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View character profile for: Rowan Fox
Seeking out fresh faces (Day of LV's landing, Aurora Creek)
Rowan whistled a delicate tune as he pulled the heavy sled. The trees were thinning out now and he was nearly back to his humble cabin on the outskirts of Aurora Creek. No doubt the ship he'd spotted would have already touched down some time ago. He wondered what business they might have all the way out here, but most likely they were drawn in by the upcoming festivities. Regardless it was a chance to interact with outsiders which -not that he'd admit it- Rowan longed for. He was not really made up for the rural, wood-chopping existence, even if the town was all kinds of pretty. Time was he'd have servants for this sort of graft... but that was a life ago. Regret and nostalgia chewed at his gut but he ignored it. Little use in getting upset over shit he couldn't change.
He had a mind to dump his finds and just head right on into town proper... but the sorting needed doing and it found it difficult to leave the task alone. It'd just eat away at his thoughts, wherever he was. So, those orderly and exacting standards as inherited from a military career kicked in, and Rowan set about unburdening his finds and classifying them into various categories, dictated by an intricate array of handcrafted shelves. It took him the better part of an hour. Doodle had settled herself by the small iron stove and was happily snoozing by the time he'd finished. He stoked the fuel that fed the stove and smirked as the small creature wriggled with playful indignity at being disturbed.
With the work done, the former military engineer felt himself free enough to take a wander into the town. There was always an element of concern for him. The reputation of the Alliance on New Kasmir wasn't exactly stellar, given the rather heinous events that had occurred during the war... and his roots with the Core worlds was pretty obvious, he only had to open his mouth. So his relationship with the true locals was... more of begrudging tolerance than any true form of acceptance. Mostly it wasn't a problem, but if the liquor was flowing strong or tensions were taught, he tended to mind his own since scapegoating was often a natural if unfortunate consequence.
Rowan lifted his fur-lined hood once more and stepped once more out into the cold, hoping some fresh faces might turn out to be of the friendly sort.