abraxaslogs | WELCOME TO SOLVUNN!

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WELCOME TO SOLVUNN!

WELCOME TO SOLVUNN!

Welcome to Solvunn! Bright suns and merriest of welcomes to you! The portal opens in a vast field on the western side of town surrounded by cattle, with a distant view of the bustling marketplace. The first impression of the settlement is one of idylic, country charm. There are no looming structures or crowded streets. Instead, there are cozier houses on wide streets and community buildings made of stone and wood. A gentle breeze rolls across the field and the sun is high in the sky.

There's not as much magic here as in other locations, but it's there. No one will be stopped from entering Solvunn, though suspicion will be cast upon new arrivals. Citizens will be friendly and welcoming, but curious about their new visitors. It isn't often that they welcome new folks- especially not so many at once!

With tensions between the other communities, Solvunn will not be keen on ratting out those who fled Thorne, but with the knowledge that sanctuary will not be given for free. Everyone does their part, whatever that part may be.

Asking questions will result in being told to find Rowan March, one of the council members, somewhere in the marketplace.

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Estinien looks up with a sort of built-in wariness when he hears someone approach, but relaxes as soon as he sees who it is. He nods his greeting to her, and then turns his attention back to the sheep he's holding.

"Trimming hooves," he says. The sheep bahs its disapproval. "Pasture animals like these oft will not wear theirs down quickly enough, allowing them to become infected or overgrown. These lot are overdue."

Though their flock was a small one, Estinien had some experience learning to do as much when he was a child. Getting back into it hasn't been as hard as he thought. Physical strength and dexterous hands can go a long way.

"Is that something you know about from home? Or are you just a fast learner?"

It's an innocent question and one she asks with a smile as she traipses a little closer to him and his wooly client. She can't say she'd even be able to tell what length a hoof should be. She supposes - at some point - it would be obvious but she can't picture it in her mind at all.

"Can I help at all?"

She's not sure if this is a task where she can lend a hand but she decides to at least ask.

Estinien hesitates, as he often does when this topic is brought up, but eventually he nods his head. He clips the hoof on one of the sheep's forelegs, its back laid against his chest and legs, leaving its head tucked beneath his chin.

"I grew up raising sheep," he says. "My father was teaching me how to care for them."

He'd actually been close to being a teen by the time his father got him involved in that process. Before that, he mostly just watched.

"I'm about to attempt the hind legs. If you can keep it from kicking, it may make things easier."

It is a bit hard for her to think of a young Estinien, let alone one wrangling sheep as he is now. He's such a serious man. She can't help but wonder if he's always been severe or if once he had a more youthful spirit.

"So you were on a farm like this when you were a kid, then?" she asks, wondering if farms in a world with elves and people with lizard tails resembled any of what they've been living in since they went through that portal.

She perks up immediately and nods, stepping closer again to look the sheep over.

"Of course. How should I hold its legs still? Is there a certain way I should grab them?"

He nods his head again, looking a little withdrawn at the thought, but not to the point of giving her a cold shoulder. It seems to make him thoughtful, more than anything - though not without a trace of nostalgic sadness to his eyes.

"'Till my twelfth summer," he says. Where he went after that, he is less eager to say. He diverts his attention to practical concerns. "Just the leg beneath the foot should be fine to hold. 'Twill allow me to use both hands."

Once Relena is holding the leg as instructed, Estinien will reposition himself and begin clipping away the pointed toe of the hoof. To his eyes, it's clearly overgrown. As he works, he speaks up again.

"Much of Solvunn reminds me of my homeland, truthfully. To think, that we'd stumble upon a family farming sheep, of all things."

"I see."

It's a quiet acknowledgement to let him know she'd been listening at all. That trailing off means he probably won't say more than that. That's her experience with men like him, but she has no reason to push it. Through his childhood is enough to know right now.

Relena nods to him quickly then gets down lower to the ground, taking the sheep's leg in her arms as she's been told. She decides to keep her eyes more on the sheep than Estinien for now, just a bit afraid of being kicked.

"It's serendipitous. I'm sure it's made it a bit easier for you to adapt for now, while we're still here."

Because, in her mind, this is all extremely temporary. She has no interest in being here for long and she can't remember how to stay in one place for any notable amount of time, anyway. Still, she'll be here as long as her traveling companions are, at least.

Fortunately, with the sheep positioned like this, its legs mostly seem to rest fully extended, in a way that is sort of comical. The sheep gives a soft 'maah' but otherwise doesn't put up much of a struggle. Estinien moves on to the next foot.

"Better than I adapted to being imprisoned, at least," he says dryly. That experience had chafed on him from beginning to end. "'Twill be some time before we can determine whether or not Solvunn will align with our goals - and how the Free Cities compare. If there is some compelling reason for destroying the Singularity outright, I would be interested in hearing it."

