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

[bonecraft]

The crashing of a horse through the forest is a sound that echoes through the trees, for those used to the quiet and relative somberness. Larger and louder than the deer, the filly sends birds off in startled flocks and rabbits off into the brush. Roesia hears her from afar, the Wind that she was born under bringing the news to her in a delighted song. A horse from the village, and a girl following after!

As strange as she looks to a human, Roesia is still human enough for the filly to recognize her as one. It means that when she steps out of the trees in a steady walk, the horse only starts a little; she is breathing heavily from her run and has slowed, needs to rest. Roesia offers the dappled filly a hand and the horse sniffs into it, her practice with Earth helping ease the startled horse faster and more smoothly.

"Someone is following you, little one," she tells the filly, stroking along her neck and leading her to the creek. Some of the water is still flowing in broken spots, and she lets the horse drink, lead loosely gathered in her hand as she picks up some of the remaining grass to offer to the horse. The crunching of snow draws closer, and Roesia smiles slightly into the Wind that swirls around her face.

"If you're looking for the runaway, she's over here," she calls out to Pippa in the woods, features disguised by the shadows of the trees and the black, hooded fur cloak that she wears.

[wardsdottir]

"If you're looking for the runaway, she's over here."

A voice through the trees; Pippa freezes in her tracks for a moment, some base animal instinct for survival rooting her to the spot. But it sounds like a girl's voice, and not unfriendly. Maybe someone else from the village, out hunting for game?

"Just a minute!" she calls back to whomever the horse's rescuer is, wrinkling up her nose some as she pushes aside bush and bramble in her effort to get all the messy underbrush out of her way. There's a thicket just up ahead if the light filtering through the branches is any indication, and the dulcet tones of a babbling brook, and she makes a beeline for it. "Thanks for catching her, the Saints only know what I'd've done if she'd gone--"

--and as she clears the edge of the trees and stumbles into view, she comes to another unsteady stop and looks with widening eyes from the filly to her eerie woodland rescuer. "...the other way."

[bonecraft]

The villagers and pilgrims all look so plain, most of the time. Sure, some have fancy clothing and gems, but Roesia can mimic their colors with the gifts of the woods, if she so chooses and shiny stones come from the earth here, too. The redhead with her splash of freckles is almost a welcome surprise; not marked by ink, as Roesia has been, but marked by the gods themselves.

Her smile is friendly, even with the widening eyes of the village girl. There's no need to startle her any further, and Roesia gently strokes down the dappled filly's neck.

"I expect her tracks would have been found easily enough; not many horses in the woods," she laughs, gathering up the lead in her hand. "The sound of her crashing about is what had me find her, at least."

As cold as it is, much of Roesia's ink is covered. It's a gloved hand that offers the lead to Pippa, but she's closer now, and the slit cut into her tongue is visible despite the hood of her cloak.

"She's had some water and snacks, though; hasn't run herself too ragged. Doesn't appear injured."

[wardsdottir]

This is definitely the beginning of some sort of fable about the perils of too much pride, of wandering too deeply into the woods on your own, of talking to the beast at the centre of the labyrinth instead of running the heck away from it. Pippa's mother spun all sorts of wild yarns to her older brothers when they were children about what would definitely happen to them if they were foolish enough to cross Sands Creek. The boys grew up heeding her words. (More or less.) But Pippa never knew her mother, and whatever wisdom she might have passed down, it got lost in translation when her father and brothers tried to share it instead.

So instead Pippa stands there, transfixed by the sight of this strange girl all on her own, and mechanically reaches out to take the horse's lead from her as it is offered out. (She catches a glimpse of that slit tongue, too, and cannot not stare.)

"Um," she begins smartly, then clears her throat and makes herself do the responsible thing, and looks to the horse. "That's--that's really good. Thanks," she blurts out quickly and looks back to what she can see of Roesia's hooded features, "for catching her, I'm really sorry for interrupting your, um--walk." All alone. In the middle of the deep, dark, haunted forest.

[bonecraft]

The horse, at least, doesn't seem any more nervous about Roesia or Pippa. Maybe it's the Vice, maybe it's not; Roesia doesn't bother. Instead she smiles at the girl, gently pulling her hood down. The forest is still dark, but there's likely far more for the redhead to stare at, now.

"Oh, not a problem. It wasn't your fault, I'm sure." She's certain, actually, thanks to the time alone with the filly. "Do you need help finding your way out?"

Perhaps she shouldn't offer so easily, but the forest is a strange place. Time seems to pass strangely, and if the girl had been following the horse... well, she's found her. That doesn't mean the woods will let her leave with her. Not alone.

"I gather quite a few things here," she continues, and pulls a basket filled with moss and bark out from her cloak to show her. The forest likes her, and Roesia usually avoids the village - which means she is rather acutely aware, on most occasions, of where it is. "So it's not a bother to get you back in the right direction."

[wardsdottir]

"Do you need help finding your way out?"

"Oh, no, I--" But Pippa stops herself when she looks over her shoulder and finds that her path back through the forest towards the village has... well, 'vanished' isn't the right word. Footprints in the snow can't simply disappear this quickly, but she's positive she hadn't been heading due east, of all directions. Surely the village is to the north? Frowning, she scratches her head and searches the trees for some sign of something familiar. ...Is that north?

"...actually, if you wouldn't mind," she starts and looks back to Roesia with the beginnings of a crooked, nervous little smile at the corners of her mouth. "I guess I got more turned around than I realized." A pause, before she smiles a little more earnestly and says, "I'm Pippa, by the way."

[bonecraft]

"It's easy to do," she soothes, as if Pippa is the startled animal and not the filly. Roesia smiles back at her, tucking her basket away; no need for it to get caught on any branches while they walk.

Roesia steps a bit like a deer, testing the snow with one booted foot, picking out a path around brambles and stones. She seems to know where she's going, at least, though every once in a while she pauses and seems to listen to- something.

"I'm Roesia," she tells Pippa, in response to her own introduction. Her smile is warm, despite her strange appearance, and she keeps turning her head to make sure Pippa and the filly are still with her. "It's nice to meet you."