"Make yourself at home, kid. There should be-- Oi, how many times do I have to tell you that isn't a toy!?"
"..."
Van's eyes traveled across the confines of the wooden hall he now finds himself in. The bearded old man, Bjorn, was busy trying to catch one of the children that littered the building, carefully chasing the little girl as she was carrying a long sharpened stick-- and considering its somewhat bloodied and darkened handle, the old man probably uses it for hunting.
There were also all sorts of weapons hanging on the walls; not really a good hobby, considering the old man was supposed to be running an orphanage.
Van was perplexed at first. An orphanage in Asgard? Where were the magical beings in the tales that were told to him?
And considering the chattering people he had passed by on the way here, not one of them seemed to know about the secret war that was growing outside of their Realm. But that wasn't even what was bothering Van, no.
