Welcome to Gaia! ::

Svana folded her arms. "That's nice. I'm already immortal. So his he." She nodded toward Baldur, then pointed to Urt. "He isn't, but you aren't touching him." She blinked. "Actually, wait, on second thought, make Urt immortal. Urt, you're off the hook for offspring. You're getting a forever life. Do it," she invited.

Urt made a noise of protest as he rose from the floor, cradling his head in his hands. "You want what?"

"And then you can kill Kira for me."

"Gladly. But what do you want?" he asked in confusion.

"I think we might just leave," Svana declared, whisking around and gathering weapons. "Because I am done with all of this crap. It was fun for a while. Distracting for a while. But we're leaving. Urt, grab your ax."

"Finally the first thing you've said that wasn't bloody nuts," Baldur muttered, sheathing his weapons.

"Out, out, out!" Svana called, ushering them all in front of her. "Good luck, Lance!" she cried over her shoulder.

Out of the cafe, they staggered onto the plain and the tall grass into the middle of a battle field.

"Did you really have to kill that poor girl?" he grumbled to her.

"She was a bargaining chip and the only one I had. Let's get back to camp. Amund...I mean." She stopped cold. Back into reality. Where Amund was dead. "Let's go," she growled. The other two fell obediently in line with her.

((Sorry, guys, but I'm pulling out of the RP for now. I've got a new character I'm trying to flesh and I can't seem to focus on them. Once I work some things out for them I might toss them in and get things going again. Have fun in the meantime!))

Lance's skin was covered in goosebumps underneath his coat as he cradled his bag to his chest, snow quickly cascading over him in the storm. The first door he saw he threw open and dashed inside. Warmth spread through his numbing body, and he crossed the room to the counter where the waitress leaned on the counter.

"Warm milk, if you please," he said quietly to her, dropping coins on the smooth granite. "A hot chocolate, too, please."

He gently set the bag on the table and removed a small, snow-covered, shivering kitten. Holding it close to him, he dripped a little milk into its mouth. Concern was spreading in his black eye; his white eye remained completely blank. Shielding the kitten away from the other person in the room, he continued to feed it.

There was white stuff on the man who entered the cafe directly after Jóna, spattering on the floor and tumbling off his clothes. She watched in amazement as it lots its pure white color and turned, like magic, to water. She tracked him curiously, head cocked, waiting for her lemonade. Suddenly, out of a satchel, he produced a curious looking vermin of the likes she had never seen before. It was a feline, but miniature, no bigger than a rat. She had caught glimpses of the tough, savage wildcats of her home, but never more than a passing shadow before clearing the area. She barely noticed the man's unusual eyes, fixed on the creature he fed even as he turned his shoulder to her.

She watched another human enter, this one very youthful, probably only a few decades younger than Jóna herself. She didn't look good.

"Perhaps you should go help her," she suggested to the wait staff behind the counter as she received her frozen lemonade.

Her drink instantly vexed her. It had the consistency of rock and came with a spoon. She scraped at it with a taut frown, immediately annoyed with it, bringing some of the slippery shavings to her lips to sample. It was cold! Colder than even the winter storms when the temperature in the swamp dropped low enough that its inhabitants sought skins to wrap in for warmth.

They had told her ice, of course. She just wasn't sure what she expected. Shoving the lemonade away in disappointment, she turned her attention to the man and his rodent-sized feline.

"What is that?" she asked, invading his personal space without regard to see over his shoulder.

Jóna cocked her head curiously, hopping up on the bar where she see over him better, drawing one long leg up underneath her. "Never heard of it," she replied in reference to the flower. "Those things any good to eat?" she added, nodding toward the kitten. "Does it get any bigger?"

Curious, Riasha glances over to where the pair are discussing the kitten. Normally she would smile, perhaps even go over there to see it, but at the moment she's just too tired. Her knees are rather adamantly telling her that getting up now would be unwise because they will stage a mutiny. Instead she just rests her cheek against the table and half-lids her eyes.

((Urt tries to eat a cat?))

Lance ran his free hand through his thick, dark purple hair, trailing his fingers down one of the shaved sides of his head nervously as he held the still shaking kitten in his other hand. The snow melting on his jacket was soaking into his skin, and he shivered.

"Because," he said gently, "kittens are helpless little creatures who have a lot of love to give once you give them love. They love to play and run and take naps and eat, and they can hunt birds when they grow up. When they're happy, they purr, and when they're sad, they sit with you. They're friends, and definitely not food."

The kitten was falling asleep in his hand, and he immediately began searching through his bag for a towel. His hands reddened and numbed as liquid snow was running down his body.