get around at any kind of decent pace. But everything had gone downhill since then. The horse had spooked and thrown him, and it ran away with half the things he’d brought with him. Thankfully it was mostly food that he’d been keeping in the saddle bag. He still had a meager amount of money and food, as well as some tools and other odds and ends. But he was still pissed about it. And what was worse was that as soon as he got up from being thrown, he realized his left leg was hurt. Not to mention his shoulder on the same side. This was just fucking great.
It was late, past nightfall when he arrived in the nearest city, on the path he’d been following. He was exhausted and in much worse pain than before; it turned out that exacerbating the stress on his body wasn’t doing anything to help him. As if this ever would have been the case, right? But here he was in the town, now. He could get a room at the inn and tavern for the night with what small amount of money he had. Maybe even buy a warm meal. At this point, he truly needed it.
But it turned out the damned inn was full… He groaned. Maybe he could find a safe place, at least to stay the night. He could eat some of his provisions instead. He started walking out toward the outside of town, figuring that if there was anyplace safe enough from people… well, people like him, but worse, like the kind of person who would steal from someone as ill off as him… it was probably the very outskirts of town. He might be able to find a secluded place to sleep off the night, and hopefully the pain from taking that fall.
But just as he started off, the sky, which had spent some time gathering into an ominous swirl of clouds under the cover of darkness, opened up above him. It was like adding insult to injury. No, actually… it was. And while it didn’t take any time for him to get soaked, it didn’t change his mind about wanting a safe place. There was no way he’d be able to rest in the rain, and he didn’t want to be idle any longer than he had to. Being out in the wilderness would be stupid when he was this tired, hurt, and miserable… he’d just be an easy target for any local predators, no different than a sick or wounded deer. Just a lot slower. So, he dragged himself down the streets, trying to find a place that felt promising to him. At this point, all he could do was ask for lodging, perhaps offer some money… He didn’t know what to do, but he had to try.
He hadn’t realized that he was actually back behind the tavern when he stopped, feeling like this inn-like row of back doors might have housed someone who had an extra room they could spare for the night. Or something. He stepped closer, hesitating before knocking on the first door.
When the person who was inside opened up the door, probably having not expected anyone to knock in the first place, they’d find a Norwegian. That alone was probably startling. He was definitely a Norwegian, with awfully pale blonde hair, and light colored eyes. He was barely wearing enough clothing to keep him warm in this climate as it was, and was currently shivering in the pouring rain, soaking wet. He looked exhausted, like he could collapse at any second… He was hurting, but he tried to stand as straight and upright as was possible, though his pain might have been obvious to someone if they looked at him more carefully. And he had a bag, but only one, which suggested that he had to be a traveler… probably one that didn’t have awfully much in the first place.
When the door opened, which he almost hadn’t expected, he seemed to try to offer more attention to the other, though it appeared visibly difficult, given his condition. “…Greetings, I am… a traveler, seeking… lodging…” Huh. His English was rustier than he remembered… It was either that, or he was just slurring his words too much because of how tired he was. “I don’t have much to offer, but…” He had to pause just to take a breath, this time. “…We’ll work something out.” His conversation had really devolved into something casual quickly. He was almost certain that the other would just close the door in his face. He’d probably just move on down the line, and regardless of his efforts, probably end up having to curl up in a back alley and try to rest anyway. That was the kind of luck he’d had so far in England, wasn’t it?
"Knulle meg med en rusten skje..." he murmured under his breath.
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 17, 2014 10:47:53 GMT -8
Wess had been playing, the same night; tapping the strings of his dulcimer with little wooden hammers for a couple of hours in the tavern's main room, as he did almost every night of the week, in order to earn the grubby little room in the back he was allowed to call his and the almost-not-too-bad two meals a day he was given by the tavern, not to mention a meager amount of pocket change. Usually, playing his instrument cleared his mind and relaxed him, the music a sort of escape from those around him and a time to be his own self, to think thoughts that his very survival didn't rely on, but that particular night had been... stressful.
Wess could stand, usually, the small groups of rowdy drunks that came into the tavern around the time that he played. He could handle their vulgar comments on his thin hands and delicate features, and he could tune out the hungry purrs when a waitress or another man's wife walked by, and he could blatantly ignore their loud, slurred drinking songs. It was normal in any tavern in this part of town, and he'd dealt with it plenty of times before; especially on these nights, the nights before Sunday, when no one had to work the next day. But sometimes, he... really wasn't up to it. His back had been hurting more than usual lately, and this that came a generally sour mood. The rain didn't help, either... all of that soreness and dampness, and it made him think more about his body, the discomfort of it, the way it didn't fit... so the comments about his femininity only served to make him more upset, and the loud singing over his own playing? It was almost too much to handle. It was insult after insult after actual fucking injury, and he was tired, and angry, and he wanted to get off the stage and get something warm in his belly, maybe even some drink, and sleep.
And that was exactly what he did, as soon as his gig was up. When he heard a knock on his door he was asleep, and he had been for only a half hour. Wess wasn't really used to people knocking on his door at all, aside from the odd beggar seeking some kind of money, food, or shelter, so when he woke up to the loud knocking, he dragged himself out of his bed and stumbled to the door to answer it, on hand pressed flat against his spine in an attempt to ease the pain a little. And he thanked God, too, that he hadn't unwrapped the cloth binding his breasts before going to bed.
