((ooc; i decided to drop a customized starter for us here if that's okay!! just lmk if it isn't))
[And thus Solvunn continues to hammer the word “communal” into Henry’s life experiences, whether he desires it or not. There is truly no escape at this point. It was inane of him to expect any mode of privacy when it came to giving the Summoned a place to stay. They’re all ushered into a communal tent, after all, free to choose where they wish to rest their heads, but it is inescapably social in how near they are to others. How whoever chooses the spot nearby can only be called a “roommate” via proximity alone.
None yet, though. With any luck, none at all. Henry is hardly an imposing soul—lean and all limbs, and a quiet demeanor—but he notably makes no effort to seek out company when company is already practically ushered under one single tent. Instead, he keeps to himself, and hopes that is hint enough that he might be left alone.
Curiosity compels him to dig about in his gift bag in the meanwhile, however. He takes out a mug, holding it up by its handle, inspecting the color and design. The hue is mottled with greens and blues, hastily applied in a child-like way (considering it was made by children), but carved onto its body is the shape of a long-legged spider.
Henry tries his best not to let appreciation bubble up within him, which is distraction enough to not notice the approach of another until it’s too late. His eyes flick up and over to see…
TENT ROOMIES
[And thus Solvunn continues to hammer the word “communal” into Henry’s life experiences, whether he desires it or not. There is truly no escape at this point. It was inane of him to expect any mode of privacy when it came to giving the Summoned a place to stay. They’re all ushered into a communal tent, after all, free to choose where they wish to rest their heads, but it is inescapably social in how near they are to others. How whoever chooses the spot nearby can only be called a “roommate” via proximity alone.
None yet, though. With any luck, none at all. Henry is hardly an imposing soul—lean and all limbs, and a quiet demeanor—but he notably makes no effort to seek out company when company is already practically ushered under one single tent. Instead, he keeps to himself, and hopes that is hint enough that he might be left alone.
Curiosity compels him to dig about in his gift bag in the meanwhile, however. He takes out a mug, holding it up by its handle, inspecting the color and design. The hue is mottled with greens and blues, hastily applied in a child-like way (considering it was made by children), but carved onto its body is the shape of a long-legged spider.
Henry tries his best not to let appreciation bubble up within him, which is distraction enough to not notice the approach of another until it’s too late. His eyes flick up and over to see…
…
Is that a shark man?]
…Hello.
[What else is one supposed to say, really.]