(no subject)
Who: dontgiveafock and whomever cares to join him.
What: Sheltering by the fire.
When: Any time from mid-morning on the 23rd onwards.
Where: The bonfire outside the Chapel.
The bonfire shot embers high into the darkness, throwing its wavering light across the snow drifts that cloaked the paths and the green. Around the fire itself, the snow had melted, frozen and melted again, leaving the ground bare, cold and damp. Someone had dragged wooden benches from within the chapel and heaped them with quilted blankets, though there were few enough that people would still likely need to share.
As close to the fire as was safe, Joe sat heating a pot of soup, the dark haired man casting frequent glances off into the black. It wasn't that he could see anything, but the knowledge that people he cared for might of wandered into it didn't sit well with him at all. There was little Joe could do save to call out from time to time in hope that his voice might draw a straggler near.
Nearby, rolls sat in a basket and eggnog in an iron kettle. Potatoes, mashed and buttered and peppered with bacon, stood warm and covered in another iron dish. A small trove of the delibirds' boiled candies almost spilled out of a pottery jug and further afield, buttered corn kernels in a pan promised popcorn.
The night was cold and dark, but here at least there was a cozy little camp and the promise of safety. Forgive that the man at the center of it was a little more serious than his usual self.
[OOC: Log 1 of 3. Choose which fire you'd care to visit and tag around party-log style. Please tag yourselves.]
What: Sheltering by the fire.
When: Any time from mid-morning on the 23rd onwards.
Where: The bonfire outside the Chapel.
The bonfire shot embers high into the darkness, throwing its wavering light across the snow drifts that cloaked the paths and the green. Around the fire itself, the snow had melted, frozen and melted again, leaving the ground bare, cold and damp. Someone had dragged wooden benches from within the chapel and heaped them with quilted blankets, though there were few enough that people would still likely need to share.
As close to the fire as was safe, Joe sat heating a pot of soup, the dark haired man casting frequent glances off into the black. It wasn't that he could see anything, but the knowledge that people he cared for might of wandered into it didn't sit well with him at all. There was little Joe could do save to call out from time to time in hope that his voice might draw a straggler near.
Nearby, rolls sat in a basket and eggnog in an iron kettle. Potatoes, mashed and buttered and peppered with bacon, stood warm and covered in another iron dish. A small trove of the delibirds' boiled candies almost spilled out of a pottery jug and further afield, buttered corn kernels in a pan promised popcorn.
The night was cold and dark, but here at least there was a cozy little camp and the promise of safety. Forgive that the man at the center of it was a little more serious than his usual self.
[OOC: Log 1 of 3. Choose which fire you'd care to visit and tag around party-log style. Please tag yourselves.]