Wess cracked the door and tried to get a decent focus on the knocker, who didn't seem to be a beggar... he couldn't see very well, with everything so dark, but he could tell it was a man, and he could tell he was struggling to stand upright and straight... a cripple? Or was he in pain? Wess frowned at him, putting a bit of pressure on his spine while he tried to stand up straighter himself. The accent... he was Norwegian, wasn't he? He couldn't tell in this nearly complete lack of light, but the dim firelight from his fireplace seemed to be dancing on some very pale hair. And the words he mumbled... he was definitely Norwegian.
That sparked some anger in Wess. The whole country had been under sporadic attack from Norwegians for a long time, and... well, not this part specifically, but there was still a lot of unease about them, a lot of anger. And his father! Wess's father had gone to fight for their king, and he'd died, died under the blade (or blunt object, maybe a rock... who knew!) of a viking. A fucking Norwegian. And now one had dragged himself to Wess's door like a stray cat, seeking shelter?! And for what? He said he didn't even have anything to offer!
Wess almost shut the door on him then, without a word, but he could tell the man was in pain. He definitely could... and not only that, but what if he had some kind of weapon on him? A Norwegian... he probably did. Almost everyone did. And Wess wasn't keen on the idea of getting more hurt tonight.
So maybe Wess was a bit less cold-hearted than he acted like he was, or maybe he was afraid, or a little drunk, or... perhaps a combination of the three. But he sighed, nodded tiredly, and stood aside so that Bern could come into his room.
"You may sleep on the floor." He told the foreigner, gesturing to a small, worn carpet in front of the fireplace. Honestly, that was probably better than this traveler had seen in a while, judging from his clothes and single sack and very obvious lack of money... but he grabbed a thin, unused blanket off the floor at the foot of his bed anyway, and tossed that to the man as well with a yawn. He was tense, still... relaxed a bit by his alcohol (which Bern might be able to see in the slight flush of his cheeks), and by his own exhaustion, but tense. This was a Norwegian. He was letting a Norwegian sleep on his floor, in front of his fireplace... and perhaps he understood that this man himself hadn't killed his father eighteen years ago, but that changed very little. He didn't trust him. More than anything, Wess just wanted to be done with this so he could sleep.
"I suppose you need not pay me more than what you can spare, but... we will work that out in the morning." He decided, crawling back onto his bed and then stretching out under his sheets, grimacing at the pain in his back that resulted from the change in position and weight distribution. And despite his distrust, Wess was asleep a moment later with a heavy sigh.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 17, 2014 12:59:41 GMT -8
It was doubtless that Wess wouldn't have been anticipating his arrival. Not when he hadn't anticipated having to come here, himself... How could an inn of that size have been full? Was there some kind of festival in town or some shit like that? He didn't know. And it probably didn't matter, but he would find out more about that later. He'd put that behind him for now, and arrived at this young man's doorstep.
Speaking of young man, he seemed pretty attractive, as Bern looked over him with weary, somewhat blurred vision. He was easy on the eyes. Probably about his age, really, and plenty attractive at that. Bern admired him, at least with what his dog-tired mind could muster at this point. It wasn't the kind of admiring that Wess probably resented from the drunkards at the tavern, though... pointing out the femininity of his features... and it wasn't the kind of admiring that Wess observed the drunkards offering any poor lady who came through the doors. No, he just looked over him, though it was hard to even tell if he was taking any information in, given the exhausted state he seemed to be in. Though he was, he wasn't exactly able to focus on too much, but he did appreciate the other. Even if he did appear a little dirty.
And as the other offered for him to come on in, he found himself surprised. He'd really thought the other would just shut the door in his face. It had looked like he'd woken him up, too. Wasn't he just some kind of nuisance to the other? He figured that was how he presented himself, as some kind of beggar who was causing this other boy trouble. So when he was invited inside, he was more than a little surprised. But he accepted the offer; he wasn't going to get concerned about it now. What it did mean was that he didn't have to go asking anyone else. For once, his search had ended with a first attempt. Unless one counted the inn.
He stepped in, to the corner Wess had indicated, mostly collapsing when he got there, a sure sign of his exhaustion. First, he wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, leaning down a bit with a slight moan. Surely Wess had to wonder if this Norwegian was really someone to worry about. Was he dangerous? Did he have a weapon on him? Well, it wasn't to say that he didn't. He could definitely fit a knife or a small hatchet in that bag, but he hadn't exactly moved to use it. And he looked so tired. The kind of pain he was probably in was almost certainly not faked. He moved so stiffly he'd have to be a damn good actor if it wasn't the case. Perhaps Wess could have been putting himself in some danger, but it didn't seem that he was afraid enough for it to make him uncomfortable. After trying to stretch that way, he turned and went to lay back on the floor, to try and straighten out his injured leg and shoulder.
The attempt to lay back was painful for sure, but a slight yelp was the only distinctive sound he let out, one that probably startled Wess a tiny bit. He managed to slowly relax into a laying position, but he probably wouldn't sleep this way. It was mostly to try and stretch out his sore muscles, alleviate the pain that had built up from being forced to travel this way. "...Fair to me..." he murmured, slowly working himself into a somewhat relaxed position.
