[OPEN] 🌿 And I see winter broken like lace

[ofwovenstone]

WHO: Cassandra de Rolo (ofwovenstone), Aella Tabris (fangoffenharel), Lyanna Stark (ylgr) and OPEN
WHEN: December 15th onward
WHAT: Winter shenanigans and general catch-all for the month.
WHERE: Gazin and the surrounding area.
WARNINGS: None other than the usual ones that come with Cassandra de Rolo (potential for talk of trauma, blood, near death, etc).
NOTES: starters in the comments

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⚔️ The warm light still aglow [Feasts]

[fangoffenharel]

She kicks back in the inn most nights, when she’s not tromping around in the snow out in the forest, taking advantage of the feast every other night. Drinking and people-watching and in general carousing and having a good time. She misses Morrigan, though. Even though she would have disdained the feast and all the festivities in town. Hearing her friend’s familiar sarcasm would be... the best damn thing right now.

Instead, though, she sits and drinks and eats and even makes friends. People don’t seem to have the same issues with elves here that they do in Thedas. DEFINITELY not to the same fucking degree. It’s... really nice. And WEIRD. And she kind of doesn’t know what to do with it, sometimes. She can’t help but be suspicious. At least a little. (Look, you have to murder your way out of a shem manor after being kidnapped with the rest of your wedding party you’re going to be a LITTLE SUSPICIOUS.)

[ulfur]

Entering the warm inn after a long day of exploring in the brisk new-winter air, and especially the bounty of food and drink that awaits them there, is a welcome end to the days Ned has spent with Aella. He's wanted to learn of this land, to see much of it for himself, and she proved an apt and willing guide, on foot and horseback and even a time or two on the river and up the western shoreline.

Ned had quickly learned what a good choice he'd made in companions. Capable as she was in all of these adventuring skills, the woman (he still could not think of her first and foremost as an elf) was engaging and full of insight, and not afraid to toss a comment or two his way as he tossed them back.

He brings two mugs of warm mulled cider over to where she's occupied prime real estate before the giant hearth. Handing her one mug, he raises the other and grins as they toast. "I had to pay you back sooner or later."

In truth, though, Aella has helped him get along here too, for they've been able to sell some of the goods they've hunted and collected in their travels, and she knows their value and where to find them, and even more importantly where to sell them. "You've been a true friend to me here," Ned says between sips, drawing close so that their words are only between them. "I truly could never repay all that you have given me."

[fangoffenharel]

Aella’s been here a long time, now. So when Ned mentioned that he wanted to explore and learn more about where he’d found himself, it was easy to offer to be his guide. To show him around. She likes him. Enjoys his company. And enjoys the fact that he can give as good as he gets. Thank fuck. She appreciates that in a friend.

He just... reminds her of Alistair, sometimes. And the memory of his betrayal, the words he’d thrown at her, the way he’d left without giving her a chance to explain WHY are still jagged and sharp. So her feelings about Ned are... complicated, in those moments. But there’s so much more to him than just those fleeting glimpses, and she likes him. Gods help her, she fucking likes him. A lot. Even if everything is screaming at her to not trust him, to not let him get close.

She’s doing it anyway. Despite all common sense.

She looks up and grins at him as he hands her a cup of mulled cider, the warmth of it helping to thaw her hands. “No you didn’t,” she says with a soft laugh. “But I appreciate it. I haven’t had mulled cider in... a really long time.” Since before her almost-wedding. There wasn’t time, travelling as she was, to mull cider. And it’s definitely not something she thought about. Too busy.

There’s something warm and... almost content, in his closeness. “There’s nothing to repay,” she tells him, warmly, taking a sip of her cider. “It’s the least I could do.” She nudges his shoulder, gently. "And I'm glad to call you friend."

[ulfur]

He meets her eyes, lifting a brow at her. "Truly? It is an Autumn staple in Winterfell. And when Winter lasts a year there, we have it at least once or twice a month." He has told her of the seasons in the North, how they can last anywhere from a few months to a few years. How the North always has to prepare for the worst, storing food for years on end. They have near-endless supplies of dried meats and fruits, preserves, fermented vegetables, and beers. Worst came to worst, the old wives said, one could survive on beer for a long time.

He has learned all of this from the maester, the groundsmen, and his father. And soon...he will be responsible for it all.

This season is a reprieve. Ned is grateful for it. He glances at Aella, aware of how near she is, the touch of her shoulder against his, drawing him back keenly to the present. Friend. It sounds good from her lips.

But of course, they give as good as they get with each other. As their sort of friends do. "So you show around every newcomer in town who wishes to explore this land," he teases, tipping back his head to look at her. "Out of the goodness of your heart. A true philanthropist."

