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

[ferruginous]

Well, yeah, the snow has probably made him sick that's what the cold does. But Fíadh just lets that go, as he seems adamant about something while dragging his gloves off. So she stares and waits until he reveals an embroidered ribbon. Fíadh gently grasps it with her fingertips as she gazes over it wide-eyed. Delicately she runs her thumb over the figure of the horse, decided in her mind right now that obviously it's Lil' Gregor. It's probably a solid silent minute before she looks back to Faro.

"This is amazing."

[sampler]

That awestruck silence is probably one of the greatest compliments he's ever received. To her it's amazing. To him it's something he made in an afternoon using thread scraps. As tidy and sturdy as any of his work, but still a quick and cost-effective project.

Her silence also gives him time to get his gloves back on and free up his mouth. "I can sew it to something if you like. A favorite shirt or hood?"

[ferruginous]

Fíadh blinks at him. Then blinks again. Sew it to something?

"Why?"

[sampler]

He blinks back at her.

"For decoration?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that is probably not something that matters much to her, at least not in those words. "So others can see it and you can see it when you are about without fear of losing it."

[ferruginous]

"Oh ..."

It's not exactly something she'd think about, but hey she's trying to get better at art, right? Of course she also wasn't expecting him to just be blatantly selling her something. But she's not really put off by it, she did express interest earlier. She ruffles through the coin pouch on her belt.

"How much?"

[sampler]

As she reaches for her purse, he holds up a hand and shakes his head. "No no, it's a gift! In appreciation for your appreciation."

Anyone who looked at his work the way she did deserved to have her own piece of art. Plus maybe she'll want more, and those she could pay for. Or she could talk him up to other people and be free advertising!

Or maybe its just because they're pretty much friends at this point.

[ferruginous]

Fíadh stares in a look of absolute confusion, the abacus in her mind isn't quite adding up. Gift? Why a gift? She's done nothing to warrant a gift. She hasn't even managed to fix her damn grindstone yet to do something for him. Gifts are exchange for deeds not purchased, right? Appreciation isn't a worthy deed it just ... is.

" ... What do you want for it?"

Maybe if she continues on that line of questioning he'll start making sense.

[sampler]

Okay, one hand held up to pause didn't help. So he holds up both, palms towards her, and waves them, as if she's running towards a cliff and he's trying to stop her.

"Nothing. It's a gift. Truly."

[ferruginous]

"I don't-hmph-This isn't-"

Faro might have broken her brain with this because it just ... doesn't make sense. But she also realizes that she might just have to accept it. For now. And figure out a good way to pay him back. Even if he says he doesn't want it he probably does.

She runs the ribbon through her fingers again as she contemplates all this.

"Fine."