No, he wasn't the man who had killed Wess's father so many years ago. He had probably barely been alive eighteen years ago. Still, he was of a race that couldn't really be trusted, wasn't he? Did that make him untrustworthy all by itself? And what was he doing here in the first place? Surely, if all went well, he'd still be there in the morning, and perhaps Wess could hear his story. How he came to be injured and why he'd been so exhausted and stuck out in the rain like that. There had to be a story, right?
He didn't waste any time when he managed to find some hint of comfort there on the floor. Taking the blanket he'd been offered, he lay it lightly over himself, not wanting to inhibit his clothing from drying out. But being this near the fire, he was plenty warm. The warmth was actually helping quite a bit to dry his soaked clothing. And the warmth, combined with the lack of sogginess in his clothes and hair led him to sleep rather quickly. This really was a better accommodation than he'd had in a long time, and on a day like this, he was incredibly thankful for it.
When the morning came, Wess would wake to find the Norwegian still there, curled up in the corner of his room just as he'd left him. Nothing seemed to be missing, he had probably never been touched himself. For that matter, the Norwegian probably hadn't stirred all night. He looked to be in the exact same position he'd fallen asleep in, except he appeared much more dry now that the fire had warmed him and his clothing all night. Well, until it had gone out. That was one downside to burning a fire through the night; it didn't last all night. If anything, his visitor looked peaceful. He'd gotten some much needed rest, at least. Though soon, Wess would probably have to wake him so they could discuss payment for allowing him to stay.
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 17, 2014 14:28:41 GMT -8
The other's yelping definitely startled Wess, but beyond that, it put him at ease more than anything else. The man was certainly in some kind of pain, and clearly moving stiffly, which made it likely he wasn't going to be trying anything dangerous... he could be acting, but Wess didn't see much of a point in that, or a likelihood. The foreigner seemed genuinely hurt, and this definitely wasn't a nice part of town anyway. Wess's room was on the bottom floor, accessible, but one of the rooms usually reserved for staff. He had nothing of value, and his money was all under his pillow... the Norwegian could steal his dulcimer, maybe, and sell it for a decent amount of money, but that was tucked away beneath his bed. If this man even wanted something at all, he would likely wake Wess in the process.
Or perhaps he was just trying to convince himself not to worry, so that he could sleep. He wasn't having a very nice night either, and really, he didn't want to be awake at all. He just... wanted it to be morning again. He wanted to start another day, in the hopes that it would be a little better and his back might stop hurting so much. Sometimes sleep helped it... sometimes. He could certainly hope.
Wess didn't really pay much attention to how the other looked. And that was strange; usually, Wess paid extra attention to a person in the first few minutes of meeting them, and made a judgement from there. But he was tired, and it was late, and the farthest he got on his judgement was that the man was Norwegian and seemed fairly harmless, if not outright miserable... perhaps more miserable than Wess was. And that was a judgement he could build on later, and sleep with now. And he did.
When he woke in the morning, Wess took a moment to remember again what had happened the night before, and then he panicked. Suddenly wide awake, Wess turned over and searched under his pillow for his money, then bent halfway off the bed and checked underneath to make sure his dulcimer was still there. When he found that both were safe, he pushed himself up and looked down at the Norwegian man. Who still seemed to be sleeping... that was comforting. Perhaps he hadn't been so wrong to trust this man to the degree that he had.
Wess slid off the bed, taking care to move slowly when he found that his back had not miraculously stopped hurting in the night, and moved quietly into the bathroom with some clothes to change into. When he finished in there just a few minutes later, he finally stepped over to the sleeping man on his floor, and nudged his shoulder somewhat gently with his toe. "It is time to get up." He told him in a half-mumble, and if he wasn't awake by then, Wess would nudge him again a bit more roughly. He guessed he didn't have anywhere he absolutely needed to be that day, other than... well, church.
Which he really didn't want to do.
Wess was religious to some extent, but he opposed it, too. Religion didn't allow for people like him, people who differed in their gender from what their genitals said they were... and Wess had struggled with that for a long, long time. He'd grown up like a woman, and it always felt so wrong, so uncomfortable, but it was what God wanted, right? He had felt shame for wanting anything else, for wanting to be a man instead. And he had felt awful about himself for years, for his whole life, until he decided that he couldn't be what God wanted him to be and left his life, started a new one as a man. He had decided that he was going to have to sin if he wanted to be alive as the person he felt he was, and there was no getting around that. And he still felt some guilt, but... really, he'd decided that he wasn't what the church and the bible told him he should be, and he was okay with what that was. He had decided he wasn't fundamentally wrong, and if he wanted to get anywhere, he would have to accept that he was just going to be this way. It helped, too, when he could blame his presenting himself as a man on the fact that he wanted to play an instrument that women were largely restricted from.
But church made him feel more guilty, with countless people telling him, if indirectly, that he was wrong. And he didn't want to go. He wanted to run some errands instead... he could skip out on it, if it turned out this Norse man was going to make him, but he did prefer to do it then rather than later.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 17, 2014 15:20:28 GMT -8
It wasn't terribly easy to wake him. When the other nudged his shoulder lightly, it did nothing to help him. but when he almost kicked him, that was good enough to stir him awake. He groaned a bit, taking some time to fully wake up. Though, when he did, it wasn't so easy to actually get up. Granted, he was hurting much less this morning than he'd been hurting when he lay down to sleep. Much, much less. He was probably starting to heal up, finally... Not that it would be easy for a few days, maybe even upwards of a week, but it was better. If he had to travel again, he'd probably be hurting just as much, but if he was able to take it easy, he'd probably be just fine. That, however, meant that he'd have to find a way to stick around in the same area for a while, and that might not be possible. Hell, for all he knew, he was unwelcome enough in this man's home.
