#eremiteoftheforest

Send “🥑” for a Crappy Drawing of ya muse8/10

Don’t worry

The tree already fell when he found it

As usual, once she reached the edge of his forest, she didnt hesitate to step in. Eremite hardly ever took long to find her, so she wasn't worried about getting lost or into trouble. That didn't stop those big ears Of hers from listening carefully for the big guy's approach, though.

closed starter for @eremiteoftheforest​

And then, Spring had arrived. But the Mudman had not.

It was certainly an exciting time for the botanist in more ways that one: It was the season that reminded all just how full of life covered this word of theirs and, in turn, was Sloop's preferred time to go out and rekindle his exploring needs. At the same time, however, it was also the time where his most important and returning customers expected either his small shop or Sloop himself to be present for whatever their needs may be. In no way did mind the frequent traveling itself -- his career involved near constant travel for countless years -- but he himself had no personal means of travel nor were the public transports available quite as fast as he preferred. Thankfully his customers understood and were patient, plus many folk had grown to recognize the man hitch-hiking around this time of year, but it was still quite a lot for one man to do all in the beginning of the season. Many had even shown some concern for the masked man after hearing about his tight schedule, saying it couldn’t be good for his sleep or his heart. The Mudman would sometimes say it was a good thing he had two then. They never quite understood what he meant, but would eventually laugh along with the chuckled reply.

The carriage had dropped him off at the beginning of the dirt road he now walked along steadily. His feet moved one after the other while his eyes scanned a notepad listing name after name, town after town. He had been tackling each "checkpoint" in order from north to south and staying for around a week at a time. It was moments like these that he was grateful for not chasing the idea of finding more spots to set-up shop. No matter how much he loved his job, the number of spots he'd have to visit in such a short period of time would drive him mad.

Send me a 🍲 to give my muse a home-cooked meal. Bonus if you specify WHAT the meal is, of course!

Whether it was edible or not was (almost) unimportant compared to the amount of visible effort put into making the wad of who-knows-what. It was clear as day to that Eremite did not have to do any of this work in other instances with food, and yet he put in the extra care just for him!

Thinking little of the repercussions of what eating the Mystery Meat would do, he was more than happy to take the meal with a smile as bright as the sun itself, but not without reaching up and roughly musing about the troll’s head afterward. "Ya shouldn't 'ave!" he beamed. He stopped to examine what now sat in the palm of his hand, then went still for a moment. "... What'ja put in it?" Though the pause perhaps betrayed him, he kept the question respectfully curious. There was no way around it; he needed to ask.