[ Not too far from the shores of the Hydra Gulf, its waters visible from a tiny, rundown structure, is something one could call a shack. Would never think of calling it a home, and that's the case for its lone occupant. If such a building — if you could even call it that — could even be considered enough to have an occupant.
What remains of its walls facing the gulf have been battered by weather, but enough of them still hold up to be called walls. There are a couple of rooms; only one actually has a roof, though another has what could generously be called a roof-in-progress. Should the gulf's waters ever overflow, then Amos would probably lose everything he has in here to flooding.
So, good thing he doesn't really have anything.
When Oliver had said Solvunn was reclusive, Amos both couldn't have imagined this and yet isn't surprised by it, either. He found a society in which everyone looks after one another, takes care of one another, knows each other and cares about each other and promptly fucked off as best he could. Where others may have found families to take them in, Amos found a shack so rundown that nobody out here is even touching it, and almost as if by association, nobody out here is even touching Amos.
Which he's perfectly fine with. Amos has had to fake it to blend in. There have always been two problems with that: does he even want to bother attempting to fake it; and if yes, is he capable? The empty, amiable smile he often defaults to should probably be a dead giveaway that the answer to the latter is no. But the answer to the former is usually no to begin with, so.
He's well aware that he's a pariah out here. Stored in a more functional part of the shack is fishing equipment that stands out by way of being of actual quality; Amos spends a fair bit of time along the gulf's shores, catching what he can — pretending he's back in Baltimore, pretending Baltimore had a living ecosystem — and either eating it for himself or selling it. When he drinks, he drinks alone. The rest of his time is spent slowly improving this structure into... not a home. Home will never be here. But at least something more liveable, much as he doesn't mind the straw bedding, the way he can look up at the starry night sky completely devoid of light pollution and be woken up by the sun. The novelty hasn't worn off yet.
All Amos has is to take things day-by-day, unchanging, occasionally swallowing to try to dislodge something in his throat that isn't there, soothe something phantom deep in his gut that. He doesn't like this. He didn't like the dungeons in Thorne. He still hasn't thought about them, worked his way through any of that. And in some ways, this place is a little too similar to where he grew up.
What certainly is different is seeing a face he knows — likes — all the way out here, nothingness all around them matching the nothingness he's felt seemingly every day of his life, and maybe seeing her again actually makes him relax some, feel warmer, soften his features. Give a small smile, offer a little wave, a soft, ] Hey, Hime. [ Amos is capable of comprehending the fact that maybe he fucked up by leaving Himeka and the Primary Settlement; incapable of comprehending the why behind it, even as her mere presence makes him feel better. ]
meanwhile, in the Tertiary Settlement
What remains of its walls facing the gulf have been battered by weather, but enough of them still hold up to be called walls. There are a couple of rooms; only one actually has a roof, though another has what could generously be called a roof-in-progress. Should the gulf's waters ever overflow, then Amos would probably lose everything he has in here to flooding.
So, good thing he doesn't really have anything.
When Oliver had said Solvunn was reclusive, Amos both couldn't have imagined this and yet isn't surprised by it, either. He found a society in which everyone looks after one another, takes care of one another, knows each other and cares about each other and promptly fucked off as best he could. Where others may have found families to take them in, Amos found a shack so rundown that nobody out here is even touching it, and almost as if by association, nobody out here is even touching Amos.
Which he's perfectly fine with. Amos has had to fake it to blend in. There have always been two problems with that: does he even want to bother attempting to fake it; and if yes, is he capable? The empty, amiable smile he often defaults to should probably be a dead giveaway that the answer to the latter is no. But the answer to the former is usually no to begin with, so.
He's well aware that he's a pariah out here. Stored in a more functional part of the shack is fishing equipment that stands out by way of being of actual quality; Amos spends a fair bit of time along the gulf's shores, catching what he can — pretending he's back in Baltimore, pretending Baltimore had a living ecosystem — and either eating it for himself or selling it. When he drinks, he drinks alone. The rest of his time is spent slowly improving this structure into... not a home. Home will never be here. But at least something more liveable, much as he doesn't mind the straw bedding, the way he can look up at the starry night sky completely devoid of light pollution and be woken up by the sun. The novelty hasn't worn off yet.
All Amos has is to take things day-by-day, unchanging, occasionally swallowing to try to dislodge something in his throat that isn't there, soothe something phantom deep in his gut that. He doesn't like this. He didn't like the dungeons in Thorne. He still hasn't thought about them, worked his way through any of that. And in some ways, this place is a little too similar to where he grew up.
What certainly is different is seeing a face he knows — likes — all the way out here, nothingness all around them matching the nothingness he's felt seemingly every day of his life, and maybe seeing her again actually makes him relax some, feel warmer, soften his features. Give a small smile, offer a little wave, a soft, ] Hey, Hime. [ Amos is capable of comprehending the fact that maybe he fucked up by leaving Himeka and the Primary Settlement; incapable of comprehending the why behind it, even as her mere presence makes him feel better. ]