feel the essence fill the void

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

Goose was distracted from his search for shade as Noah crouched down, which was always an open invitation for some much-desired cuddles or an opportunity to knock the taller men on their assess. With a rising wag in his tail Goose slunk sideways towards the demi-god, his tongue flashing a few licks to the offered hands, as much in greeting as in an attempt to taste the snack remnants from when Noah had set everything up. As Iskra drew up however the dog slunk away, following his nose to where the actual snacks lay assembled. With the men occupied in greeting, the dog's tongue curled towards a stray appetizer, careful to be silent.

Goose very well might have gotten away with snarfing down the whole table too if not for Bartholomew's boisterous entrance. Although Iskra was nearly drawn to noise like a moth to a flame, the undercurrent of tension in the exchange set the wandering woodcutter on edge at first. This was why he usually kept to himself.

"Aren't ye a fuckin' Halovian?"
Why yes, yes he was.

Iskra stiffened, the hairs on his neck lifting with a surge of adrenaline that came unbidden at the accusation flung his way. His hand slipped from the greeting with Noah, his head turning over his shoulder as "Iskra," fell by way of introduction from his lips, the conversation cutting off as Bartholomew breezed towards them. Iskra's body tensed with an old practice of preparing to defend himself, although he was certain if a fight did break out he'd get his ass beat. His fitness wasn't of much use under his lack of direction; the training his mother gave him in his childhood was a distant memory that only provided some fundamentals to build on, but nothing more.

Guilty, because here he was skulking away from his cell when his wardens had just asked for improvements to their prison, Iskra opened his mouth to speak. Thankfully he was saved from actually doing so (was that an apology prepared on his tongue?) because shortly after it became clear that the rugged nurse was focused wholly on Noah. Scratching at the back of his head absently, Iskra stepped to the side, just then catching his sneak of a dog. His features tightened and he closed the gap, batting away the mongrel who began to furiously devour whatever was within reach the moment he realized he'd been caught. "Goose," Iskra hissed under his breath, shoving the dog's snout away.

Hearing Noah's collected, if not tight, voice cut through caused Iskra to glance back towards the posturing affair. He quickly leaned against the table to hide the aftermath of the mutt's gluttonous rampage. Lest they get thrown out for lack of obedience, Iskra stuffed a cracker into his mouth, willing to take the fall if need be. With crumbs scattered in his beard, he nodded back at Noah, swallowing so abruptly that the cracker caught in his throat with a bulge. Unable to speak for a moment, Iskra grabbed for the nearest tool to get busy before he had to explain just what the fuck was wrong with him.

With broom and scrub brush in hand, Iskra set to sweep up the top-level debris that the wind and weather had blown in through cracks and holes in the entryway. After that, he'd use his scrub brush to get at the grime and algae that began to fester in the cracks and the darkness. Although never his first choice, there was something soothing about cleaning. It was nice to see something brighter emerge underneath what you originally found. Each drop of sweat was an active effort towards that end. Sometimes, trying to make something better felt hopeless. It's not always as easy to see the changes, and it feels like all you're doing is smearing the filth around. It felt that way for him each day he went to the woods and poured every ounce of his misery into the tree bark. He didn't notice it because the changes in him weren't as tangible, but a year ago he wouldn't even get out of bed daily, much less contribute anything to value to anyone. Maybe he wasn't fully operating yet, but little by little, he was getting cleaned up too.

Having swallowed his Lunchables, Iskra stilled his broom to say "why here?" Admittedly, much as Iskra appreciated the aftermath of cleaning something up, the actual progress of it was a bitch. With only the three of them, this place felt massive, and his loyalty wavered for a moment, laziness nipping at his generosity towards this mixed bag of strangers. Then, just for conversation's sake as he leaned back into his bristles, "isn't it haunted with all the old souls that went untreated from the past? Might be easier to build something new and less uh, spooky."

(Hi sorry I might have gone on a few tangents here SOBS

Iskra takes a broom and scrub brush and starts to clean the entryway, #1)

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND