Firestone Hot Springs dust turns to gold

Thanks for joining! <3 Also, bleh crap post is crap.

Company wasn't something that Ragnar had anticipated as he decided upon Firestone Hot Springs as his place of respite on his journey. Her scent had been masked by the warm, spicy earth as, enriched by the constant dampness that lingered in this place, and he had not seen her because he had not been looking. Of course, it was when her greeting reached out to him that he realized his mistake and the scarred Scandinavian rose, cautious. It was friendly enough, her greeting, and as eyes of caribbean ice eyes touched her form in the distance that yawned between them the Viking relaxed only slightly. She did not seem to pose any sort of immediate threat to him, Ragnar assumed, and did not feel the need to be hostile himself, thus far. Hello, Ragnar parroted her greeting, lifting his muzzle slightly in attempts to identify her scent. She smelled like The Sunspire, a scent he knew well enough. He had visited them once, and it was a scent that had clung to Nerian for a little bit after her little trip. I did not expect company, Ragnar admitted with softened honesty, canting his head ever so slightly to the side in a bird like manner. Though it is not unwelcome. The Jarl offered her with a small, charming grin.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN