OPEN ↠ HARING EVENT

[faderifting]

WHO: All
WHAT: WINTER IS HERE
WHEN: Haring 15-Wintermarch 1
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: You can use this post as an event-style mingle log, or just use it as background information for your RP elsewhere!

It's been a chilly month already, but in mid-Haring the temperature suddenly plummets. One day it's merely cold, and the next morning the Inquisition wakes to frost on the inside of the window panes and an icy draft whistling through every crack in the tower's masonry. Downstairs, the pipes that feed the bathing chambers and the kitchens creak in the walls, loud enough to be heard even out in the courtyard, where they run beneath the stones, and around midday, when the sun has failed to raise the temperature above freezing, a blocked pipe finally gives, cracking open to spill water across the central court and send it running down side passages. The whole area floods several inches deep and almost immediately begins to freeze, presenting at first a gigantic, treacherous slush puddle and, after a few hours, a sheet of sheer ice.

Melting a safe path from door to door and laying down sand or wood to keep it from becoming slick again is a simple enough undertaking, but before the entire courtyard can be thawed, someone appears with ice skates—and that’s a better idea, surely, for at least a few days. Anyone who complains about the frivolity can be assured it’s good exercise, not to mention good training for a force that may have to travel or fight on ice in the future.

Temperatures remain cold enough that even some parts of the harbor begin to freeze, first just at the calmest edges of the shoreline, and then the more protected nooks and crannies of the bay, inlets and the spaces between piers and beneath docks. It snows most days--not real storms, just a couple inches here and there--little enough for the window to blow most of it off the icy plain of the courtyard and other wide open, paved spaces, accumulating on branches and in alleyways, and creating growing drifts in corners and against walls.

After a week or so actual chunks of floating ice begin to fill the narrow channels of the harbor, threatening smaller and less-sturdy vessels, and the situation in the poorer parts of the city begins to grow dire. With the Viscount's blessing, Inquisition teams (particularly mages) are called in to help. Some are assigned to the docks, to clear ice that makes landing and unloading treacherous, others to help escort ships into harbor by melting a path ahead. Others are sent into Lowtown to clear ice and snow and to provide warmth and medical attention where needed. At least one mage is sent with each team, and while many neighborhoods are pleasantly surprised and grateful for the quick work fire glyphs make of cold hearths and frozen streets, a few are unable to overcome their distrust, and refuse the teams entry, determined to take care of their own without the help of dangerous outsiders.

In the last week of the year, a true blizzard strikes, snow falling steadily for more than a day, blanketing the city at least three feet deep. Digging out the Gallows will be a group effort, and most non-essential trips outside the base will be cancelled for a few days until travel is less difficult, while those who reside in the city or elsewhere may be encouraged to stay a night or two in the fortress so they might continue to work without traveling through the storm. But on the first day of Wintermarch the First Day feast goes on as planned, with modest but plentiful food and ale served in the Gallows' dining hall for anyone who wishes to celebrate the new year.

Comments

[mactears]

He notices her in the lambent light of the stables, of course, and recognizes her as one of his own number. Yet his each encounter with another Warden has been ripe with conflict, and while it is necessary and unavoidable to sort through it with each encounter, he's nevertheless left with some weary resignation when he senses another confrontation.

Loghain finishes Sooty's rub-down and turns, carrying her saddle, to take it to the tack room. He has to walk past Ciri to do this, and so chooses then to meet her eyes and nod to her once in greeting. "Evening," he says, and aims to slip past her. Primrose, ghosting along behind him, detours to investigate Ciri's boots, her behaviour cagey but not hostile.

[ichaer]

"Evening," she returns, glancing down to Primrose with a half smile. From her spot, Kelpie snorts and hits her hoof against the ground. Perhaps her own sort of greeting? It's hard to tell, or perhaps just something to get Ciri's attention as the young Warden reaches into her side bag and removes an apple from it to hand over.

"There's more in the store room." She says, leaning back some in order to look where he has likely vanished into the tack room. "Apples, I mean if yours is the sort for them."

[mactears]

The wolf-dog spooks briefly when Kelpie paws the ground with one of her hooves, but she’s an intelligent enough animal that she’s able to discern quickly that there’s no immediate threat posed by the horse in her stall. Still, she trots after her master rather than linger; tame, then, but not quite friendly.

Loghain emerges from the tack room to find Ciri offering an apple to him, and looks momentarily taken aback by the gesture. A pause, then, before he nods his thanks and reaches out to take it. “Thank you,” he tells her sincerely. After a moment, he quirks the beginnings of a smile. “...yes, Sooty is fond of them.” He nods to Kelpie, expression admiring. “She’s yours, I take it?”

[ichaer]

Once more, Ciri offers Primrose a small look and chuckles before her focus shifts to Kelpie. The black mare simply snorts and seems much more focused on the apple currently being passed over to someone that was not her. Enough that she leans her head out of her stall, sniffing curiously.

"Of course," she says with a nod before her smile brightens. "Sooty, good name. I like it and yes, this is my Kelpie. The only good thing to ever come out of Orlais."

[mactears]

That brings a genuine smile to the corners of his mouth, and he chuckles. "You'll hear no arguments on the matter from me," he replies; surprise surprise, the Traitor Teyrn still bears no love for Orlais.

He gives Sooty the apple, holding onto it as she lips at it before getting a good grip on it with her teeth. "You're Cirilla, aren't you?" Loghain still has a good head for names and faces.

[ichaer]

And Ciri, at first, only respond by rolling her shoulders tiredly. "I prefer Ciri," she says rubbing the scar on her face. "But you got it in one."

Idly she reaches out to touch Kelpie with soft pets. "And it isn't hard to know who you are considering all the... feelings at the beginning. You settled in yet?"

[mactears]

"Yes, I believe so," Loghain answers, and if he sounds a fraction surprised by this development, it's surely understandable. Given his past, the years of his exile he's spent on the periphery of the Wardens, how could he have expected that both Alistair and Nathaniel would invite him into a leadership position once again?

"I expect it is unlikely that Alistair will ever bear any real kindness towards me," he admits, "but it is... good, to feel that he and I have reached enough of an accord to work together."

[ichaer]

"Good," she replies with a crooked grin. "We got enough infighting as it is and considering how we little of us are here..."

Tiredly, she sighs and leans into the gate with a small look to him. "Ugh. It would have just been terribly bothersome for all that stuff to linger around like a pillow waiting to smother you. Rather like Weisshaupt but not as bad because it isn't in the middle of a bloody desert."

[mactears]

"Would Kirkwall qualify as a step up from Weisshaupt?" Loghain asks, but there's the beginnings of a small smirk at the corners of his mouth as he speaks. Sure, Kirkwall is a shit hole, but it's not a Weisshaupt-level shit hole. Yet.