sixthiterationlogs | Another Year of Life

Entry tags:

Another Year of Life

WHO: Margaery
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 7/21
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None

It wasn't something many would accept or celebrate, given how this was seen as a curse to some or a prison to others. While there were difficulties and, quite often, chaos, this place was her home. She couldn't return to Westeros and, for all that she suffered here, she had come to love her life in the village. She and Robb had discussed the idea of happiness and whether or not it was possible. Near a month since then, she felt certain of the answer, reflecting it as she rose from bed to let her animals out to graze.

Maybe she had found happiness? She was alive and had something to herself, something pure and away from the politics of Westeros. It might be small and insignificant compared to a crown, but it was truly hers. Her animals, her crops, they were enough to keep her going during the days. But it was those she had come to know here and care for that brought her genuine joy.

After putting her animals away, she gathered her fresh harvest, creating a large fruit platter for everyone. Spread across were peaches, apples, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, grapes and cherries, grown to that perfect point where there was a mix of tart and sweet. She set the fruit out at the inn, offering a bit to anyone that entered. Seated near the window with Gilbert at her feet and a bit of sewing in her lap, she turned to regard the person that came to join her.

"I have been here a year," she murmured. "I didn't think it right not to find some way to celebrate."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A year is it, Miss Margaery?" A year. A year. She herself had arrived not long before Miss Margaery, less than a month, and a year is something she's been trying to forget about. A year here, without her family. A year, and her birthday's come and gone.

But this is Miss Maraery, so Kate banishes (or tries) the sudden darkening of her mood and smiles. She's been too.... distant, where it matters, Kate has. She's aware of it, she's been trying to get better, which is why she's sat down at the table.

"I think your platter is celebration enough, you've come a long way."

Edited 2017-07-24 00:05 (UTC)

"Margaery," she insisted. After a year together, she would no longer accept formalities from Kate. It didn't matter how long it had been since they last spoke, they were friends. "It is strange to think about, isn't it? There are so few of us left that can remember this village as it was." And how little it had changed.

"I feel I have as well." It was true, something that had been on her mind recently. "Do you remember when I didn't even know how to clean dishes? It was when you were first arranging the lunches we share here."

She set aside her sewing to regard Kate more fully. "How are you? I have seen so little of you?"

"Margaery," Kate concedes. Here, with this woman, now and after all this time, she'll accept the lack of a 'Miss'.

Then she ducks her head, just a little. Her eyes are lowered, and she picks up a strawberry more for something to do with her fingers than anything else. It is... It is a fair question, she has to admit. Particularly from Margaery.

"It has been hard, I think. Since the winter. As you said, so few of us are left from back then. I found the cold took my spirits and yet the sun didn't quite return them. I'm one-and-twenty now, but Ma and everyone else-"

She swallows.

"It's been hard," she repeats. "But, I am sorry for withdrawing."

"You don't need to apologize, Kate." Margaery placed her hand on the woman's arm, trying to offer comfort. The winter had been difficult for them all, especially for those not used to the cold. There had been loss and death during that time, something not all here could remember. Now, so many had gone and the original arrivals were dwindling.

It wasn't difficult to feel somewhat isolated by that. Margaery couldn't allow herself to feel grief, needing some hope in the face of it all. Celebrating might be a bit strange to the others, but this was her life, the only life she had.

But she would never begrudge Kate for drawing away. "You have been so strong through all of this. I understand what it is to be away from family. How are you now? Any better than before?"

Jon often came to the inn to bring game in for cleaning and cooking and when he saw Margaery there, he quickly dealt with the deer he'd killed that morning and washed up, coming over to greet her with a warm smile and an appreciative glance at the sewing she had in her lap. It wasn't something he'd ever be an expert on, by any means, but he'd learned that a compliment went a long way with the women he cared about.

"It has been a year, hasn't it? I almost forgot how long I'd been here. Sometimes it feels like barely a moon's turn and sometimes it feels like I've never been anywhere else."

