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Who: Vogg Næmsson & Bee Dunstan
What: Homesickness
Where: Bee’s cottage
When: Thursday evening.
There was something to be said about a viking that missed home. Add on top of that the loneliness that he felt upon losing those he cared about in battle, and all of the plans and ideas that were formulating in his head, Vogg needed to keep himself busy. He’d seen little in the way of carpentry orders, and was very aware of the traditions he’d let slide last month, so he wagered he could make up for less time and possibly cheer some others up.
There was one person, however, who he knew would understand better than most. Bee, while she wasn’t from his time, at least knew of his homeland and had an appreciation for the history of their shared land, which made it easier to share traditions with her. Of course, most of the things he shared had been long since retired to the memory of bitter old men from stories long ago, but she always seemed eager to listen and share food with him.
Ostara had passed, but that didn’t stop Vogg from roasting lamb and potatoes and carrots, baking bread and the simple sort of things he’d managed on the ovens (to be honest, Vogg prefered ordering food because the kitchen tools confused him). Piling them in a basket, along with colored eggs and chocolate for his friend, he left the castle down the path to her home, knocking twice before pushing his way into the home knowing she was still tired from her injuries.
“Bee, I have brought a proper Ostara feast.” He called through the house as he entered.
What: Homesickness
Where: Bee’s cottage
When: Thursday evening.
There was something to be said about a viking that missed home. Add on top of that the loneliness that he felt upon losing those he cared about in battle, and all of the plans and ideas that were formulating in his head, Vogg needed to keep himself busy. He’d seen little in the way of carpentry orders, and was very aware of the traditions he’d let slide last month, so he wagered he could make up for less time and possibly cheer some others up.
There was one person, however, who he knew would understand better than most. Bee, while she wasn’t from his time, at least knew of his homeland and had an appreciation for the history of their shared land, which made it easier to share traditions with her. Of course, most of the things he shared had been long since retired to the memory of bitter old men from stories long ago, but she always seemed eager to listen and share food with him.
Ostara had passed, but that didn’t stop Vogg from roasting lamb and potatoes and carrots, baking bread and the simple sort of things he’d managed on the ovens (to be honest, Vogg prefered ordering food because the kitchen tools confused him). Piling them in a basket, along with colored eggs and chocolate for his friend, he left the castle down the path to her home, knocking twice before pushing his way into the home knowing she was still tired from her injuries.
“Bee, I have brought a proper Ostara feast.” He called through the house as he entered.
