Home Sweet Home - Sigurd

Home? Nothing Solaria had, no modern marvel or cozy inn, could ever compare to the home waiting for him before the rift. It was this mentality that Sigurd clung to every day, after hard labor working for Tomas at the bustling docks of Newport, or as he shut his weary eyes aboard the Knarr at night. Many of the others of his kin who had arrived in Solaria with him had come to love it here or accept some semblance of a life while they waited to return home. Even Sigurd’s chief had done the same, leaving him the last man within the belly of their ship to find rest.

Them being absent from the ship Sigurd didn't quite mind, for starters, he could sleep at night without being roused due to some monstrous snore or gag at the smell of passed wind. He didnt have to worry about being knocked out of his hammock or bumped into in the night. No, with it just being him alone in the hull of the Knarr, Sigurd could finally sleep in peace or at least some semblance of it. Yet, the true problems arose when he wasn't asleep. A taunting, unusual silence rang in his ears, allowing his mind to race in the lonely creaking of the weathered ship. 

Yet here he chose to lay, in the confines of the viking ship called the Knarr. His bed consisted of a cloth hammock which sat on the aft of the boat allowing him to be rocked to sleep as the ship was moved by the soft waves of the port. Weathered and aged wood made up his walls, covered in barnacles and mold from its many years at sea. This space was a shared space with some fifty other hammocks just like his, many of whose occupants were no longer with them.. It was a stark and often painful reminder as Sigurd would climb into his own bedn, looking out at the remnants of the men he had come to call family aboard this vessel. Most of their belongings still resting right where they had been placed by them. 

In an attempt to keep his sanity however, Sigurd tried to focus his attention on his own space. Now that he was alone upon the ship at night he decided to outfit his small piece of it to better suit his needs. Nailing a shelf onto the wall in order to hold some carved wooden figures he had etched in his free time. A bear, a dragon, and a Kia- Sigurds father, all stood upon this new mantle next to a small candle that he could use to illuminate them in the dark hours. Other than these things, Sigurds home or hammock rather offered very little else. He kept his spare clothes and armor strapped to the bottom of his bed and his sword laid across his chest as he slept - just in case. It was a humble existence, but Sigurd didn't want for anything else... at least not until he could truly return home.