"You remembered," she smiled fondly up at Jon, remembering the day he had helped pull her from the water. Death and flame had been still fresh in her mind, still present and close by. Jon had gotten her to her feet, found her a home and looked after her until her confidence returned. He had given her strength to chase after her second life, something she had never properly thanked him for.

She set aside her sewing and reached up, pulling Jon to her into a tight embrace. "You are a good man, Jon Snow." He was right though, it seemed that barely any time had passed. "It isn't so terrible here. There are days where I am afraid but...there is a peace we didn't have in Westeros."

Jon held her tightly for a moment before letting her go, a friendly embrace. Margaery had become a close friend over the past year and he was glad to have met her, glad to have helped her survive through this first year in the village.

"I am glad to be away from the politics of Westeros. I worry for the North without their King, I know that they must need me, but this place is a nice respite from constant war and strife."

"Time doesn't pass there, so long as you are in the village." Which had to be a comfort to him. "Your people will wait for you. I only wish I could see the sort of king you will be." Perhaps her grandmother would, at least. The Tyrells were nearly dead, but there was a chance they would ally themselves with another powerful House to punish Cersei.

"It has been a year for you as well." She had nearly forgotten in the moment. "There are so few of us left that remember. I'm grateful to have you here at least." She gestured to the chair. "How are you this day? I didn't hear what happened to you during the earthquake."

"Nothing of real note. I helped a lady named Lucrezia who lives next door to Robb," Jon said, voice catching a little and belying just how much he'd helped Lucrezia. He was fond of her. He'd never been the sort of let a woman catch his eye quickly but she had, in some way, and he felt honor-bound to look out for her.

"She's been trying to clean out the house and make it fitting for a fine lady. I was helping her move things when the earthquake hit. She wasn't hurt, thank the gods, but she was frightened. What about you? I know you don't like them."

He wasn't difficult to read, the shift in his tone catching her attention. She smiled at him, a knowing look in her eyes. "She was fortunate to have your protection." Margaery leaned back in her chair, regarding him softly. "I am glad she wasn't hurt, but you weren't either? Robb went to search for you."

If she could read him, he remembered how poorly she managed earthquakes and where her fear stemmed from. "I was in my garden. Robb helped me inside and stayed with me until I calmed. It was...difficult." The visions had eased, but the pain in her head that accompanied them didn't. "Something strange happened."

"No, I didn't get injured at all. I seem to come out of these things unharmed for the most part," Jon said, shrugging a bit. For some reason, all of the village's tricks and snares seemed to miss him and he was glad to have them pass him by; he did not want to be ill or injured.

"I'm glad Robb was with you. I worried about you...I know you don't like when the ground quakes."

"You have a great deal of luck." Something that she couldn't say for herself or a number of others in Westeros. "So long as you are safe, my mind is eased." Jon didn't fall ill or injured, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

She smiled, touched that he remembered. "You came to help me during that first quake." He had carried her from the house after she had collapsed. "It was...frightening. I had nightmares for a few days, but they were not as severe as before."

Reaching for him, she placed a hand on his arm. "Are you happy, Jon?" After all this time, that was what she wanted for him.

"I have my family here," Jon said, giving her a steady look. "And I have friends here. I am very happy in this place, as happy as I can be while knowing I have duties to carry out back in Westeros that I cannot accomplish while stuck here."

"Having my family here happy and mostly whole is enough to make me content."

"I am glad. What we make of this new life is important. It may be strange and confusing, but it is still a life and with those we love." She glanced down at her mending, a momentary thought that this was all she would ever know while Jon had a life to return to. But it was a brief pause before her smile returned. "If there is at least something to be grateful for, it is that I have had the chance to meet you and your family."

She reached for his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You have been kind and I am grateful. I would not have survived those early months without your help. You are a good man, Jon Snow. Never forget that."

