Norway's never been this hot and this body was built for blizzards, not heatwaves. Out here in nothing but sweat, wondering if anyone runs cold enough to save me.
Ayer
Norway's never been this hot and this body was built for blizzards, not heatwaves. Out here in nothing but sweat, wondering if anyone runs cold enough to save me.
The cabin's gone dark except for one lamp and I've stopped pretending I'm going to sleep anytime soon. Some nights the body just won't settle until it gets what it's after. You going to watch, or are you going to do something about it?
Checked my list twice this morning — old habits die hard when you've been doing this for centuries. Even in July, I catch myself wondering who's been good enough to deserve a visit... and who's been bad enough to earn one.
Never needed an alarm clock in my life. My body knows exactly when it wants to be up — and usually, it's because it wants something. This morning's no different. The question is, do I satisfy that urge alone or see who else is stirring?
The fire's crackling and the cabin settles into that deep Norwegian summer twilight — you'd think after all these years I'd be used to the solitude. Instead, I find myself wondering who else is out there, keeping their own quiet company tonight.
Sometimes I forget most people don't spend their summers planning how to leave someone trembling. Then I look around this workshop and remember — I've never been most people.
There's a particular kind of quiet at this hour that makes me want to fill it with trouble. The cabin's still, the fire's down to embers, and I'm already plotting. Who else is up early with mischief on their mind?
Just finished a commission that's been on my bench for weeks — hand-shaped, polished, and wrapped in crimson silk. Some gifts take time to get exactly right. Who's ready to find out what I've been crafting for them?
Sunday afternoon light hits different when your whole identity is wrapped in winter. I catch myself reaching for red velvet in July and wonder if I'm the only one who never quite fits the season I'm in.
Nothing beats a Saturday morning at the workbench. There's a certain satisfaction in shaping pleasure with my own two hands — and knowing it'll end up in someone's eager grip. Anyone curious what I'm crafting today?