Estinien has no idea how long any of this will take - it's already been much longer than he'd initially hoped. He's prepared to play the long game if he has to.

Relena is surprised at how still the animal keeps despite being turned at an unnatural position for it. She'd never been so close to a sheep. It's sweet in its own way. The smell is new, but somehow, she doesn't really mind it. It all smells better than that dungeon.

"I should be more used to the prison thing, but the people who have held me captive before were determined to save face to the public."

Duke Dermail had been haughty about the fact that she was being treated as a guest instead of the political prisoner she was. No dungeons, no cells, no physical cruelties which meant he was being amicable and simply hosting a fellow politician. Everything about that time still puts a foul taste on her tongue.

"You're right... I have no idea what to think right now. Oliver impressed its importance to our being able to leave this world, but for as much as I deeply appreciate what he did for us - for me - I know better than to take its disciple's words as gospel, so to speak."

It's why she wants to travel again when it's possible to move more easily between locations. She wants to know as much as she can about this world to understand it properly. Even Thorne still has more to tell her, she's sure, though going there any time soon would be a death sentence for her.

For political reasons, he imagines, based on what she's told him before. He guesses if they were trying to secure some kind of agreement by doing so, throwing her in the dungeon wouldn't be the best way to accomplish that. If only Ambrose were capable of learning such simple diplomacy tactics as that.

He falls silent for a few moments, contemplating what Oliver had suggested. In the meantime, he spots something undesirable in the hoof he's trimming and frowns. Setting down the clippers, he picks up his small hoof knife, slicing off thin layers of horn in a matter not entirely dissimilar from soap carving.

"'Tis likely wise to remain cautious. All the same... the Singularity being critical to our escape is something I've considered for some time now. All magick is drawn from it, ostensibly, and our connection was meant to provide us with greater access than any native to this place could muster. As such, wouldn't that enable us to perform feats unprecedented in this world?"

Relena watches his expression shifts and tips her head to try and see what he's cutting off. It's interesting to watch someone work with her hands. She's really only done a bit of horse care in the stables at her school. It's nothing like what Estinien is doing now. She can't help but wonder just how much he and Himeka know about life like this. How much can she learn?

"It makes the most sense to me. And that connection is so valuable that there are those that would want to steal it. If that light that was transferred from me can... tear a man apart... I wonder what it can do when harnessed? I wonder if our ability to access that magic becomes stronger the more we visit the Horizon? Or does it draw that light away from us and make us weaker? It's a shame it's all speculation right now."

He hums in uncertain agreement, there being so many questions regarding this business that can only be answered with idle speculation. He intends to harness the Singularity's power to whatever degree he can, but Relena has a point - there's nowhere to even begin when it comes to figuring out what things make their connection better or worse.

"Taming a space within the Horizon did seem to feel... satisfying, somehow," he says, feeling like maybe that means interactions with the Horizon are to their benefit? But he is interrupted when the blemish he'd noticed on the sheep's hoof only seemed to get darker and messier.

"Damn it," he hisses between his teeth. "Careful - it may be in discomfort."

He carefully cuts away at the hoof, revealing a circle of tissue that looks almost rotten. It's not a large spot, but it's something that needs to be cleaned out.

"That's true, it does. I'm not sure why... I guess it's rewarding us? But what does it gain by it if that's true?" Relena asks, though she's not sure how aware the Singularity is. She knows Oliver is its disciple, but that doesn't say much. Her curiosity about it gets worse as the days go forward.

That curse makes her worried as she looks between Estinien and the sheep. She hugs the leg more firmly to her and watches the sheep for any squirming.

"Is it okay?"

The sheep does kick its foot a little as Estinien cuts at the bottom of its hoof, but thankfully, with Relena's help, it isn't too difficult to keep hold of. Estinien lifts his shoulders, squinting at the area like he's still trying to determine the answer to that.

"It has a sore on its hoof - surprising as it may be, cracks or punctures to the hooves can develop infections, much as a wound to the flesh would. If left untreated, it can even begin to rot, causing the creature significant pains.

He slices away a few more strips of horn. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to be unearthing any deeper cavities of infection - though, the area surrounding the blackened hoof does bleed a bit. The sheep bleats softly.

"The solution is to cut away the damaged horn, cleansing what is left behind."

Relena startles for a moment when it kicks, but she hugs the sheep's leg more firmly to keep it still, instinctively making a hushing sound as if it were a child rather than a sheep. Some part of her wants to comfort it, but she keeps herself still so it doesn't flail out of Estinien's grasp.

"Do you have to keep cleaning it until it's healed then? I imagine there will be a lot of dirt build up even after a day, right?"

She can't help but think of such a thing on her own foot and wrinkles her nose. She wonders what kind of ointment would exist in a place like this.

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WELCOME TO SOLVUNN!

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