[ He's not a stranger to this type of environment. In the midst of all of this, he can be grateful for that much. He'd arrived decently well-prepared, then, and is still clad in the layers of wool and fur that always protected him in the mountains, whether the winter presented was natural or not. The jury's still out on this place and this winter, but that's beside the point.
Still... It could be going better. It could be going a lot better. He'd arrived separate from Sven, so his movement here is far slower than he would like. The terrain here isn't familiar in the same way that his mountains are, either, and his limited knowledge is another inhibition in the face of a very disquieting puzzle.
He's a survivor, though. He's made it this far. He'll just keep going, right? What else is there to do?
The house is in good shape. The glass in the windows is still intact, even, and forcing the door open reveals an interior that's dust covered and sparse, but dry and free from gusts. There's a hearth with dry wood in place. It's almost suspiciously serendipitous, really. He's about to dig around in his pack for his flint and steel when the sound of movement behind him signaled that he's not alone.
He's not exactly equipped to fight, but it doesn't stop him from trying to get some semblance of the upper hand through intimidation. By most people's standards, Kristoff is a large man in both height and breadth. Knowing that, he stands and puts on his straightest, most grim posture before turning to face whoever it is that's decided to share this apparently good fortune.
He's not even sure if the tough-guy act is necessary, here, but better safe than sorry. His face is largely covered with a red scarf, and his voice is a little muffled when he speaks. ]
Kristoff Bjorgman | Frozen | Prompt #3
Still... It could be going better. It could be going a lot better. He'd arrived separate from Sven, so his movement here is far slower than he would like. The terrain here isn't familiar in the same way that his mountains are, either, and his limited knowledge is another inhibition in the face of a very disquieting puzzle.
He's a survivor, though. He's made it this far. He'll just keep going, right? What else is there to do?
The house is in good shape. The glass in the windows is still intact, even, and forcing the door open reveals an interior that's dust covered and sparse, but dry and free from gusts. There's a hearth with dry wood in place. It's almost suspiciously serendipitous, really. He's about to dig around in his pack for his flint and steel when the sound of movement behind him signaled that he's not alone.
He's not exactly equipped to fight, but it doesn't stop him from trying to get some semblance of the upper hand through intimidation. By most people's standards, Kristoff is a large man in both height and breadth. Knowing that, he stands and puts on his straightest, most grim posture before turning to face whoever it is that's decided to share this apparently good fortune.
He's not even sure if the tough-guy act is necessary, here, but better safe than sorry. His face is largely covered with a red scarf, and his voice is a little muffled when he speaks. ]
Are you here to be a problem?