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

[ellrigaeta]

And it is that sobriety that catches Lorne off-guard enough that another errant snowball almost completely escapes his attention. Lorne spots movement out of the corner of his eye and only barely has time to turn and attempt to jerk out of the way. The snowball still lands, spraying his shoulder and the exposed skin on his face yet again, which is a step up to having it hit his ear.

...the Shepherd definitely distracted him to help the kids. This occurs belatedly, confusion registering over the fond resignation at being pelted with snowballs for the next little while, and he spares the man a faintly incredulous look. Surely if he's willing to assist in a snowball ambush, this Shepherd won't begrudge Lorne disbelief.

He'll have to examine that later; more snowballs are following the first, and since they've no longer the element of surprise the children have resorted to quantity over subtlety. There are more of them than Lorne, but he does have the boon of superior aim and arm strength on his side. Unlike them, however, he's not aiming for anyone's head. That would just be unfair of him. If there's a smile on his face, it's patient and one he's practiced at minimizing - Lorne has long been accustomed to the shenanigans of younger children.

[shepherddain]

By contrast, Dain smiles like he's never needed to practice subduing it. The children squeal in delight and manage to completely avoid anything that resembles teamwork as they dodge unsuccessfully and try to retaliate. There may be more of them, but it's pretty clear who's going to win.

Dain scoops up a handful of loose snow and packs it slowly between his hands. One of the reasons he's never enjoyed working with a partner is the obligation not to get involved in situations like this -- the dangerously stern look he'd receive, the penance he'd need to do later. None of that is on his mind now as he whistles innocently from his spot on the side of the snowball fight, rolling his own snow gently from one hand to the other.

"I'd offer to help," he says apologetically, "but it seems you're doing a little too well on your own. Really, it would be my duty to join in."

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne is willing to admit some surprise that he's actually winning by any measure, but he's got at least a decade and a half if not two on all of these children, and clearly a better grasp on strategy and leading aim. Running around isn't going to help Lorne much given the depth of the snow, either, so he largely stays put and manages to dodge or bat down most of what comes his way. Not everything; it's possible he lets a few more snowballs through his defense than if he were trying to get them all. The ones that won't hit his head, typically.

The Shepherd's 'innocent' whistling is anything but-- who ever whistles like that and is actually innocent, Lorne has to wonder. The accompanying statement only raises Lorne's suspicions that he's about to get a snowball to the face from a Shepherd but this runs up against his existing understanding of Shepherd behavior. This is likely the only reason Lorne does not immediately turn Dain's way to throw a pre-emptive snowball in his direction, and instead snaps his head back and forth between children and Shepherd several times while his worldview struggles to catch up to this new information.

[shepherddain]

Dain hesitates, worried for a moment that he's misjudged and put himself in a difficult situation -- cruel to drop the snowball, mean to throw the snowball.

But they are, after all, in the middle of a snowball fight.

He throws the snowball.

It's not aimed for Lorne's head, at least. It's more chest level. And from the way Dain's weight shifts in the aftermath, it's obvious he's expecting a return barrage, and equally obvious that he welcomes it.

[ellrigaeta]

The Shepherd throws the snowball and it whacks into Lorne's side. Now Lorne can assuage the warning bell in the back of his mind about the possibility of bringing unwelcome attention of the church. The Shepherd started it.

That's a spectacularly childish argument, he's aware. Lorne is an adult and can make better choices than any child. He's also getting snowballs lobbed at him on two fronts, and he is not nearly as good at throwing with his off-hand. This just got more complicated and not only due to the involvement of a person Lorne still can hardly believe is there.

All the same, it's only a few moments before one of Lorne's snowballs is sailing right back at Dain, aimed at his torso. He doesn't wait to see if it lands before scooping up more snow to toss at the children again. Today is going very weirdly.

[shepherddain]

It lands, alright. It sprays a spectacular shower of snow down Dain's front, and it makes him laugh, and scoop up some more snow from the ground.

This is not how he expected his day to go, either -- but it's a very, very welcome bit of joy.

The children, emboldened by all these recent successes, very quickly turn on Dain and each other, in the time-honoured tradition of every man for himself. It's not long before they're moving off, pushing each other into snow drifts, happily seeking some other bit of fun elsewhere, and Dain is left with snow all over his shoulders and hair, freezing cold and beaming warmth.

"Thank you," he says breathlessly. "I needed that. I hope we didn't take too much of your time?"

[ellrigaeta]

By the time the snowball fight devolves into a free-for-all and the children scamper off, Lorne is pretty well covered in snow, too. Obvious patches of it where snowballs landed cling to his cloak, warmed some by the exertion. His breath comes in quick puffs, fogging up in the cold air, and he's smiling more with his eyes than his mouth. Force of habit. The bemusement about the Shepherd hasn't gone away, either, but Lorne thinks he wouldn't be smiling like that if there were problems to come.

"Not at all. I'm not on a schedule," Lorne replies with a shake of his head, brushing snowflakes off of his clothing. There are definitely small trails of melted snow running down his neck. He should invest in a hat. Several questions are on the tip of his tongue, but he's still a bit uncertain about where the ground lays with this Shepherd. What is or is not appropriate has gone out the proverbial window. He trudges across the few feet of snow between them and holds out a gloved hand. "Lorne Ward. And... you're welcome, I suppose."

Beat. "I'm surprised that you..." Lorne trails off, gestures instead to the disturbed snow all around them to indicate the antics.

[shepherddain]

Dain's lost his hat, or at least the scarf he's been using as a hat, somewhere in the scuffle. No doubt it's buried in snow. He'll find it later.

