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

[el_tybs]

Sam hums lightly at the kiss, smiling against Jim's lips when it ends. His brows furrow for a moment at the question though. "Independ-" he starts then stops, rolling his eyes slightly when he registers what the other man is getting at.

"In the middle of Kirkwall? Probably not the best idea."

[universal_charm]

"Well, we don't have to make a show of it," he reasoned. "Our only subjects will be the dog and two cats, after all." He reached up, cupping Sam's face and grinning like a fool, breaking into warm laughter and leaning up quickly to peck his lips. "His Royal Majesty Samouel Gareth does have a rather pleasant ring, yeah? I said it before. I still stand by it."

[el_tybs]

"What a kingdom," he says with a shake of his head. So no longer was he just a 'Dog Lord' but Lord of animals. "Two thirds of the rabble don't listen." Aka Nikita and Leonard, as cats do.

"Your titles are growing extensive. What happened to just King?" Seeing that he wasn't getting much done in the ways of drinking, Sam reaches over and sets his cup down. With hands free it is much easier to place his hands on Kirk's hips.

[universal_charm]

"Well a King should have many long, and fancy titles. It is how one is truly sure they are a king of something very fine you know," he chuckled, twisting to snuggle in closer to him. It all felt very domestic, very homey, but he found he didn't mind it so much. He liked it here, in the quite of their home, warm and happy beside his lover.

"I think I shall take the title of Consort."

[el_tybs]

Kirk certainly looked like a man who didn't mind his current lifestyle in the least, not with the way he was sprawled over the bed, curled up against Sam's side.

Sam makes a small intrigued hum, raising a brow ever so slightly at his lover. "That's the real reason you're trying to give me a fancy title, isn't it? You want an excuse to be called 'Consort'."