fandomtownies | The Lighthouse, Friday Morning

Amaya hadn't come back to the forge yesterday during Fjord's shift. Which... hadn't really surprised him. She'd acted a little bit off, and he had learned the reason why this morning when he'd listened to the radio broadcast.

Amaya had been taken. Amaya was a 'bad toy.'

Amaya. And here he was, in his proper damn mind, skulking about and pretending to be a good toy still, speaking in that damn accent of his and keeping his head down and smiling for anybody who passed him by, and it was enough to cause a nasty twist of something in his little resin chest. He needed to...

Needed to...

He had no damn clue. Go for a walk. Clear his head. Find some familiar ground. And so it was past the port today and up to the lighthouse where, if nothing else, he'd be able to look out over water that seemed to go on forever and step out of his damn head to be back out on the sea. The stairs up were... an adventure, really, given the base under his feet, but it was all the more reason to take a seat next to the light at the top and catch his breath. Settle in for a few minutes. Familiarize himself with the inside of the place, because if nothing else, at least this would be somewhere good to lay low while things were going to hell out there. Figure out if there was anything he could do to help turn the tide.

His brow creased slightly and he frowned as he sat. Wedged under a small ledge under the light, there was a... a something. A nesting doll? He reached for it, turned it over in his hands. Hollow, there was room in it for more, but the painting on it was of a familiar port, the Port of Fandom, a beautiful illustration of the shoreline and water there.

"Now," he murmured, considering it for a moment longer, "what are you all about?"

It seemed important.

It seemed as though, perhaps, he had something to contribute to this rebellion after all.

[OOC: Establishy! Unless you've got a burning need to poke the green boy!]