[ Snow worms and March don't mix. Neither do things like exploring, or hard physical labour, or anything about Milton, really, but he's heard of a few veritable victors. Good for them. He's got firewood and enough food for a while and the desire to do exactly jack and exactly shit sans working on distilling alcohol. Going stir crazy is something he's trying to avoid, though, so a few strolls around the good ol' snow filled block and holy shit, is that fire?
Like snow worms, fire and March don't mix at all but for completely different reasons. Panic builds up inside of him, and the moment he hears the shriek the village idiot immediately jumps into action. March to the rescue, barging in to save the young girl. ]
Jesus fucking christ! [ It's hard to take him seriously when his raised voice is more of a wheezy squawk. He's yanking on the nearest piece of heavy fabric he can and immediately starts to try to smother it.
the place you rest;
Like snow worms, fire and March don't mix at all but for completely different reasons. Panic builds up inside of him, and the moment he hears the shriek the village idiot immediately jumps into action. March to the rescue, barging in to save the young girl. ]
Jesus fucking christ! [ It's hard to take him seriously when his raised voice is more of a wheezy squawk. He's yanking on the nearest piece of heavy fabric he can and immediately starts to try to smother it.
Not fire. Not fucking fire. ]