Vittorio by the campfire, playing with his many pendulums and necklaces he gathered from the trials he's faced. He looked deep in thought, as if he was questioning his whole existence, although, who in the fog wasn't?

He swatted a fly or mosquito away as he etched symbols in the dirt with a stick.

"Odio questa merda!" He huffed as he kicked the hieroglyphics that were carved into the dirt and caused them to be unreadable.