The crunch of the snow beneath his feet, deadened by the sound of the roaring wind. His black cloak wrapped around his body to keep him from freezing to death out in the wilderness. His silver hair flowing behind him as rapid as the spring time river. If only it were spring in the highlands of Auroria. His view is obstructed by the driving snow, but his one focus is moving forward. A soft glow begins to emerge from the distance. Step by step he gets closer and the warmth of the cabin accepts him into it's home. He shuts the door behind him and unravels himself from his cloak.
Sitting by the fire in a recliner is a man playing a light tune on his guitar. Across from the man on the hearth is a woman, younger than him, playing along on a harp. The music along with the crackling of the fireplace flood the room with a gentle tone. The feeling is soon shattered when the sound of boots being stomped on the stone floor echos through the small abode. The man with his guitar looks up to meet the man's gaze at the door.
"Ah Jericho you're home!" He smiles and sets his guitar to lean against the side of the fireplace.
"Yeah...if only winter would just end already." Jericho removes his cloak and sets it on a hook near the door. "I was in town earlier."
"Any news?"
"I'll get to that in a moment, I'd like to warm up before I do anything else." Jericho removes a scabbard from his sash and places his scimitar on the love seat in front of the fire.
"Ah of course." He reaches for his guitar once more. "Scarlette and I here were just writing a song together, wish to hear it?"
Jericho looks at the woman with the harp. If his cheeks weren't red from the cold, they would be now. Just looking at Scarlette turns him scarlet. The history between them is long, Jericho is a reserved man. Although him and Siegfried can get along at times it was Scarlette who really connected with him. She looks up from her instrument and a soft smile graces her lips.
"Hello Jericho, it's good to see you home safe."
"It's good to see you as well, Scarlette." His eyes avert from hers, the soft smile beginning to become contagious, he then looks back to Siegfried. "Where is Flinn?"
"He should be up in the kitchen preparing dinner."
"Could you get him for me?" Jericho sit's across from Scarlette.
"What's in it for me? Why not do it yourself?" Siegfried's brows crease at his words.
"I'd like to stay by the fire a moment longer." The addition of these words weigh down Siegfried's brow even more. He wasn't raised to be told what to do. When you're the king's son it's usually you who's giving the orders.
"Then after that moment you can get him yourself." His words snap under their own displeasure. Siegfried sits sideways in his chair and begins lightly strumming his guitar.
"No need fellas!" The gong of a voice echoes loudly from down the hall and a mountain of a man emerges from it's corridor.
"You called?" He holds his stomach and lets out a deep laugh. His black curly beard shakes with his chest, the large man looks like an overgrown dwarf, with the mentality to match.
"Now that Flinn has joined us...I was in town earlier when I met a man." Jericho begins to search for something on his sash, a small scroll.
"What'd he look like? You can tell a lot about a man by his hands." Flinn speaks as he looks at his own calloused, yet surprisingly delicate, sausages. Jericho pulls out the scroll and opens it to full length.
"No Flinn, actually I couldn't see his face as it was covered by a hood." Jericho waves a hand over his own face to mimic the placement of a hood. Siegfried's guitar yells at Jericho with a high note that catches his attention. "Yes Siegfried?"