"Johannes Dain," he replies in kind, shaking Lorne's hand. "I go by Dain, most days. It's a pleasure to meet you." He sounds like he means it, too, rather than simply following an introduction script; it's always a pleasure to meet someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously. Gods know he gets more than enough of that in Fairport.

"... that I what?" For a moment Dain looks utterly confused, following Lorne's gesture to the disturbed snow all around them. "That I lost my scarf? That's quite -- oh." Right. Of course. Maireglenne, Path of Light, penance, witchcraft. Several minutes of carefree fun in the snow had gone quite a ways in erasing Dain's memory. Back to the real world now; he straightens, loses the smile a little.

"Life is difficult enough without teaching children they're never allowed to enjoy themselves," he explains. "We usually try not to let our hair down, as it were, but... I admit, sometimes I can't pass up the opportunity."

[ellrigaeta]

The fact that Dain had gotten so caught up with the snowball fight not to think about his position, and that by comparison Lorne had been, says quite a lot about Dain. So too does the easy way he introduces himself. Lorne is a little bit regretful that he's reminded Dain to be more serious, though he's well familiar with the mantle of duty. Perhaps too familiar, seeing as he's barely cracked a real smile this whole time.

"That's a philosophy I can get behind. It's refreshing," Lorne says. For a Shepherd, he does not say. He's accustomed to dour and grim faces, not fun. Ever. But Lorne has witnessed the hardship children have experienced in this village and elsewhere, and people who are kind to children in an unkind world are worth paying attention to. "Shepherds usually keep their distance," he adds diplomatically. "And adults here are often so fed up with snow, year after year, that it's hard to take any enjoyment from it."

Speaking of hair being down, Lorne glances around for the missing scarf. "I imagine you didn't plan to be stuck here for the winter. Are you staying with the vicar for the time being?"

[shepherddain]

Dain's never been very good at keeping his distance, both for legitimate and for indefensible reasons. He doesn't say that out loud, though, even in a village so far away from everything else and choked by snow for six months out of the year. Even though it's just been about as obvious as it can be.

He does laugh about the latter part. "I certainly didn't," he admits. "Strictly speaking, I'm not meant to be away for so long, but there's nothing anyone can do. And yes, Father Normand was generous enough to offer me some room at the chapel." Dain pauses, studying Lorne, a man so ready to stoop to childish enjoyment, but without the ready smile that usually comes with such a penchant. "And you? You're clearly not so fed up with snow. Are you a seasonal traveller as well?"

[ellrigaeta]

The corner of Lorne's mouth twitches up, the barest suggestion of a smile. "No, I grew up here and started plenty of snowball fights when I was their age," he answers, a touch wry. "My father is the magistrate. I've been living in a nearby village for a number of years and decided it was time to come back home."

Ah - he catches a glimpse of cloth beneath some kicked-up snow and goes to retrieve what turns out to be Dain's scarf. He shakes it out a bit to get most of the snow off, but it's going to be wet and chilly and therefore basically useless for its intended purpose. "You'll probably be able to send word of your status with one of the messenger birds; there aren't many and they can't fly during storms, but it's better than nothing." Lorne holds the scarf out to Dain. "In the meantime, you may wish to go somewhere warm before you catch a cold. The tavern sometimes has hot cider."

There is the lilt of invitation in Lorne's tone without words actually getting involved. He's Officially Curious about this Shepherd but doesn't want to be nosy.

[shepherddain]

"Ah, Magistrate Emery Ward." Dain's heard quite a few things by this point, and all of them good. In fact, not many people have had a bad word to say about anyone living here. Quite different from Fairport, and very refreshing.

It also serves as a good reminder that many of the people Dain speaks to in this village will be related to each other in some form or other.

He makes a mental note about the messenger birds, takes his wet scarf back, and glances longingly towards the tavern. It's not quite time for a break yet, but it is rude to ignore an invitation, and he wasn't counting on getting soaked with snow when he planned his day. "Yes," he answers slowly, "I think I will. They say you'll grow accustomed to the cold in a matter of days, but I'm beginning to think I'm the exception to that rule."

And then, both an offer to pay and a brief clarification in case Dain misunderstood: "Would you like some as well?"

[ellrigaeta]

Around here most everyone knows him as his father's son, which isn't at all a bad thing, but Lorne is hoping he'll be able to leave his own mark now that he's older. Being away for a few years might help with that; he'll find out soon enough.

He huffs out a breath of amusement. "People saying you'll adjust to the cold is probably wishful thinking and a desire to get through winter faster. If you want to be practical, buy an extra layer or two of warm clothing if you have the coin for it."

Lorne inclines his head in acceptance - at least the invitation. As much as he has no particular reason to keep himself out of such a petty debt with a Shepherd, Colin and Camilla are on his mind. Good luck paying for him, Dain. "Sure; the tavern's the best place to pick up news even if there's no cider to be had. I haven't been home for some time," he elaborates, gesturing down the street and beginning to walk towards their destination.

[shepherddain]

"I have a newfound respect for people who choose to live here, then," Dain replies. "It's freezing, every day, and still they find the wherewithal to reassure visitors that everyone gets used to it in the end. That's some strength."

Hopefully there's a fire going as well as cider. Dain isn't wedded to the scarf, but he's wedded to the concept of not being cold anymore.

He knows the tavern's location well by now, standing tall on the side of town closest to Sands Creek. It doesn't take long for them to approach it, and it's warm enough inside that one can feel the difference the moment they cross the threshold. Dain gives Lorne that opportunity first, standing back to hold the door open, wide enough to enter but not so wide that warm air escapes out into the wintery street.