He finally rolled over onto his other side to grab his bag. He felt dry now, thanks to the fire warming him up last night, but his hair felt gross and he wanted to comb it. So he pulled the bone comb out of his bag — no way would he have left that in his saddle bag — and started combing through his pale, wavy hair. In doing so, he didn't exactly pay much attention to Wess. No, he was focused on combing through his hair, which was actually... really pretty. Yes, it was the hair of a foreigner from the north, but it was actually very, very nice looking, and even more so now that he was combing through it.
If Wess took some time to really look at this foreigner, he'd probably find that he was an attractive one. And he hadn't caused him any problems, no, he hadn't even tried to do anything, had he? Wess's money had gone undisturbed the whole time. In fact, the foreign visitor had done nothing but sleep through the night. The pain he'd been in had been real, hadn't it? He was still stiff this morning, but much better. He wasn't exhausted anymore, now that he'd been given some time to wake up a little. He still looked a bit tired, but that was likely enough after having gotten some good sleep, but probably needing more. After some time of brushing his hair, he seemed to regain an interest in the other who had taken him in, and his eyes followed him as he moved about the small room, not with any real intention behind them. He was just watching him, perhaps to have something to put his attention on. Though he didn't address him. Perhaps, he waited for Wess to do so, since this was his home, and he would be the one who would need to indicate to him that he was prepared to discuss their terms. It had really been nice having the chance to sleep here the night. He could only wish he had accommodations this good for the rest of his time here, but he knew that wouldn't be so. Still, it had been much needed after his misfortune following entering this land. The fact that he was hurt and exhausted had just made it all the more important for him to have a safe and comfortable place to rest.
Meanwhile, Bern thought a little about how he was going to handle this whole payment situation. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much money he had. He had put an awful lot of it in that saddle bag. Probably more than he had in his personal bag. Damn it. He wasn't sure what he had after all. At the thought, he figured he was probably done with combing his hair anyway, at least for now, so he picked up the bag and started digging through it to see what he had. It wasn't much. Not much more than what one might pay for a night's stay at the inn, even. God, he wasn't doing very well for himself, was he? Well, he'd offer the other this much, at least, and be on his way, right?
He glanced toward him again, wondering what he was up to. What he'd be doing today. ...If there was any chance he could stay longer at all. If the other even wanted to talk to him. He didn't know how to feel about him... or how the other felt about -him-, for that matter. He wasn't entirely sure how he should behave, either... this was the first time he'd just stayed overnight in someone's home like this. Well, or their room anyway...
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 17, 2014 18:18:43 GMT -8
It was a bit weird, Wess decided, having the foreigner watch him as he moved about the room. He wasn't doing much; just idly straightening things up, sometimes grabbing something he thought might be useful for his errands. He usually had a lot of energy when he woke, and now was one of those times; he needed to get up and do something, occupy his hands for a moment. Though, even while he was moving around, there seemed to be a kind of still peace about him... he was a little tense, unsure what to think about this visitor, but he was also very steady and calm. He blocked up whatever fiery emotions he felt inclined to feel, and while he knew they were there, he was controlling them. He was pushing them back and away from where they could do any harm, and addressing them calmly.
After a while Wess noticed that the other was awake and rummaging through his things, and he finally stilled long enough to look at him... he hadn't gotten a very good look at the man the night before, not in that dark, but now that he did, he found him sort of... fascinating. He knew, to an extent, what Norwegians looked like. He knew their hair was usually light, and as was their skin, and he had an idea of what their faces looked like. But he wasn't actually used to it, in the way he was used to the appearances of his own countrymen. And he wasn't sure what it was about this man, if he was alone in this or if it was something he shared with all Norwegians, but he was... he was definitely attractive. He had a nice complexion, and that hair... Wess wanted to fell his hair. It was pretty, and he bet it was soft as well, smooth and light...
He looked away, trying to force those thoughts from his head. He shouldn't think those things about a man, especially a man of a country of brutes. Even though he didn't seem very brutish... he looked fair, and... maybe pleasant, almost. He looked likable in a way entirely different from the people most others deemed likable. But that didn't change anything. He shouldn't be thinking about those things at all.
Wess sat on the foot on his bed, stilling himself finally, and looked down at the man on his floor as he counted his money. Maybe he should let him off on paying him... he didn't look like he was very rich at all, especially since he was begging for shelter. And while Wess certainly didn't care for him, or about him at all, he didn't think the man's money would actually benefit him at all. It didn't seem like he had much, and Wess had just gotten paid his week's salary the night before. Maybe he should just let it alone... it wasn't like he had cost Wess anything anyway.
Still, though, some extra money would be nice... he'd risked a lot letting this man stay, and the foreigner had woken him up, too...
"Where are you traveling?" Wess asked, a bit of a sigh in his voice, "After this, where are you going? Derby? Tabovorth?" They were in Nottingham then, and those were the two nearest towns on the way inland. "Or Lincoln? How far is your destination, and what are you here for?" If this man was travelling far enough, Wess decided, he'd let him off. If he was just there to get more money quickly, though, he would accept some pay.
