keep your teeth sharp 
Everything was starting to feel normal. It was beginning to feel likethe vast majority of his existence prior to when Ethel walked into it. The wilds of the lands he had visited and even those that he had called home had always felt more welcoming than to stand at the egress of his own front door. ' 'Home' had become something of ajail, a cage of memories so pleasant it was torture, a constant remainder of his failings, a never ending deluge of consequences from his actions. He couldn't wait to bring Yggdra here, the place she was meant to be raised once the war was over and he and his wife were permitted to return to their normal lives. Their daughter would have played with the other children in Sanctuary, she would have spent idle days dancing and spinning with her mother in her dance studio, mimicking the fluent motions she instructed with a cIumbsy charm only befitting a child's intent. 

But that wouldn't come true.
And that would only ever be get another 'what if'.

He'd avoided town for the most part, staying in the wilds for both the safety of those who lived there from questioning about his whereabouts. Just as much as it wasfor his own sake. The haunting notions of what could have, and should have, been were unpleasant ones to say the least. Today, however, he had chosen to venture in, unable to keep goods from those of less fortune. He knew manyof those who once prowled the forest paths in search of game were yet to return from the capitol, and as such, their families were to make due with what meager supplies they were left with or that a soldier's earnings could afford. With the looming threat of war, however, trips for trades were also quite rare as well.

So fresh cuts of red meat lingered in a bag, wrapped in skins and parchment alike, kept cool for the trip by the chilling waters of the river wild. Likewise, salted pelts clung to his shoulders, necessities provided for the swiftly approaching mountain winters. It wouldn't be long now before the first flakes of snow made their appearances at this elevation. The butcher was his first visit, the once familiar and bright features of the woman left bereft of her former vitality, the wrinkles of her brow now more pronounced than before. Despite the cover of his helm, recognition lit in her dark umber eyes, and accented her vocals as she spoke, "Been awhile. Most obliged, sir."

keep your teeth sharp 
The woman spoke lightly, her voice soft, holding a light edge to it that he couldn't quite identify. She was accustomed to his silence, and to the awkward words that he did mutter in reply to any inquiries she possessed. He didn't like the way her haggard gaze appraised him, unlike all of the other similarities, it wasn't the same as before. She'd always held a friendly air, but this was something else. However, her stare shortly became distracted as she was presented with the forest's bounty for appraisal. Her features became a bit crestfallen, as she separated the cuts into differing piles. "I can't pay you for anything more than this." She finally vocalized a source of her suddenly sullen behavior. "Business hasn't been too good since... well."

His weight shifted, his crown tilting slightly. "I don't need coin. People need to eat." He spoke the words simply. He knew that many and more were ruled by their greed for currency, and for many of those here, it wasn't mere useless need. It was becoming the mirror image of life and death. One that had his jaw forcefully clenched. The shop keep hesitated, her mouth opening and slowly closing before she went to speak, a faint trill of her vocals suddenly cut short as the door opened with the soft chime of the bell. “I’ve got that salve for you miss—” The stranger would also halt speaking as her basket slipped from her arm.

The contents spilled across the floor boards, fruits and vegetables rolling along the planks with audible commotion. “My apologies,” she hastily murmured. “I can come back after another round the block,” she would add as her fingertips pulled forward the cover of her cloak. Her skin was a deep, rich, midnight blue, illuminated faintly by the glow of markings that made their home among her forearms that were plainly visible with the motion. Quite outlandish. Easily marking her as an outsider in this town. A sensation he was familiar with despite his own distance being mostly self imposed. It was no secret, after all, that most of those who lived here were possessed by a fear of those not mortal as they were. This was supposed to be a hidden paradise for them. But nothing could ever remain so. The address of war had discovered them none the less in the king's jurisdiction.

He would bend, picking up the waxy peel of an apple, followed by whatever else lay close at hand. The action continued until he was close enough to offer the contents back to the basket where they rightfully belonged. "I was just leaving." He offered in objection to her own suggestion for her to return later. He did still have to leave the furs and hides with the tanners. He also still needed to ensure that Ethel would have wood for the chill of the evenings. A notion that stirred recollection, along with the scent of herbs that seemed to linger upon this woman and her whicker weave. "Are you a healer?" He would inquire, his voice lower as he straightened, hands now empty.

keep your teeth sharp 
“Y-yes sir, I am.” She murmured in answer to his inquiry, the words sharp with nerves. A slight hum would leave him in uncertain consideration, reverberating softly through his chest and the visor of his concealing helm. “Pardon just a moment,” he would dip his head, his foot steps carrying him closer towards the door where he would recline momentarily. He supposed it was a stroke of good fortune that they'd crossed paths here. Despite his best efforts at cleaning the lesion in his arm, it still refused to seal itself, not becoming just a memory as most had in the past. He still had several errands to do, and Ethel would need wood for the colder nights.

