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

II

[engravitas]

Kit has gone off to socialize, as Kits do, which means Ben is left alone in his little corner. He bears the distinctive look of someone who Does Not Want To Be Accosted, so upon spotting Fiadh, he carefully picks up his drink and shuffles over to sit in the corner near her.
He doesn't say anything, he knows what this is. He trusts her not to either. Their relationship is intuitive like that.

[ferruginous]

If someone were to look closely in clear light they might notice the small spark of a smile crinkle at the corner of her eyes as Ben approaches. Or it could be some dust kicked up from all the comings-and-goings of the tavern.

Look maybe, maybe, she's making a ... amicable acquaintance.

She sits in their usual silence for a bit before she remembers she does actually have something to talk to him about.

"I met your friend. The other carver."

[engravitas]

Ben's eyes shift toward her and he waits for elaboration. Good?

[ferruginous]

"He's going to rebuild my grindstone cradle. Finally."

And that's ... really it she guesses. She's not going to try and posit on his personality or anything without knowing him more. So, there, elaboration.

[engravitas]

"Mm."
A little nod which becomes hidden behind his cup as he takes another drink. Yep, Kit's sure doing that.

[ferruginous]

"Is he any good?"

Might as well get the information from the source. She has a feeling he'll be honest if she's about to get a very, very temporary fix.

[engravitas]

This seems to strike a cord.
"Of course he's good," Ben snaps, glancing at her like he can't believe she'd ask such a foolish question. "He's rebuilt half this ramshackle shitheap."

[ferruginous]

Her face remains impassive to his outburst, and it's hard to tell whether she really took notice of it. The way she continues without a change in tone seems to say: no, no she didn't.

"Then I know what to expect."

[engravitas]

"That's right." Ben lifts his mug to his mouth again, looking judgmentally out at the dancers. So long as we're clear.

[ferruginous]

Crystal. Probably.

Fíadh matches Ben's motion by taking a bite of her meal and following his gaze to the dancers. Yep sure are dancing. She's content to sit in companionable silence until whenever one of the two of them inevitably gives an Eirdhlish goodbye.