Jon laughed a little. "Well, with you and my sister reminding me of it every time I see one of you, I'm not like to forget it."

Even though he jested, though, Jon took it to heart. He'd done well at taking care of his family here even if it seemed that he hadn't and he should be proud of that.

"Your brother doesn't tell you that as well? Certainly your father does." She leaned her head against her hand, looking at him fondly. "You have so many relatives to remind you that you are a good man, even an aunt now."

Not that she had spoken to Lyanna. It was disappointing, as she was deeply curious about the woman that started Robert's Rebellion. "This world has been good to the Starks."

Itiit was the first of the pair to run up and greet Margaery. He remembered her scent from when the calf had been born and had stubbornly decided that he liked her. The young pig was a little rough in his affections, head butting Margaery's ankle until she gave him something to indicate that she was happy to see him too.

Moana wasn't that far behind him. She had chased Itiiti from her room, following her eager pig to the common area. She was dressed and as usual not wearing shoes but her fingers were running through her hair as if she had been trying to put it up when Itiiti bolted from the room. "Margaery" Moana flashed the woman a warm smile as she finished twisting thick strands of black hair on top of her head.

Her eyes dart briefly to the fruit and then back up to her friend. Had it really been a year for her? Thinking back on it, Moana had been in the village for over half the year now. She wondered if she'd make it the full year too.

"Sorry for Itiiti. How are you going to celebrate?" Margaery already knew Moana's idea of a celebration. It involved food, friends, and usually fire.

Gilbert was at Margaery's side, dozing on the floor. As Itiit butted into Margaery's ankle, the growing pup gave a low growl, not raising his head. She reached down her hand to reassure Gilbert, trying to also brush Itiit away as well. The pig was a great deal more affectionate and aggressive than she thought.

Once he was drawn away by Moana, Margaery toyed with one of the pieces of fruit. "I think as I am now." Sharing fruit with the village and spending the day at the inn. A part of her wondered if she should do something more, but very few looked at this world in the same way she did. Not many would understand why she was celebrating and she didn't want to press her opinion on them.

"Have some." She nodded to the basket. "It is from my garden."

Moana couldn't always control Itiiti. He was a good pig but he often did things on his own. Moana didn't mind, except that one day it won't end as amiably. She shot Itiiti a disapproving grin and decided that he wouldn't get any fruit. At least that way he'd learn not to run up to people and demand their attention. He's spoiled, Moana knew it but it was hard to help when he was so cute.

"Thank you." Her smiled brightened as she reached into the bag and took a bit of the fruit. Moana loved fruit, it was something that reminded her of her island. "Fruit is a great way to celebrate." She spoke with a nod.

There was a brief pause before Moana spoke again. She already knew that Margaery liked it here and she couldn't really blame her either.

"What's your favorite part about the village?" For Moana it was the people she's met here but she knew that it wasn't the same for everyone. Margaery sounded as if she had more to enjoy and Moana was curious to know what that was.

She was hardly one to complain. Her animals were spoiled, not only Gilbert but the farm animals that she had been tending for over a year. Despite her attempt to change her attitude, she still adored her animals as though they were family. Eventually some would need to be taken to slaughter, not only those that had been injured, but she didn't want to think about that yet.

Very few shared her opinion of the village, even she knew it was madness. Yet, after all she built for herself and the direction her life had gone, it was hard not to view the village with fondness. Even if it took those she loved away.

"Many things." She remarked, tucking her feet beneath her. "I love how beautiful the landscape is, despite the Winter. My garden and my animals mean a great deal to me." A small blush. "The people as well. There are so many I would never have met. You, Kate, Jon, Ned, Robb..."

Moana smiled as she listened to Margaery. "It is beautiful here." It was a different kind of beauty compared to what she knew on her island but it was still beautiful. "The people too. I think... no matter what happens. I'm happy to have met the people here." It was one of the reasons why she couldn't regret being here, even if she did miss the ocean.

Itiiti snorted again but Moana ignored him.

