come clarity

It was not often that Ragnar overslept. In fact, he rarely overslept. Sometimes, he barely slept. His sleeping patterns did not exactly coincide with the norm, then again, he was the Jarl and sometimes things had him up at ungodly hours; and sometimes he was simply plagued with visions that would startle him awake and haunt him until he was forced to get up and patrols simply to take his mind off of it. Ironically, it was the exact opposite. Ragnar had been in such a good sleep, a deep slumber that would have made the dead envious that he was not, unusually, the first to rise. When Ragnar had stirred awake it had been to find him alone. No children, no women. Still half asleep he had a moment of panic where he questioned if he'd even climbed in the right den. It was soothed an instant later by the scents that clung to the earthen floor, and the fact that he remembered plopping his body between Thistle and Nerian right before he had been seized by sleep. Brow furrowed slightly before a yawn overtook him as he wondered why not a single one of his small but growing family decided to wake him. Not the children and not his wives.

With a grunt and a grumble under his breath about women he exited the den, squinting against the onslaught of sunlight that barraged him, opening his eyes in so increments so they could adjust. The scarred Scandinavian took a moment to stretch, shaking off the last tresses of slumber before he began heading in a random direction, planning on grabbing a bit of breakfast from one of the caches before he headed off to run his patrols. It was on his way to one of the caches that he caught sight of Verrine approaching with determination and purpose in his step. The Jarl slowed, and greeted the soon to be father with a soft chuff of greeting.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN