#rivervale_lodge

"She thinks she's a Newfoundland."

"Heh." A grin "I suppose she does. Jaymes adores her though not that he'd show it where others cvan see"

"Oh, I see it. That's why she won over Browndog. Though... I'm real glad Browndog got to stay at the lodge."

"Mm odd how that worked out" a wink, and he does pet Browndog "You know, Browndog may not be as big as the Sibs" (meaning the Fae hound Great Pyranness) "But his tail swings fiercely"

"Yeah, he's a happy guy. And the sibs look out for him."

"I'm surprised the name Browndog won out. I think Tove tried for Bernie, and others tried for Hank, but Browndog stuck"

"Well.. he's brown, and a dog, and..." A shrug. "It fits."

"Odin sure picked his name!"

"Yes he did. And he certainly thinks he's wiser than the rest of us, and we should hear about it. "

"OH yes." An affectionate and gusty sigh.

"he's definitely your cat, or maybe you're his troll"

:Maybe both?"

"Probably... mmm there's Mackerel glaring out the window. Siv isn't here and she's miffed"

"Siv'll be back."

Tail lash, glare outside

"Soon, cat! Morning!"

Indeed, the night hours are dipping towards the morning more and more, the moon choosing a landing spot

Dagmar may fade, may waver... but she guards, only drooping to sleep once the sun is in the sky.

A blanket is put over her when she does, but out of respect for her station, Torin does not move her from her post.

The blanket stirs her enough for a sleepy thank-you, and she moves to crash on the couch with Brown Dog for an hour or two.

Browndog's head is soon in her lap. This is a very good life.

(end scene)

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Carnival passes at Bergen. Brekke and Frank did their duty, and might have even tormented their lord turned jester as is their duty, though perhaps with less heart than most. Olgar made Keri relax for a little while.

When Brekke participates in the torment of the Jester, it's only to the point of compliance with expectations.

Yes, no more, no less. When the adults return the lodge, they will find several snoozing childlilngs, a skald with some coffee, and Dagmar on duty with a blanket and browndog

Brekke notes the sleeping childlings, and the sleeping Dagmar with Browndog, and gives the skald an eyebrow of query.

"It was a good night. And Dagmar was up for almost all of it. I half way expect her to spring up from the chair"

Kerri, dressed in punk-rock-girl classic with her hair spiked out, seems to have enjoyed the evening, but... "Oh, I am not as young as I once was."

A pat on Kerri's ass, from her husband who is dressed in his best heavy metal gear"Maybe not, but like some of those girls tonight 'you' can dance. "

"Mm." Brekke nods at the report. "Good. Let her sleep. She has done well. You should sleep as well, Torvald."

Kerri gives Olgar a look. "Yes, but I might have strained something. Might need time in the hot tub."

"Mmm okay, we'll see what we can do to..unstrain you, in a hot tub"

Torvald yawns "only because you insist chieftain. The kids were well behaved. Kourtney had a bit of a nightmare but nothing bad"

Brekke's Carnivale garb is not much different from her court garb, and she took off the mask she wore as soon as she returned. Frank came in along with the others, and is now heading up the stairs after a wordless communications between himself and the Chieftain and a brief greeting and thanks to Torvald.

"Torvald," Kerri says, "thank you again for letting us have the night away. Sleep well."

Brekke nods at the report, and looks at Kourtney's sleeping form. "Understandable."

"You're welcome , Hearth"

Brekke watches Frank go upstairs, then says, "I will stay up a bit, Hearth. Go and heal your dance-floor battle wounds." A slight hint of humor, and a nod to both Kerri and Olgar as she gets herself a mug of coffee.

Olgar smiles and guides his wife up. "Night, Chief."

and Torin Torvald stretches "Oh, for the saining day... Hamburgers, Hotdogs, Dr. Pepper"

Brekke settles herself in her customary seat by the balefire, relaxing after an evening of enforced social event.

Kerri catches the food recommendation as they go. "Noted!" she calls back quietly.

Brekke watches the childlings for a bit as she thoughtfully sips her coffee.

Torin tips his hat, and makes his way out, "Come on, Racer." The greyhound follows

"Many thanks, Torvald," she says as the man goes into the pre-dawn light.

"Always, Chieftain" And gone...

It is, Brekke notices, a hold devoid of wilders save for Dagmar

She considers this...and frowns slightly, fighting the frustration at not knowing where Siv might be.

There is a thump. On the roof?