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Clayton wasn't aware life could be so,- simple.
Ever since Baba Lysaga cursed his bloodline he hadn't spent a day resting, yet every attempt at breaking the dark magic of the hag had failed. Clayton had searched for and attempted the most complicated procedures, none of which worked.
He had lived a complicated life.
After his death, he woke up in a strange place.
A hut, the sounds of birds and other animals he had never heard before surrounding him. One sound overpowered them all.The crying of a newborn, a child with gray skin being held by its exhausted mother.
The steady and loud voice of the new mother rang out: "The child is crying, the child is strong."
As other sounds erupted around him Clayton finally took a look around. He knew he must look out of place in the hut, yet nobody seemed to pay him any mind. A bit less out of place but still very noticeable was the firbolg sitting across the room from him.
No, not sitting, floating.
The massive humanoid was the only one paying close attention to Clayton. Keeping his (Clayton presumed) expression from revealing much of anything.
He looked almost bored.
They stared at each other for a while as Clayton tried to figure out any thought that lay behind that neutral eye.
Finally, Clayton accepted, that staring wouldn't bring him far.
"Hello good Sir, it seems that I am unable to figure out where exactly my current location is. These other people haven't noticed me yet and I do not wish to intrude, so maybe you can enlighten me as to what is going on."
The firbolg stayed quiet for a while, then he spoke in a slow and monotone voice.
"I am Jornir. I do not know where we are, but this one"-he pointed at the newborn, now sleeping in its mother's arms-"is the next one we will be following."
Clayton had no idea what that meant. Why would he follow a random child?
"Following? I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate."
Jornir sighed, that was the most expressive thing he had done so far.
Clayton also notes how it was the kind of sigh that Sheperd often used to express his disappointment and/or annoyance; quiet and long-suffering.
"After I died I followed you. Now that you are dead we will follow this one." His head barely moved towards the child. The voice of the firbolg was weirdly familiar, even tho he couldn't quite locate the accent.
Almost automated Clayton grabbed his Notebook and began to write. He wrote about dying, the possibility to exist after that.
"Can we commune with it?" He didn't look up, too busy scribbling down the layout and materials of the hut they were in.
"Yes. We can talk to him in his dreams. Upon walking he will forget most of it."
Clayton stopped.
Now he knew why Jornir's voice was so familiar. He had heard it in his dreams, berating him in that same monotone way. Clayton had dreamt of a ship crashing and snow billowing all around him. Places that he couldn't remember, places that the clothing of the firbolg was made to withstand.
Memories from a life that wasn't his own.
Clayton continued taking notes.
---
Life on the Makani Islands was simple.
Watching Toa grow up with only the rarely speaking firbolg to converse with, the professor had a lot of time to learn all that he could.
Toa was, ever since he was young, a very Spiritual person. To Clayton that didn't mean much, but over time the firbolg seemed to relax witnessing the goliaths' spiritual journey. It was hard to tell at first, but over time Clayton got a bit better at reading Jornir.
In the dreams, he would often sit back and take notes while Toa and Jornir talked about the spirits and nature. The conversations were mostly one-sided, but Jornir talked more than he would with Clayton.
Life on the Makani Islands was not exactly what Clayton was used to, but it wasn't bad either.
---
Then the Wind Spirits disappeared.
Toa fought hard to prove himself, to properly that he was strong enough to travel far to get them back. Clayton was on the edge of his metaphorical seat. He had witnessed competitions of the Goliath tribe before, but not once had it felt so intense.
He wanted Toa to win, to get to the mainland. Clayton wanted to see how it had changed, he wanted to know what happened. He had to learn more.
Makutu won.
Their chance to go to the mainland left with him. Clayton expected to be the only one upset about this turn of events. He expected Jornir to say something along the lines of: "Such is fate.", and move on.
Jornir didn't move on.
It took several nights of Toa talking with the firbolg, but in the end, they were both on the same page. Makutu wasn't supposed to win that battle. He didn't have the spiritual bond to the Wind Spirits that Toa had. Toa had to go after him.
---
Clayton started to have second thoughts.
He was a renowned archeologist so he was familiar with going on expeditions. Toa seemed very unprepared. He did not know Stryga and Clayton didn't know how much he could help when it came to it. He was excited, yes, but also a bit worried.
Even out here surrounded by nothing but water Toa was as happy as ever.
"What is that?"
Clayton looked over to Jornir, not expecting to hear anything from him for most of this trip.
The firbolg looked intently at something far ahead of them. Taking a few steps forward Clayton narrowed his eyes to see what Jornir meant. He scanned the horizon for a while, but nothing.
Then suddenly a flash of something dark bobbing in and out of the water.
They were getting closer to it when Toa noticed it too and immediately picked up speed. Clayton finally identified what the other two probably already knew was in the water.
A person. A drowning person to be specific.
Once they got closer there was no doubt.
Now they were directly next to them and the goliath reached into the water and lifted the drenched humanoid onto the boat.
The human coughed, shoulders heaving as they tried to get as much air into their lungs as possible. Toa gave them a moment, too busy fishing a red hat out of the water and dropping it on the floor of his boat.
When Toa and Felix, formerly introduced as Steve, decided to stick with each other Clayton was glad. He went on his Expedition to Borovia oblivious to the dangers it may bring. Felix seemed generally suspicious of people which was exactly why Toa needed the human around.
Felix was a voice of reason, sometimes bordering on anxiety, and even after a few days of traveling with Toa something about Jornir seemed to change.
The firbolg talked to Toa again and the words that he said still resonanted within Clayton. "Protect him, he has the potential to be a good companion who shall stay by your side for a long time." There was something in Jornir's voice that he couldn't quite place. Something between relief and happiness, emotions that the firbolg rarely displayed.
Clayton believed Jornir's words because from that night on he began to notice things about Felix, things that reminded him of a time in the past, a person long gone.