OPEN | this winter brings all the cold to the yard

[northcliffpass]

𝕒 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝

surprise!

I. Snow!

A mere week after the grisly discovery in the Deep Forest and the subsequent dispersal of the eerie spectral visitors, all Northcliff Pass residents wake one exceptionally frigid morning to find themselves buried under several feet of snow. It is of the light and fluffy variety--at least for now--which provides no shortage of entertainment for the village children, and means one is less likely to throw one's back out while trying to shovel it clear of doorways and the streets.

That is your first order of business, as it happens: free yourselves from your wintry entrapment. Or don't, if you've got enough food and drink squirrelled away in your tiny peasant house that you don't need to venture out into the elements. The world is your cold, shitty, socially stratified oyster; ditch your responsibilities, sleep in.

II. Fete! at ye olde tavern

All Souls' Day came and went, and nobody can really be blamed for forgetting about it what with the ghosts and the gloomy business of seeing to the bodies. All that aside the Hammer and Spoke seems especially welcoming that first wintry night, once all the snow shovelling is finished and the streets are clear enough for foot traffic again; lit lanterns glow warmly outside the door, and from within come the sounds of joyful music. Fiddles, whistles, a drum, and plenty of laughter; it seems the snow has stranded a troupe of minstrels in the village, which means at least two or three nights of great fun for village residents.

In truth it will take more than a few nights of drunk mischief to lift the pall cast across the village after the previous month's discoveries, but maybe that's why so many people gravitate to the light and levity and warmth of a party. After such a close call with so much death, it's good to remind oneself that there's joy in the world, too.

III. Cramped Quarters

The nights might be filled with good company, food, and drink, but during the day the village has to contend with another frustration: the roads in and out of Northcliff Pass are closed until the snow melts.

This is a common experience--in late December, January, and February. Not so much in November, when farmers are preparing to take their surplus harvest and livestock down the mountain to Cliffside, or when caravans with schedules to keep to are preparing to head east towards Woodsedge. (The only road clear in that direction is guaranteed to take them past Turn--something no one wants to risk.) Even a few late-season pilgrims have found themselves stuck between Gods' Reach at the summit of the mountain, and the creature comforts of Cliffside below.

There's nothing to be done for it, of course, except to endure the unusually crowded streets, the lack of vacancies at the tavern, and the occasional herd of sheep or goats picketed in very odd places.

Comments

[sampler]

I. Snow! Closed to Detlef

The morning brings snow for the town and a choice with DIRE CONSEQUENCES for Detlef.

On the one side is Farogil. Technically he's on his stomach, having dragged Detlef over him in the night, less like a 'big spoon' and more like a 'fourth blanket'. Faro is a heavy sleeper and can be obstinate and sour when he wakes up before he's ready. He is definitely not ready to be awake.

On the other side is Moose. The fire dwindled down to embers overnight so her basket beside the hearth is colder than she would prefer. A snowdrift blocks the window shutter-turned-catflap so she can't slip out to beg for or steal some breakfast either. Moose knows her favorite humans are upstairs but she's shut out by the bedroom door. So she cries at the door and scratches at the wood with increasing desperation. And volume.

What will it be, Detlef? Rescue a lonely kitten from being mildly hungry and uncomfortable but risk a grumpy boyfriend, or stay warm and comfortable and listen to a few minutes of shitten yowling before she realizes she can go curl up with Lord Sneak?


III. Cramped Quarters, OPEN AS HELL

Once the doorway's cleared and the snow trampled down in the road, Faro's actually secretly grateful for the sudden snowfall. Business isn't booming like it was during the peak of pilgrim season, but it's better than it was last week, what with all the ghosts. Now there was a bunch of people stuck in town with nothing to do and a craving for somewhere warm. The snow gives him a captive audience of prospective customers!

If only he was a good salesman. He tries, though, and spends most of his time in his shop like usual.

iii.ish

[befitted]

After about the fifth hour of hearing Farogil's teeth chatter, Leala sets her sewing down.

It isn't the first time she's set down what she's been working on - more than once or twice, she's gotten up to get tea or more supplies. This time, however, she comes back with a warm chestnut-colored cloak and drapes it over Farogil from behind.

"There's gloves as well, when you're not using your fingers," she tells him, and then goes back to her seat and picks up the cloth she was working with.

Re: iii.ish

[sampler]

The chattering is the fault of whomever told him he was wearing too many layers. They didn't specify how many was too many, so when he dressed to go help her with an order, he overcompensated the other way. Farogil's thickest hose, heaviest tunic, and wooliest hood were sufficient to get him there, but he's not been able to escape the chill that set in during that harrowing 2 minute walk.

"Oh, thank you," he murmurs as he draws it around his shoulders, arms drawing in tightly so he can tuck his fingers under his biceps for a little extra warmth. "Ssorry. We- never had snow like thiss in Cliffss- back home. I'm woefully unprepared."

[befitted]

"We didn't in Southsea either," she tells him, smiling as she watches him tuck the cloak around himself. "Luckily I was here on pilgrimage, so I had prepared to be sleeping outside."

Luckily, also, that her mother had been a seamstress and had bundled her up with extra clothing. Things to sell, things to offer the gods, and things to keep her safe. It had worked well enough, all things considered.

"It was awful last year," she adds after a moment of thought. "We were snowed in. Rather literally."

[keenly]

The door to the little shop opens and Colin waves a small amount of white linen in greeting. Once he's inside, the door is shut tightly.

"Doing all right?" he asks.

[sampler]

"Surviving," he laughs from his spot behind the shop counter. Farogil's right next to the backside of the hearth so he's got pretty much the warmest spot in the front of the building. He still looks snug as fuck with a big cloak over his shoulders though. "And you? Ovens keeping you warm enough?"

Is he jealous? Maybe a little.