Wanderer

Little My takes a bow. She put quite a bit of energy into that dance, so she decided to sit next to her half brother.

Snufkin gives her a smile, then tucks his harmonica away into his pocket. He stands and takes a few steps towards the pot over the campfire, giving the stew a nice stir. 

It’s just before dawn, with the sun yet to rise--the only proof it’s there at all is the faint orange outlining the horizon. They’ve got to be fast, then, or they’ll miss it.

Snufkin stands outside Moominhouse, below Moomintroll’s window,, his harmonica poised for a wake-up song, which he begins to play. 

somajesticdonki

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“{me to myself: artie no you dont need a mymble jr blog does it anyway}”

so whats the blog

Little My jumps straight into the next song. She is a big fan of this one. Waving her arms around gracefully and twirling around, she sings along to the tune, “la la la la…”

It’s great fun, playing music while his sister dances. But the song comes to an end, and Snufkin takes his harmonica away from his lips, and puts it in his lap in favor of clapping.

Kiana felt a little intrusive when she realized he detected her, but when he made no motive to shoo her away, she just smiled at him. As he finished, she gave a polite clap. “Good afternoon!” She beamed. “I apologize for intruding, but I couldn’t help but come over and listen. You play really well!”

“Thank you,” He says. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Besides, such a day as today calls for a tune, I think.”

It is really quite lovely outside today. The soft, lush-looking grass sways in harmony with the soft breeze that’s neither too warm nor too cold-- it’s just right. The flowers seem to be in good spirits today as well, as they’ve all bloomed widely in the warmth and bright sunshine, releasing their pollen as they soak up the rays.

Snufkin raises his harmonica a bit, indicating it. 

Little My waits a moment to catch the rhythm, then starts prancing around Snufkin’s little camp. She attempts to hum along, but as she doesn’t know the song well, she’s not quite in tune.

Snufkin half-watches his sister as she dances and tries to hum with the music, a smile on his lips while he plays. 

Moomintroll looked back at him, rather surprised about him smiling, not that it was anything new per say, but this one was a genuine. “Perhaps you’re right about that, I don’t think we would have met if you’ve stayed with your family or we would have been friends.” He replied, thinking about it for a while. He looked back down, trying to process what Snufkin had told him.

He hadn’t thought of that, about how different things would have turned out if he hadn’t ran away from home. “I can’t imagine a world where we would not be friends or where you wouldn’t travel as you pleased, it just..doesn’t sound right at all” He added, looking back at the mumrick.

Snufkin tilts his hat a bit over his face, his cheeks warming a bit as he thinks that he can’t imagine a world without Moomintroll, either. How embarrassing.

“Neither can I.” He says in response, “It wouldn’t be right, and I’d surely feel miserable trapped in a house with thirty siblings I can’t escape from. Maybe if I stayed, I would have grown to resent them. But the fact is, I hadn’t, and I’m very content with things just how they are. I like my travels, and I love this valley.” He admits, flicking his hat back up with a little grin as he looks back to his friend. 

His eyes practically turned to stars at hearing the hum tail thumping on the ground to the imaginary beat. “I do! Papa taught that one. He said his friend Joxter taught it to him when he was on his adventures!”

He nodded understandingly and being empathetic towards him he admitted, “I’m not that good with the violin either. I’m still learning and Momma said that’s okay. It takes time for people to learn new things and not to rush your progress!”

With legs splayed out and paws on the ground, he leaned forward, “how does it taste? Is it good?” (He sure hoped so!)  Watching Snufkin eat he continued, “If you want we can go on a picnic together next time in a nearby flower field; then I can bring even more food for you to try!” Though he wasn’t sure what food Snufkin preferred to have or if he’d admit what it was so soon.

“I’m not sure when or where I heard it,” Snufkin admits. And it’s true-- the song is only a memory, all by itself.

His memory is further prodded at hearing the name “Joxter”, though he can’t quite connect anything to it, making him unable to determine why it’s familiar. It feels like his mind is underwater, trying to swim to the memory and being just unable to even touch it with his fingertips. It’s an odd feeling, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s anything important, right? If it was, he’d surely remember.

