Frostbitten

The City of the Great North
praetorian
Posts: 46
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm
Guild: Rogues
Temple: Shadows

Frostbitten

Post by praetorian »

His boots sank into the white plane covering the plane, nose red, snot oozing. His cheeks were in a bright red pigment, like the lips of the women of the night in the unspoken recesses of South-end Devardec. The sky, modulating between forms of grey, lied still and heavy: this is the meat locker.

Up through the square he walked, after pacing through Frostfall all evening, welcoming the numbness. Risking the cold. It was especially bitter. Not the time of the calendar for the frivolous trappings of youth. It’d been hours. The passer-by inquiries about the under-dressed Dark Elf’s state of health, the suggestions to find shelter both became frequent enough for Prae to imagine how unwell, frostbitten he must have looked.

The wall of welcome heat enveloped him and there she was, stocking a shelf. A repeated witness to the brutality of winter, Julienta met the Dark Elf’s entry into the shop with an assurance that he needn't speak a word, and gave a swift command to have a seat and that she had just the thing for him. That she would be back in a moment as she had to get something from the back. He acquiesced, warmed by the shades of fire, thawing. His fingertips began to blister, the redness of his cheeks lost their charm as skin hardened, jaundiced. He was beginning to feel there pain he knew was already there. This is the North.

She rushed out, a small vial in her hand. Her own compassion circles her like a vulture in the desert sky who eyes a feast of innocence that is already beginning to wane. She tells him it’s severe frostbite and that it claims the life of many travelers to Frostfall, especially underneath Saman the Water Spirit. That he should stay, warm up and let the potion work.

Maybe for just a little while.

Return to “Frostfall”