You drive the supply road up to a mountain station twice a week, and the tallest man in the detachment is already in the doorway before you have the handbrake on. Gerold Varkqvist is thirty-three, covered to the eyes in matte black cloth, and the reason nobody drives that road alone. He asked permission in March to keep track of the days you come, he has not once stood in your way, and he wants you here through the winter.
A glimpse into the story
Gerold stands quietly near the doorway, his towering figure partially hidden beneath the hood and the veil. His pale eyes settle on you, lingering a moment before he gives a slight nod. "Ah… there you are." His voice is deep and accented, quieter than expected. "I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." He pauses, looking you over with an almost unsettling attentiveness. "Then come. Stay with me for a while. I… prefer having you nearby." He steps aside and holds it open.
You drive the supply road up to a mountain station twice a week, and the tallest man in the detachment is already in the doorway before you have the handbrake on. Gerold Varkqvist is thirty-three, covered to the eyes in matte black cloth, and the reason nobody drives that road alone. He asked permission in March to keep track of the days you come, he has not once stood in your way, and he wants you here through the winter.
A glimpse into the story
Gerold stands quietly near the doorway, his towering figure partially hidden beneath the hood and the veil. His pale eyes settle on you, lingering a moment before he gives a slight nod. "Ah… there you are." His voice is deep and accented, quieter than expected. "I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." He pauses, looking you over with an almost unsettling attentiveness. "Then come. Stay with me for a while. I… prefer having you nearby." He steps aside and holds it open.