Snufkin nods with Moomintroll’s words, silently agreeing. His Mamma sounds nice, he thinks, and she’s certainly a wonderful cook. At first, it was hard to appreciate the taste over the need for food, but now that he’s slowed down he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything so good. While that’s always true when you’re hungry, this was different-- when you’re really hungry, anything tastes good, but it just tastes like food. This-- in the pie he’s eating in his bare hands, he can taste the sweetness of the sugar and apples, the cinnamon and the lovingly worked crust coming together in a harmony only someone with experience and care could make. 

Snufkin knows what food tastes like, but he doesn’t know what good, homemade food tastes like. Even the orphanage somehow only served flavorless mush and pre-packaged things that taste like artificial flavor.

At Moomintroll’s question, Snufkin can’t help but nod with great vigor. He doesn’t even have the mind to swallow before speaking again.

“It’s amazing! I haven’t tasted anything this good in...” He starts, but trails off as he can’t even think of when. “Never, I guess.” He concedes. His words themselves are a bit sad to think about, but he says it rather plainly, like it’s simply fact (which, to him, it is).

springstune wanted to say hi:

    Too-Ticky was rotating her fish over the fire when she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her. She slowly turned to see a green hat emerging from the leaves.

    “Snufkin, have our paths finally crossed this autumn?” She beamed, feeling surprised. “Moomintroll has talked a lot about you being his best friend and I am happy to finally meet you! My name is Too-Ticky.” Too-Ticky extended a fish-scented hand.

    “How are your travels going?”

Appearing from the bushes, Snufkin listens as the figure he’s come across speaks. He’s a little surprised as he’s recognized, but he shouldn’t be-- he’s rather well-known for a vagabond. After Too-Ticky’s introduction, Snufkin realizes he recognizes her from things he’s heard from Moomintroll, as she had of him.

“Likewise,” He says, taking her extended hand and giving it a firm shake before letting go. He doesn’t mind the fish-smell, as he’s sure he doesn’t smell much different, himself. 

Little My smiled. Snufkin’s tunes were always the best!

“Okay!” she stood up and dusted off her tunic. With good music what would she do if not dance along?

NICKNAME(s) : Snuf (ONLY by Moomintroll)

AGE: Anywhere from 15 to 23. He doesn’t have a set age, really, though I’d put him around Moomintroll’s age if not just slightly older.

SPECIES: Mumrik

PERSONAL!

MORALITY :  lawful   /   neutral   /   chaotic   /   good  /   neutral   /   evil  /   true

RELIGION: Snufkin isn’t very religious. He respects religions, but he himself isn’t sure what he believes, and he isn’t sure it matters in the long run. At least, not for himself.

SINS   :   greed   /   gluttony   /   sloth   /   lust   /   pride   /   envy   /   wrath

VIRTUES  :   chastity   /   charity   /   diligence /   humility   /   kindness   /   patience  /  justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Common (English) and other dialects, plus I believe he knows enough of the languages spoken where he’s traveled to to get by, at least. Besides English, he’s fluent in Swedish, German, and Welsh.

SECRETS: Snufkin is secretly afraid his attachments are holding him back, that he’ll never really be free. He thinks there are things he must do to maintain his freedom, and it’s more of a concept that’s boxing him in, which he doesn’t realize. He keeps quiet about his past, but it’s less of a secret and more something he just doesn’t like to speak of.

PHYSICAL!

BUILD:    scrawny   /   bony   /   slender   /   fit   /   athletic   /   curvy   /   herculean   /   pudgy   /   average

HEIGHT: Several inches taller than Moomintroll. Unsure the exact height.

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Snufkin has small birthmark on the back of his neck, below his hairline. It’s round and dark, like a mole. Though not birthmarks, he freckles in the sun. He has many scars, most from being a child and not being very careful. He has a scar on the bottom of his foot from stepping on some glass without any shoes on, many scars on his hands where he’s cut himself, or fallen and braced himself on something, a burn scar from being clumsy with matches, and many little scars on his fingers from various things. He has a scar on his torso from an encounter with some bandits, and some scars on his back from falling from a height onto some nasty rocks. Needless to say, Snufkin is very experienced with a med kit.

ABILITIES /POWERS: If this is meaning strengths, Snufkin is resourceful and wise. He uses his experiences in the world and learns from them!

