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

[dashing]

Herian nods her understanding, holding her silence for a moment as she reflects, before finally committing her thoughts to voice.

"Expect too much of us, when we symbolise so much that is terrifying? With us came the Dalish that brought a forest to life overnight, and... as wondrous as that is, and as beautiful a symbol as it could be, I think there must be something terrifying in it for many people, let alone those in a city with so complex a relationship with magic. We work with the Wardens, we are host to rifters who... by reputation with the common folk could well be demons, as much as you or I may understand it better. Our politics is as varied and vibrant as possible. We played our part in Orlais, and when we visited Nevarra there was an attack on their sacred resting place of the dead." And no matter how strange and uncomfortable their ways are to her, it was a sacred place, and the matter of the dead was something of a raw one, even if it does not impact her visibly in this moment.

There is no judgment in her tone, but neither is she emotionless. Careful control, and a laying out of facts as if they were chess pieces on a board. "Whatever they might expect of us, it may be the fear that we will leave them worse than when we arrived. Whatever good will we can win in Kirkwall, we must do our all. We cannot win a war in a world where even our neighbours fear and distrust us."

And it is the right thing to do, she wants to say, but given her living through an annulment, she has a certain degree of pause of what the right thing to do might mean in the eyes of a Seeker. Orders are followed, aye, but they are not always right or just or kind.

A faint smile and she gently starts to scritch along Milady's shoulders and back. "If all else fails, Milady can doubtless win over any who doubt us."