He returned his gaze to the other, meeting his eyes this time. His face was definitely nice one, and that hair... he rubbed briefly at his eyes, forcing the thoughts back again, and tilted his chin up a bit to look down at the Norwegian man. He wondered if he was a fighter, if he'd ever killed anyone like the men who'd killed his dad had... or if he was barbaric, or a heathen, like they said Norwegians all were. He didn't really look like any of those things. He looked sort of small, really. Small, and clean as well. Maybe he'd been raised in England, or by an English person. Maybe he wasn't really Norwegian.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 17, 2014 20:26:03 GMT -8
While Wess moved around the room, and the visitor watched him, honestly, he was just observing. He didn't find himself doing all that much either... thinking about what had been happening with him, how he needed to pay the other... He had enough, at least to give him what was equivalent for a night at the inn, though getting himself a room there would have probably been better for him in quality... no matter, the situation had been awkward, and he'd explain that to the other. That is, if Wess ever bothered to speak to him! He was uncertain about being the one to start...
So when the other did finally speak, he felt rather relieved. He'd have an excuse to talk, at least. It wasn't that he found the other intimidating... but the truth was, he didn't know him. He'd kind of barged into his house last night, and while he did intend to repay him for it, he still felt bad about it. He'd never do such a thing under normal circumstances... But his circumstances had hardly been normal.
The other's question left him confused, though. He probably should have known the answer, but he didn't. He didn't have an answer, so he gave the best one he could, raising his head toward the other. His green eyes looked rather brilliant with the light coming through the windows behind him, and what was reflected catching their brilliance. His hair really was light-colored. He'd probably heard that the Norse had light hair, though this boy really had light hair, and it looked so soft... "...I'm not exactly sure..." he murmured thoughtfully. "I... left my homeland to start a new life. And this is where I came. But I don't know where I will be going. I suppose wherever I feel is right to go. This is the first town I came to find once I arrived, and that's how I ended up here." He took a deep breath. This really did end up leading to the story of what had happened. "My horse was spooked and ran away with much of what I had, and I was thrown off... hence why I'm in pain. Hurt my leg and shoulder; it got difficult to walk, but I had to continue on foot." He shook his head, sighing. "When I came here, I went to the tavern and inn, because I felt that I would need to rest in a safe place after everything that had happened, but they told me there was no room. So I went to try and find somewhere, anywhere. I didn't want to be outside the city, at risk of being attacked by wild animals, so the best I could do was ask around until I found someone who could take me in."
Huh, it had sounded like he'd been through hell. But there was one thing that didn't sound right about it all... Wess knew the tavern had rooms available! Hell, that's where he was living, and he knew they weren't full up! Perhaps... perhaps this guy hadn't known that he was around the back side of the tavern. Perhaps it had been too dark and he'd been in too much pain and too tired to realize that where he'd wandered off to was just the back side of the tavern. Perhaps that was so... or perhaps it was a lie, from an untrustworthy person. Still, Wess could probably see the people around here lying to him, because he was very clearly a foreigner, and therefore, even in his state, was considered dangerous most likely. Had that been what happened?
He kept his eyes on the other, thinking a little more about his appearance. He was attractive, that was doubtless. He was especially drawn to his eyes... how lightly colored they were. It was probably unusual among his people, as well. Perhaps somewhere back in his family line, he had some blood similar to Bern's... Hell if he knew. He just knew this guy was pretty. He liked the way he moved and sat still, too. He seemed so calm, so collected. He was clearly a peasant but had the look of nobility to him... Bern didn't feel he compared, at least not where that was concerned. He probably moved and spoke and conducted himself like a dirty peasant. But he also probably wasn't helping his case for that with the way he went around stealing stuff. And ironically enough, he thought he might be cleaner than the other. Yes, he figured that the other could definitely use a bath more often. Then again, he'd noted that all the people he met in England seemed that they could use a bath...
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 18, 2014 12:54:22 GMT -8
Wess listened intently, definitely interested by this man... he'd left his homeland, had he? Almost definitely Norway; Nottingham was pretty close to that edge of the border. There were other countries that the vikings inhabited, but Norway seemed to make the most sense. But why would he leave? Wess doubted the man had done anything wrong, it seemed like he just didn't like it there... maybe the culture was too brutish for him. Maybe he didn't like all the violence and the barbaric practices, and he wanted the more quiet English society... If that was the case, he could definitely justify letting this man keep his money.
His story about what had happened the day before made sense to Wess. He was definitely in pain, and being thrown from a horse could certainly cause that kind of injury. He doubted the foreigner had broken anything, as he had been able to keep going, but it certainly seemed all of his walking had made whatever he was feeling even worse. It'd probable be best for him to rest, then, as he clearly didn't have the money for a doctor... Maybe Wess could direct him to some cheap inns in the area. This one wasn't exactly wonderful, but for that part of town, it was pretty nice, which meant it was also fairly expensive to the people that lived there... there were some less wonderful places within a mile that would be more affordable. And probably more willing to house a Norwegian, too... Wess did know that the inn wasn't full, and couldn't possibly be. It was never full. But he knew the owner wasn't afraid to turn people away for petty reasons, and neither were most of the staff. This man had probably been labeled untrustworthy, and that was the easiest way to turn him down without starting a fight.