[fangoffenharel]

“Truly,” Aella tells him. “I’ve been... too busy to take the time to mull wine.” There are nights after camp has been set up, but honestly, after a day of travel and battling through darkspawn and every bandit who decides they look like easy prey it’s not worth the effort. “Wine out of the bottle is the best I can do.”

She laughs, a bright sound against the backdrop of the bustle of festivities, and shakes her head. “Absolutely fucking not. I’m a pragmatist, not a philanthropist. But it’s not something that needs to be repaid. Your friendship, and your company is plenty.” She smirks, dark eyes bright and impish. “But I certainly won’t turn down a drink now and then.”

[ulfur]

"It is a more domestic task than you could afford most days," Ned says with a nod. She has told him a bit about her travels back home, and they remind him more of a hedge knight's or sellsword's life than the days he spent serving at a keep. "Let's enjoy it while we can."

The warm mug feels good beneath his fingers, the wine warming him from the inside. He drinks slowly, gaze drifting from the room around them and all the lights and people celebrating within it, to Aella beside him.

Her sailor's mouth no longer surprises him. It is still a contrast to her sweet gamine's face, but Ned is quite used to it by now. He smiles back at her at the assurance, genuinely pleased. And one brow lifts at her in return. "It is a very fair price. A drink now and then, for multiple expeditions." Ned hums, considering. "I begin to doubt this pragmaticism you boast of. Or perhaps you have a very long and sinister plan in place." Amused eyes gaze back at her from over his mug.

[fangoffenharel]

“Would have been nice, though, when we were up in the Frostback mountains,” Aella replies, taking a sip of her wine. “That sounds like a very good idea.” That has been her entire approach to being here, away from Thedas, and the Archdemon, and darkspawn, and saving the fucking world. Enjoying the reprieve while she can. Even if she feels sometimes as though she’s betraying her companions by being here.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she is content and relaxed, a warm mug of mulled wine in her hands and good company beside her, surrounded by celebration.

She smirks at him from over her mug. “Not that I can’t play the long game, but I’ve learned to appreciate a good drink and better company, that’s all.” Worth its weight in gold, anymore. “Besides, it’s nice to have someone to explore with. I’ve gotten used to it.” Without Zevran, and Sten, and Morrigan, and the rest, it’s... quiet. Lonely. Even if she’d never admit it to them.

[ulfur]

Ned swallows and smirks back. "The wine is very good," he comments. He'll take the compliment on his company. "It cheers me to have someone to enjoy it with, too. In addition to my sister's, of course." But she is off having her own adventures at the moment, without her big brother to tie her down, or a lover, or most tellingly, a father and mother with expectations of the grand match she'll make.

"Good," he says quietly, reaching across and squeezing her arm. "I would not want to intrude on the solitude of your travels if that is what you would prefer. But it has been a very great privilege to have such a knowledgeable guide here."

Ned lets go and sips again. His gaze turns faraway, reflective. "If only there were a godswood here," he says thoughtfully. "I used to pray every day before the sacred tree in it. We call it the heart tree, in Westeros. I have not felt quite myself without that ritual." He meets Aella's eyes, not apologizing for his beliefs but wondering if she had any of her own to relate to.

[fangoffenharel]

Aella can’t help but hide a laugh in her wine. “That’s one thing Gazin has in abundance. Good alcohol.” But her dark eyes are sparkling, and her smile is fond. “I do hope she can join us one of these days.” His sister seems fun. The sort of person who would get on in Thedas just fine.

She covers his hand with her own for a moment. “Believe me, if you were intruding I would have no problem telling you.” He knows her. She has no qualm with telling people what she thinks. She can be diplomatic about it, and kind, when it’s someone she likes and cares about. But she has no problem with saying it. “But you’re not. I have plenty time to ride out on my own. And I enjoy your company.”

She takes a deep sip of her wine, meeting his gaze. “You would like the Dalish, I think. They’re elves, like me, only they’re nomadic, seeking to preserve and recover the knowledge and treasure of the fallen Elven kingdoms. They’re more in touch with nature than those of us elves who grew up in the city alienages. We do what we can to honour the old ways there but it’s... different, than the Dalish. I met one of their clans in Brecilian forest.”

As she’s talking she’s thinking. The way he talks about the godswood... “There’s a place. In Vasari forest. It won’t be the same as your godswood, I don’t think. I don’t know that anything could be. But maybe it might be close? Somewhere you can go to pray, at least. Away from Gazin. In the quiet of nature.” And then, before she can stop herself, before she can think and shut the hell up, she continues. “Go with me. To Roselake. And then I can show you the copse of trees when we get back. Roselake is supposed to be a mystical place, different for everyone who goes there. But it’s also just... really fucking pretty.” She hasn’t spent a lot of time there, but she’s ridden that way, on those days where she itches with inactivity, too used to travelling, too used to being busy, too used to DOING something.