Désmoda had been living a comfortable life—well, comfortable for her. She had a rather nice roof over her head and she could get to the market if she wanted to ride in the carriage. But she also had a few people she could ask to do so for her… for a sufficiently-inclusive definition of “ask”. Yes, she’d released the last poor bastard she’d indentured from her cellar, but not without taking some insurance that, should she request a favor or two, they’d not feel in a position to turn her down.
And now that her cellar was housing only empty wine casks at the moment, she found herself in need of someone to share her home. She’d never admit it, of course, but she did get terribly lonely from time to time. Maybe there was a more appropriate way to meet men than entrapping, torturing, and blackmailing them… but how would she know? Her mother had wanted to raise a lady and she’d wanted to spite her mother, so away she’d run when she was 16, taking some of her dowry with her before mother dearest had had the chance to disinherit her.
Now she was not quite so much older. She’d learned to brew and ran a modest tavern which served hand pies and drinks. It was… perhaps not well known, but it was whispered here and there that she had a home of some size, no husband or children to fill it, and rumors slithered round that she took people in at a whim. She did have ways of letting it be known when she wanted a new housemate, after all.
Some may have called it running, Harald Sigurdsson? Not so much, especially considering he had so many duties on a day to day it was hard to ever even escape. Which.... Was exactly what he was doing now. He needed some place he could slip off to for awhile, some place no one would actually come looking for him and his older half brother couldn't bother him or male demands of him. He also couldn't just go trouncing over seas to join his brother in England that just wasn't practical for his own plans nor would it have put him in a very different position. Sten was, not as pushy or demanding as Olaf, not as downright degrading as their uncle but he still talked to Harald as if he were a child and it got grating after a time.
Everything did, everyone did! Now that wasn't to say Harald wasn't a social butterfly in his own right but everyone needs a break once and awhile and he was no exception. Plus he was in search of someone, something in particular in the area. So frankly between his need to hide out while currently his brother was on his ass about why he was refusing to marry a woman from Denmark and his ever growing ambitious plans... This prospect just seemed to fit for now.
No one in the nearby village seemed to recognize him, it was nearly a three day trip through wilderness where up until now he'd had the Seer's trail and if he was to continue to look for her in these mountains it seemed like a safe bet. This..... Well now that his horse was approaching it did seemed a bit freakish but perhaps on this side of the mountain range it was normal for a woman to live alone and in such far proximity from the actual village. Giving his horse a yank of the reigns he slid off, boots landing in the thick snow that still coated the ground. The skies had been clear yet even now in this time of winter it was cold. Cold enough he even his the wolf's pelt and head on as he lead his horse closer to the front of the home eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of life at this point.
Désmoda had, when she'd got the place, set up her dining table in such a way that she could easily see out, but it wasn't so easy for others to see if she was in. She preferred to live and move in the dark although she had lamps she lit for guests and housemates. So when she saw the man approaching, she was ready. After standing and smoothing the skirt of her pastel yellow cap-sleeved dress, she made her way outside.
"Hail, traveler," she called. "What are you doing out there in the snow?"
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