Fairspell Meadow bleak midwinter

a traveler — was he? though he rankles against the title, that he was as free as a caravan leader with no roots ... he considers that he has been severed from his roots for some time. granted, he'd left home with good intentions. only to not return for almost three years.

somewhere along the line, good intentions had went horribly wayward.

not for long, if i can help it. he replies with a wily grin ghosting across his lips; harkening to the thoughts only he is privy to. i'm looking to settle down. perhaps she would not ask, but as he realizes that initial reply could be taken a multitude of ways, offers a looking glass glimpse into his thoughts; brief though it was.

akashingo? is that your home? sullivan asks, though he would assume so in the way she announces it.