He witnessed their exchange. The butcher's wife was getting on in years, he realized as she seemed to be prescribing her some salve for arthritis pain or some manner of joint discomfort at least. He was certain the work load that followed the departure of her husband also wasn't easy on her either. The resilience of Sanctuary was always something he'd admired for quite some time. The way the people here had dug in their roots and refused to simply give. It should be criminal that the draft had found them. None should have known of this peaceful existence, a want that sacrificed an easy life for one in search of the meager freedoms they could be afforded. Even their game had been hunted in some means to provide sustenance to the city of Odersten and its large population. He'd heard talk of the notice being posted when the shortage of food and supplies had at first become a threat. He'd loathed it for them, but he'd thought at the very least Ethel and Yggdra-

He shook his head, clearing away the train of thought before he could be claimed by the mire. He had too much to try and accomplish today to sink into the tides of loathing self destruction. “Do you require aid, knight?” His crown would tilt faintly, his gaze drifting from the femme to the shop keep who lingered at the counter. "Outside, if you don't mind." He would murmur, though his other hand would begin to unclasp the buckles of his gauntlet, edging the door open with his shoulder and holding the portal open for her should she deign to follow.

The leather and steel slipped free from his forearm, allowing him the luxury of rolling up his sleeve. The dark color purposeful in covering the blight of crimson that marred his skin, smearing as he revealed the still weeping gash high in his bicep, having bled through the cover of his tightly wrapped bandage. "Washed it," he begun, "but it won't stop. I've still got more work to do."

keep your teeth sharp 
Though he didn't wish to burden the kindly woman with his ailments, let alone for word of injury to reach the ears of his wife, he knew better than the dame at the counter to spare him a blind eye and play ignorant. His only hope was that she didn't witness it personally to report anything, and at the very least she could see him seeking 'proper aid' as she had claimed it in the past. More than a few times he had earned her gentle scoldings when he had turned up with kills and furs for the shop to process that hadd left marks of their own. She always claimed he couldn't just rub dirt in it and walk it off, that folk would worry. That they would fret over dangers in the woods when their own husbands were destined for the hunt. Then word would almost certainly be mysteriously delivered to the dance instructor and he would be persistently hunted down.

In current days, he'd count himself lucky to escape with both ears.

“May I?” At her inquiry, he would proffer his arm willingly to her examination. The welling crimson slightly hastened as it was freed from the tight wrap that held it somewhat at bay. “The wound is too deep to cease on it’s own.” He would nod at her counsel, a possibility he had come to suspect on his own with its determined persistence despite what would be called his best efforts. Then again, he wasn't anything close to being called a healer. He barely knew enough to keep himself alive in the more dire of circumstances, little more than basic first aid. Things he didn't hesitate to apply to himself, accustomed to hunting and working alone, though he supposed others may find them.... barbaric at best.

"In need of another cleansing, and salves to bid the threat of infection away.” A quiet ah would leave him at that, his brow furrowing lightly as he looked once again to the blight. “I—” She would pause, halting herself and his attention would once more rivet back to her features. Her hood slipped from her crown, revealing in full the outlandish woman the resided underneath. Certainly, she would be catching every eye in town should he streets be as busy as they once were. However, in the aftermath of war and famine, there were precious few remaining to turn their heads. Something he was perhaps a touch grateful for so as to avoid the shroud of further suspicion himself, doing what he could to avoid drawing any unneeded attention his way. Even more so now with the lavish of a bounty placed on his shoulders.

“I can stitch it, won’t take but just a few moments, if you will.” Another nod found him. One such thing he had done before, one he'd rather avoid repeating considering the harsh pucker of drawing thread too tight. A deep, ugly scar left behind in painted memento. “Should do so sooner rather than later, I suggest.” "As you say," he would agree with ease. His shoulder rolled as he withdrew another square of coarse material from the satchel lashed to his belt to press to the lesion. "We can get whatever supplies you need for the job. I'll cover them, of course. Mm-" he halted for a moment, retrieving a smaller pouch of coin from his belt. "And this, for your trouble. Along with my thanks."