It definitely sounded like this man had had a rough day... Wess had sort of wished he hadn't taken him in the night before, but hearing this... he felt a bit of sympathy for him, if only because he'd decided he wasn't that bad. He hadn't stolen from Wess, and he wasn't raising a fuss about paying him. His stay had so far caused no trouble to Wess at all, and beyond that, he seemed... tolerable. Almost intelligent, and clean, and fairly polite as well... not to mention attractive. His eyes were so nice, and that damn hair...
Wess sighed, and stood again. "You may keep your money. You have not caused me trouble, I suppose... use it to buy yourself a night at some other inn, where they will not turn you down for your home country." He picked up his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders, then opened his door. It was time for them both to leave. "I can give you some direction, if you would like, but you will have to walk with me. I have errands."
Wess did seem to conduct himself with a lot of grace, but that was more because of his control over his movements than anything else. He was very clearly a peasant, with shabby clothes and an accent that was more coarse and difficult to understand than a nobleman's would have been... but he was calm, and controlled, and if Bern paid close enough attention, he might notice that there seemed to be a feminine element to him as well. Wess saw himself highly, too; he tried to look this way, like he was better than everyone else, because to an extent he felt he was. He had the attitude of a nobleman because he shared that sort of view of himself, and it was honestly a wonder that he had decided to share his space with Bern at all... usually, he cared little about everyone else. But he'd been tired the night before, and unwilling to argue with a Norwegian, or put himself in any kind of danger. He wanted to sleep, and he had figured, too, that he might get some money from it as well. Clearly, his views had changed a bit since then.
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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 19, 2014 12:05:14 GMT -8
Yes, this was a man the other could probably consider interesting. He was by no means the usual person. For one, he wasn't an Englishman, he was a foreigner, probably from a savage land, so to say, and that alone was intriguing enough. But he didn't seem quite like the savage others might have made him out to be, simply because of who he was. He was definitely noticeable. His accent and his appearance revealed where he was from, and that was definitely the sort of thing that could automatically cause someone to reject him. Just because of who he was. And while he hadn't necessarily made the connections last night, when he was weary and suffering, and was still turned down for his appearance, he did now, as the other subtly mentioned that he could go to another inn, where he wouldn't be turned down... yes, that was what had happened, wasn't it? He'd been rejected because of who he was... He didn't need the other to spell it out for him. At least not now.
He'd definitely had a rough time the previous day, and that was what made him all the more thankful for what Wess had done for him. And was doing, it seemed, as the other rejected his offer to pay him. He had hesitated when he heard that from him, and Wess probably noticed that he had been taken by surprise when he said so. The traveler turned and looked at him, giving him a certain look that was hard to read. It was hard to say if he was shocked or honored or relieved or what exactly it was... But he said nothing, didn't even bother opening his mouth. It was as though he had realized that the other had been wholly serious about the unspoken words, "Norse people are not welcome here", but here he was offering to make his life easier. Bern had no problem with that, obviously, but he hadn't expected it, either. And given the other's warning about how the people of this place treated people like him, Bern found himself feeling all the more wary. So why was this person so willing to help in any way?
"You... need not offer such a thing, but if you insist..." He had just made it clear that he would reimburse the other, if the other so wanted. But if he was going to refuse, then, given how tight his money was right now, Bern would accept. And he would also accept what help he could receive. So he stood up, following after the other on his command. If he was going to be here for any length of time, he wanted to know all he could about this place. And even more so, if it was against him.
"Then, surely you must know," the Norwegian continued. Granted, his English was simple, but it wouldn't take long for Wess to realize that his thoughts were complex. "...whether or not the decision to come was the right choice, or not. If there are few here who will offer me anything more than disdain for my supposed character, when they only know how I look." He was obviously still in pain, but he was standing much straighter now, after he'd manage to rest and let his injuries heal a little. Huh, he wasn't the average person at all, was he? Beyond the fact that he was Norse.
He admired the way Wess appeared, too... even as the other was moving in front of him. He really was graceful for a peasant. If he was wearing noble clothes and didn't open his mouth, he'd be fooled. And that was only because his accent was clearly not a higher class one. The feminine features of his character, perhaps, added to this, though Bern wasn't entirely sure why. He did know that he rather liked his appearance, anyway. Though he did get this feeling that Wess didn't like him very much, from the kinds of words he offered him. No, he felt like the other was offended by him or something. And for all Bern knew, maybe he was. But here in this land he wanted to try to avoid causing trouble. It was a high priority for him to do this, so he could make a better name for himself, anyway. It was hard when nobody seemed to give him a chance. So his question was definitely valid, then. Was it even worth coming here in the first place? Would he have truly been better off in a place where people were wary of him, where people might recognize him as someone they should avoid, than a place where people were... still wary of him, but for no reason besides his appearance?
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 19, 2014 14:19:41 GMT -8
The hesitant way with which the other accepted Wess's refusal to take his money assured him that he'd made the right choice, and comforted him in it as well. Wess didn't generally like people, and he liked Norwegians much less, so the temptation to accept some pay had been strong... but this one seemed different, somehow. More polite, and clean, and not so barbaric and evil. He seemed better than most of the English men Wess knew, in some ways. And on top of that, it appeared as if he was dealing with quite a bit of his own troubles... Taking his money wouldn't be fair. The foreigner's hesitance to let him go without pay enforced that idea.
