Valentine
Date: 8th of Frost, 220, early morning
Been just a week and a day now, just roughly, since Hershey first step foot in the cobbled streets of this wood and stone city, and already he was missing the southern winds of home. Hershey was no stranger to cold, of course. Bitter winds blow in harsh no matter where you're standing in Beewood. He's had his mornings where his shoes were frozen to the porch till daybreak, and the man ain't no stranger to frostbite.
Being said, however, the only thing Hershey could think about as he started wrapping up his tent, is how one of the first things he had gotten on learning when he began travelling around this great big country, was just how eager most folks were to share how cold they've gotten back home, wherever that home may be.
Hershey's fingers shook slightly under the cold, making the tent just a bit more difficult to collapse, but that was no real issue that perseverance couldn't solve.
"Odd little phenomenon," he whispered to himself.
Snow went up to my ankles! Snow went up to my knees! Snow covered my front door!
What an odd practice, and always one left unobserved. Almost like a little contest over who's been coldest. Never a competition over comfort, always over trouble, and who's had the most of it. It's hard to even call it a competition, really. Folks just seem to like talking about it. Almost as if every word uttered is meant to impress the folks around you.
Hershey tutted to himself, pulling his posture up straight and landing his hands on his hips.
"Well ain't that just the way." He said, looking over his tidy, cleaned up, backpack-sized accommodations and turning around to the street. He stood behind his roadside stand, which had been planted firmly in the ground there since he arrived in town. He took his time strolling around the streets, of course, always nice to smell the daisies, but never while he was -
"Open for business." He said with a contented sigh, resting his soles up on the desk of his stand and leaning back in his stool. He felt lucky, now, that snow was not tickling his nose at the moment. He tilted his head back and smiled at his horse.
"Ain't that a reprieve, Jedidiah? Just a wonderful morning, yes sir."
Jedidiah was not the most astute conversationalist, nor even was he always cognizant of the social formality known as eye contact. Though, for equine standards, Hershey was certain that Jedidiah was more than polite.
He leaned back into place from atop his stool and smiled up and into the nicer air. The sky was overcast and the air was crisp, but every so often the clouds would be just a bit weaker and Valentine would feel the sun's relieving presence on his thankful skin.
A good day already.
Date: 8th of Frost, 220, early morning
Been just a week and a day now, just roughly, since Hershey first step foot in the cobbled streets of this wood and stone city, and already he was missing the southern winds of home. Hershey was no stranger to cold, of course. Bitter winds blow in harsh no matter where you're standing in Beewood. He's had his mornings where his shoes were frozen to the porch till daybreak, and the man ain't no stranger to frostbite.
Being said, however, the only thing Hershey could think about as he started wrapping up his tent, is how one of the first things he had gotten on learning when he began travelling around this great big country, was just how eager most folks were to share how cold they've gotten back home, wherever that home may be.
Hershey's fingers shook slightly under the cold, making the tent just a bit more difficult to collapse, but that was no real issue that perseverance couldn't solve.
"Odd little phenomenon," he whispered to himself.
Snow went up to my ankles! Snow went up to my knees! Snow covered my front door!
What an odd practice, and always one left unobserved. Almost like a little contest over who's been coldest. Never a competition over comfort, always over trouble, and who's had the most of it. It's hard to even call it a competition, really. Folks just seem to like talking about it. Almost as if every word uttered is meant to impress the folks around you.
Hershey tutted to himself, pulling his posture up straight and landing his hands on his hips.
"Well ain't that just the way." He said, looking over his tidy, cleaned up, backpack-sized accommodations and turning around to the street. He stood behind his roadside stand, which had been planted firmly in the ground there since he arrived in town. He took his time strolling around the streets, of course, always nice to smell the daisies, but never while he was -
"Open for business." He said with a contented sigh, resting his soles up on the desk of his stand and leaning back in his stool. He felt lucky, now, that snow was not tickling his nose at the moment. He tilted his head back and smiled at his horse.
"Ain't that a reprieve, Jedidiah? Just a wonderful morning, yes sir."
Jedidiah was not the most astute conversationalist, nor even was he always cognizant of the social formality known as eye contact. Though, for equine standards, Hershey was certain that Jedidiah was more than polite.
He leaned back into place from atop his stool and smiled up and into the nicer air. The sky was overcast and the air was crisp, but every so often the clouds would be just a bit weaker and Valentine would feel the sun's relieving presence on his thankful skin.
A good day already.
