The night was cold, all nights were. It was late, the sun had gone down what felt like days ago, and Mira was at the outskirts of Norn. As far as she could look, dim lights faintly painted the place before her, and the smell of firewood ever so faintly permeated outwards. The old crone stared into the moonlit dark atop a chilly hill, roughly 200 feet away from the road to Norn. They told her about this place, like many places. “To Norn. Fires among the night. Walk the long road.” The dead, and her crows for that matter, never did speak very clearly. Mira always believed it was hard to speak to the living from so far away, but it was of little consequence, as she arrived. Off into the distant sky, she could hear the guttural noises of a crow circling overhead, only confirming even more that she was meant to come here. The old woman descended the hill with her equally old staff in hand. Peaceful footsteps occasionally accented by the [i]tink[/i] of her staff against the steadily growing stones along the road. Mira walked many roads like these throughout life, but few had stones sunken into the ground, they must have a good hold on things out here, she thought. The glow of the fires, and the scent of fires warming the homes grew as she approached. 

A loose, airy black hood partially covering Mira’s face as dark hair slinked out made it clear she was an outsider, outsiders don’t look like villagers, dressing in dark clothes, wandering through the night. Mira passed home after home, following the warm glow she saw. There were others gathered in the place that was coming into view while the sounds of ravens still echoed. The night was always darkest before dawn, the sun would surely rise soon. Norn had a good feeling around it, children were beginning to scurry through the village, and the spirits were quiet, good signs. As the night began to lift, minute by minute, Mira’s dark figure became human. Her attire became muted slowly as her face was more visible. On her walk through Norn, she passed a man outside. He was tending to a blade on his doorstep in the faint morning light. Her stride slowed to stop a stone’s toss from the house he stood at. 

“Good morning to you,” she called, her seasoned staff outstretched in her hand with a straightened arm as she lowered her hood with another, perhaps to appear unthreatening to a stranger. “If I may speak with you for a moment. I am not from this place, and have just arrived. Would you know where I might find a place to rest in this village? A tavern, or perhaps an inn?” Mira spoke politely and slowly towards the man, he may have just woken up, and she need not disturb the peaceful atmosphere. A raven cooed at the sight of Mira, from overhead of the two, atop the home’s roof. The spirits were watching. 

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[sub]Interacts with : [@LadyRunic][/sub]