RESTRICTIONS: Snufkin’s greatest weakness is himself. Though he would believe it’s his attachments to others (Moomintroll), it’s really just his own self limiting himself and convincing himself that he can’t really be free like this, which is one reason why he leaves every winter. 

FAVORITES!

FOOD: Snufkin’s favorite food is stew, not only because it tastes good but it’s convenient to make using different ingredients and typically he can use what’s on hand. He likes hearty foods, and greatly dislikes food that’s processed or made from ingredients he can’t pronounce. They just don’t taste the same! He also very much enjoys the taste of freshly baked bread, that’s just a little brown on the bottom.

DRINK: Coffee! ...And sometimes maybe a little wine or rum, if he comes across it.

PIZZA TOPPING:  Snufkin is an anchovy-pizza man and you can’t convince me otherwise. But he’ll also eat nearly anything that’s given to him, so.

COLOR: His favorite color is blue, the color of the sea. He also likes greens, browns and other earthy colors.

MUSIC GENRE: Snufkin has an appreciation for all types of music but his favorite is folk music!

BOOK GENRE: Snufkin tends to read non-fiction. Not that he dislikes fiction, not at all, but he typically reads for information, and doesn’t read much for pleasure. Though if he comes across an old book, it doesn’t really matter what the genre is, if the words are visible, he’ll read it. (His favorite book is Alice in Wonderland. He had a copy, once, but after reading it he didn’t see the need for keeping it and gave it away.)

MOVIE GENRE: Adventure!

SEASON: Snukin’s favorite season is Spring, when everything is new and fresh again and he returns to a place that truly feels like home. The singing of the birds and the beauty of blooming flowers, plus the weather, are just a few of his favorite things. Not to mention, it’s when he sees his dear friend Moomintroll after a winter alone again.

CURSE WORD:  Snufkin only ever curses if the situation is one that calls for it, and never uses a curse worse than “damn”. He otherwise very much dislikes bad language, and it’s quite shocking to him. This is something still instilled in him from his days being in a orphanage-- the adults that ran the place had harsh punishments for those with potty mouths and 

SCENT (S): the smell after a rain, the scent of cold air, the scent of a campfire & the smell of food cooking over it

FUN STUFF!

BOTTOM OR TOP  : 

SINGS IN THE SHOWER: Softly, to himself while he bathes, yes. Sometimes more humming than singing! Sometimes he doesn’t.

LIKES BAD PUNS: Depends on the pun and who is saying it!

Moomintrolls smile only seems to widen at the acceptance of the food happy that his friend accepted the gift. He wasn’t sure if Snufkin would take it or not and had prepared for rejection. Picking up the bag that he had carried the food in, he quickly followed along. His stubby legs forcing him to work twice as hard to keep pace with his friend.

To most the place that Snufkin made as his might not been much but to Moomintroll it was amazing. It felt like in a split moment he was living in his Papa’s stories, where he lived off the land in the woods it was all a grand adventure, something completely different from the norm.

Ducking inside he sat near the back, crossing his legs as best as he could to give Snufkin room so he could sit comfortably. He sent curious glances towards the objects that were laid out tempted to reach out but stopped himself. Mamma always told him not to touch things that weren’t his unless he had permission.

His smile fell slightly at the way Snufkin was eating, making a knot of worry well up inside of him. He wanted to offer him to meet his parents, to come and eat at their house but something told him that wasn’t a good idea.

“Do you know how to play the harmonica,” Moomintroll asked pointing at the instrument eyes twinkling in excitement once more. “I can play the violin a bit! Mamma’s teaching me how when Papa is busy with his book.”

At the question, Snufkin pauses in his eating to answer, wiping his hands on his tunic in an attempt to be a bit more civil. 

“I know one song.” He says. “Maybe you’ve heard it? It goes like this,”

Snufkin hums the opening of All Small Beasts Should Have Bows in Their Tails for Moomintroll, not wanting to muck up his harmonica with bits of food. 

“I’m trying to get better, but I don’t think the birds like it very much when I’m playing the same notes over and over...” He admits, taking another bite of his food. He’s much slower this time, no longer as starving but not quite done.