Whitefish River It's a beautiful and a burning thing

Vienna seemed to listen to his re-telling of the glacial cavern with a wide-eyed intent expression on her features. Kierkegaard found it a flattering approach to his – oftentimes – bland way of speaking. Very little seemed to excite the ashen brute, so he did not always find the reactions of others to be appropriate to his few words, but she seemed to be genuine with her interest, and so it had fueled him to the end of his tale. She then seemed to follow his story with a few questions that must have seemed important to her. “It was cold. The wailing was still eerie, yes,” he answered with a deep frown on his already sullen face. It was surprising that he could speak so well of his past encounter with the caverns, but when faced with an inquiry, the male returned to his basic responses and few words. It seemed that Vienna was ready to relieve the male of his role, and she began to speak of the one place that she had not been entirely fond of either. Kierkegaard listened to her recount the tale of stepping through burned lands, having found the ash to have been a pleasant experience even if the death that had surrounded her had been troubling. She certainly seemed to be something of an optimist in the face of something that typically caused creatures fear and sadness. Still, he had never seen the hatred for burning lands and raging fires. They took without asking, and while that was both frightening and inspiring, there was, in fact, a positive side to the death and decay that was a burning landscape. “Fire brings new life,” he remarked in a thoughtful drawl, his eyes darting away from her for a moment of time.