The other's question confused Wess for a moment. Why did he want him to judge his decision to come to this country? Hadn't he thought it through himself? He should already know these things... unless he'd been in a hurry which, considering his current, pitifully poor circumstances, Wess supposed wasn't too unlikely. But he hardly knew Wess; why did he want his advice? Had he decided from his kind actions that he was a reliable source of information, or was he just seeking out whoever would speak to him?
"Perhaps if you had considered how frequently your countrymen attack this place, and how that might affect my people's view of them, you would know already how poor a decision it was to come here seeking refuge or a new, improved life." Wess sounded a bit harsher than he had before, very obviously putting the blame for Bern's unfortunate day on Bern himself. "These people are not naive, nor blind. There are plenty of other countries that would have been far better choices, and I am honestly surprised you hadn't considered them before jumping to this one, unless, of course, you were so rushed that you hadn't the time to think of the effects of your race's brutality." If Bern was paying attention, he may even notice some open hostility in Wess's tone. He hadn't shown it before, partially because of fear, exhaustion, and a strong impression that this particular Norwegian was somehow vastly different from the others, but now it was very clearly there. Wess didn't like Norwegians, probably more strongly than most people in his country disliked them.
"There are, however, people here who may accept you regardless." Wess's walking, which had sped up momentarily, slowed down again to a normal pace. "Anywhere on the inside of the country, removed from the sea, and small towns along the waters opposite countries filled with Vikings. Places far from the brutality of your people, and places with a more staggered population. You will still be judged and hated for no more than your complexion and accent, no doubt, but less so. Your chances of finding hospitality will be somewhat greater." Here, his voice softened a bit. He hated the Norse, but he didn't think he hated this Norwegian man. There was some sympathy in the way he viewed him, even some admiration... if only for his appearance. He didn't seem so bad to Wess, even sort of likable.
"For now," Wess began again, "I would suggest moving closer to the outskirts of town, on this side. This is a poor area, and there will certainly be inexpensive and decaying inns that will be desperate to accept any customer. They may raise their prices, but they will not turn you away, and even then you should be able to receive twice the nights for the same price than you would have gotten here, either in a room or on a place in front of their hearth. Barter, but not aggressively, and take your meals from less expensive grocery stands elsewhere." They were approaching Wess's first destination now, a small, humble tailor's shop, and Wess seemed to be wrapping up the conversation as well. He paused though, leaving his sentence off on a note that suggested he would continue, and he dragged that out for an awkward moment before continuing hesitantly. "... If, by chance, you cannot find a place to stay... you may sleep on my floor again. But I will charge you this time."
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Post by empyreanVisionary on May 19, 2014 20:24:12 GMT -8
Wess probably hadn't met any other Norwegians before, and definitely not gotten to know them like he was getting to know this one, but there was something... certainly different about this one, wasn't there? He didn't have anything to compare it to, but he was definitely different than any Englishmen he knew, and that was in personality alone. He could tell there was no way it could be a culture thing... unless his culture was full of intelligent, sharp-eyed young men who, honestly, weren't trying to hurt anyone. At least it sure didn't seem that way. He seemed awfully honest. But maybe he was still faking it? Could that even be a possibility by now? He'd had his chance to steal from Wess, or even kill him, and he hadn't taken it. But that had been because he was genuinely hurt and exhausted, right? He still looked to be in pain and while he was less tired, he was still clearly not at his best.
And he was asking a lot of odd things. But the fact that he was asking these things, and the way he was doing it made it seem less like a question of whether he was actually doing what was right and more of something... more existential. He wasn't asking a question about the situation at all, was he? He was asking a question about the morality of people; about what drove them to do certain things... or not do certain things. He was asking how much, and what, it took for someone to reject another entirely. It was... philosophy, wasn't it? He sure didn't look like a noble, but he seemed to think like one. Well, not in the pigheaded sense that nobility and royalty tended to... but perhaps, his words were those of a truly intelligent leader, or something. Maybe that was what it was, maybe it wasn't...
Though, when he heard Wess's response, Wess would probably be surprised to hear the other laugh in return. It was a laugh that almost held a sarcastic edge, but barely didn't. "Yes, yes, every nation has its share of assholes! I'll admit our warriors don't have the best judgment. And to be honest, they enjoy the reputation they are given! More fuel to fill the inflated egos of a load of cretins!" He shook his head. "Suffice it to say, the Norse who attack you aren't our best and brightest. They seem to take pride in taking cheap shots at your religion and stealing your valuable artifacts in the process. The real Norse are family-oriented farmers with an interest in diplomacy and trade, but they can do little of either with what the lesser of us manage to accomplish in secret." He shook his head. "Not that anyone here would know, or understand well enough without any kind of proof, and that's understandable. There's nothing I can prove. But I suppose... I knew where I was going when I came here. I suppose I could have made an error in judgment, but..." He looked somehow thoughtful, as he turned his eyes toward Wess, in saying his final words. "... perhaps not."
