Bearclaw Valley you got melted to butter

Evien gets to his feet with a quiet sigh, running a hand through tangled curls as he went to open the curtains. Regardless of his state of disarray, the herbs were still neat and the room was tidy, if not a bit dusty. It was only himself that he was tearing apart piece by piece, punishing himself for his perceived follies. 

He deserved this.

"Does that matter?" he asked quietly, pushing past the blond to straighten up some of the burdock he'd seen out of line. Neat, tidy. Everything organized and in its place. Except his hair, his clothes, his bed. "Who I am?"