Dragoncrest Cliffs Out of Bounds

In some ways, Rosencrantz was like a soundboard to help Njord sort through the torrent of feelings tearing through his brain at the speed of light. What do you want to do about it? he asked plainly. Simply. As if the situation wasn’t very nuanced at all and the answer could be crystal clear. Njord furrowed his brow, a bit frustrated – immature in his understanding about how to get through the tough times in life. Wasn’t wallowing in pity enough for now?

A long, stretchy strand of spittle drooled freely from his puffy jowl as the gears turned inside his head. Sllluurrrpppp, Njord sucked it back up with a painful grimace. “Do about it? What’dya mean do?” he asked with a harsh tone. He didn’t mean for his anger to be directed at Rosencrantz. Njord was just angry at the world and his impoverished situation. His potential love affair had been snatched like a rug out from under him. “I already did it. I lost. It’s done.”

Hakuna Matata?

Njord breathed a heavy sigh, realizing he was being a little immature and rude. “Sorry,” he mumbled, swallowing a gulp of bloody spit. “Jeez, I dunno Rose. What would you do? I can’t go back ov'r there.” But he also wasn’t ready to let Valmúa go. If only he knew she was a total gold digger, maybe he would change his mind.