Yes, Bern knew that his feelings were probably as stupid as could be, but he rather fancied this young man. He kept thinking on how he needed to get him cleaner than he was, but otherwise, he was lovely. And his eyes were so light; a feature that Bern himself found incredibly attractive. It brought so much attention to his eyes, commanding attention to his face. He wasn't particularly imposing, despite his height, without them. More... snide, if he had to describe it, but the... coldness he saw in his eyes, the lightened color... it somehow warmed him, reminding him of home. Reminding him of the good things about his home, the home he'd left behind. He kept having to keep himself from staring, so he turned his eyes away as he moved with him, listening instead to the advice he had to offer. Advice about where to go next. It was good advice, and he was surprised the other was giving it to him. But perhaps, despite the other's ill words toward his people (and, therefore, him), he didn't have as much hatred towards him as he let on. Bern kind of felt like he could break him down. And now, that was something he wanted to do, something that tempted him with its challenge... He licked his lips briefly, as the other continued with a final hesitant line. One that led him right to his final words, as well.
"Well then... this is noted," Bern responded, casting a sidelong glance over him. "But one must wonder... why one must search for a place where they are accepted..." Instead of finishing the line, however, he left off there, which gave what was left of the statement a completely different feel than it would have been, if he'd finished it.
Then again, it might have upset the other quite a bit if he added what he was thinking: '...when they have already found one?'
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Post by ActuallyFace on May 20, 2014 14:32:03 GMT -8
Wess had sort of picked up on the other's deeper meaning in his words, but not enough to consider answering them accordingly. He wasn't quite sure what he thought of Bern yet, but knew he was struggling to get over his initial assumption that he was probably not going to measure up to what Wess wanted in a person. The he was likely not to disappoint him, but to be less than what Wess desired in a conversation partner, or even in a friend. And as a result, he was shaping his interpretation of Bern's words and actions to his own presumptions, to some extent. He was also unsure how to immediately answer a question like that, a question about human mature and how quickly one might reject another, especially when Wess had some small awareness of his own tendency to reject or accept people based on first impressions and assumptions.
It was becoming clear, though, that Bern was more intelligent than Wess had assumed he might be. He was clearly new in the country, but he spoke English rather well, and he was using the words to form thoughts that seemed to be complex in some way. Perhaps Wess hadn't accepted it entirely yet, but it was becoming very evident that Ben wasn't as stupid as he thought a Norwegian might be. And that was warming him up to the other, just a little.
Wess was taken aback by the other's sudden laughter, but he only showed it for a moment, quickly composing himself into his usual, almost constant calm. He wasn't sure whether or not to believe what this man was saying about his countrymen, but... he supposed it wasn't impossible that he was telling the truth. The Norwegian himself didn't seem so brutish and violent, but rather reasonable, and sort of calm. But he wasn't sure if he really wanted to believe that, either. The idea that Wess was wrong was a pretty appalling one... not that he was consciously considering that. And rather than really think about what Bern was saying, Wess shied from it, instead focusing on the rest of his words. How he had decided the come to England, rather than somewhere that might be safer for him considering his race. Was he crazy?! Why would anyone want to put themselves at risk like that, and pull down that kind of misery upon themselves? He couldn't possibly have wanted this, unless he saw himself some great hero, challenging the dangers of the land and hoping to disprove assumptions. But who would do that? This was one man, against armies of vikings who, he had just said, wanted a bad reputation. Was he less intelligent than Wess had started to accept that he might be?
Wess took a long moment to think before he even considered answering Bern's question. Well, it was certainly true he had rejected Bern himself, and many others had as well... Bern was definitely being made to work for his acceptance, and perhaps that was what he was implying with his statement: that he shouldn't have to, and that no one should have to. Which was an interesting thought for Wess, especially when he applied it to himself. No one was accepting, in his culture. The religion stated that everyone should be accepted, but it seemed to confine that acceptance to a specific group of people who were "non-sinners", who deserved acceptance. It made people work for their acceptance. But wasn't that fair? Wess didn't feel like a woman; he felt like a man, despite how he looked to others. That feeling wasn't a choice to him... He had tried to choose to feel differently, and it hadn't gone well. But he had chosen to dress like a man, to present himself like one. Didn't that mean he was sinning, and didn't it mean anyone who knew had a right to refuse him? He hadn't earned acceptance. But Bern hadn't chosen to be Norwegian, he supposed... though if what his people said was true, all of Norwegians were undeserving of acceptance because all Norwegians were sinning in not believing in God.
It was a complex thought, and Wess wasn't sure how to respond to it. This man seemed to think very differently than Wess did, or than anyone else in England did... and he was sort of drawn to his thoughts, in a way. The way he seemed to think meant that Wess would be accepted as well, because acceptance was universal to him, and that was something Wess definitely longed for in some way. But his thoughts also meant Wess was wrong, which was still something of a repulsive thought. He didn't want to be wrong. Dismantling his whole way of thinking was not something that appealed to Wess at that moment.
By the time he had finally decided to answer, they had already reached the front of the tailor's shop, where Wess stopped to face Bern. "Perhaps it is because one is not meant to fit into a place that he is rejected, or because one has chosen to do wrong in that place." His answer seemed a bit less confident than his other words, but they was still some strength to them. "I have business to attend to here. You may want to begin your search for a new place to sleep, though you might have more luck near dusk, when the owners of inns who have received little service begin to grow desperate." He paused for a moment there, unsure how he should continue or if he should, then turned away and strode into the grubby little shop.
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