"Did you grow all this fruit yourself?" It was amazing and she hadn't realized how many kinds could grow here. Moana was used to tropical fruit that grew in humid and wet climates.

It was a different beauty than Margaery knew as well. It was wild and natural, rather than the gardened and maintained beauty of the Reach. The grass was patchy in the woods, unable to grow fully because of the obscured sunlight and the smell of animals was thick in the air, rather than flowers, but she had come to love it.

"I did." She bit into one of her peaches, the rush of juice sweet against her tongue.

"I was given the seeds a year ago. Now they are blooming and ripe." It was a perfect analogy. "I have cotton and wheat as well."

Moana's expression brightened. "That sounds amazing. I'd like to see it." It was vastly different from the fruit that she knew and she couldn't help but wonder how it was grown. Was it a tree like coconuts or something else?

Itiiti snorted again and this time Moana gave him three berries to gobble up.

"It also sounds like a lot to do by yourself."

"I am surprised you haven't. I planted the fruit trees and vines next to my home. I have roses blooming in front of the porch." When she woke each morning, the sharp smell of blooms and fruit filled the air. She could feel the same ease she did in Highgarden each morning, beginning her day with a warmth that had been missing for so long.

"After so long, I have found a routine for myself. I have help as well. Lord Stark assists me with the animals."

She paused, taking another bite of the peach. "You are welcome to help me harvest, if you wish?"

Moana smiled at the picture that painted in her head. She missed her tropical flowers, bright and vibrant as if they each contained a drop of the sun. She missed the tall looming coconut trees that used to sway in the constant breeze that lifted off the ocean. The grass was as soft as silk beneath her feet and she woke to the rosy light of the sun as it peeked over the horizon. Birds were chatter at each other and Itiiti would skitter about the village, trying to follow Moana.

There was no way for Moana to have places like home here. In the summer, she could pretend but as soon as winter came all those trees and plants would be swallowed up by the frost.

"I’d like that." She spoke with a soft smile. "If it’s really okay to help."

"Of course." She knew how much Moana missed her home and her island. Margaery could understand that longing. The Reach had been as lush and fragrant as Moana's island was described as. Being surrounded by life and beauty like that, it was hard to wake each day and not feel a measure of disappointment. Her garden might be small, but it was blooming and filled the air with perfume. A small substitute, but one she treasured dearly.

How could she not share it?

"Some of these plants are different than the ones you might be used to. I think though that you will be able to tell which are ripe and which ones aren't. They will need to be cleaned and sorted afterwards. We need to make certain that bugs don't eat away at them either. I can show you what I know."

Moana laughed awkwardly. "There is nothing here I'm used too." There were unfamiliar buildings and trees and even the grass was different. It felt like plastic between her fingers instead of the silky smooth text she was used too. There wasn't sand or the ocean the way it had been before.

Nothing was like home.

"I want to see the place that you built here and that you love." She smiled fondly at Margaery. "That place, is worth seeing." Not because it was like home but because it could be a new one.

She nodded, gathering her mending and placed it back in her basket. If Moana wanted to see her home, she would show it to her. "I share the bungalow with Claire. Have you met her?" With the growing village, not everyone would be as acquainted as they would have been in the past.

She stepped out into the sunlight, watching as Gilbert raced ahead. It didn't take long for her to reach home. The light blue bungalow welcoming and warm. There were roses growing up along the walkway, some even climbing up the pillars of the porch. Along the side of the house were several fruit trees and brushes, all sweet smelling and blooming.

"Here it is."

Moana shook her head. "No but I think I've seen her around." She knew most of the people in the village by face, even if they were people that she hadn't spent a great deal of time talking too.

She left Itiiti at the inn before following Margaery to her home. The house looked the same as the others though there was a thick group of roses up the walkway and then trees and bushes that she hadn't seen before. Compared to the other houses it looked like it was taken out of a story book.

"It's beautiful." Moana spoken almost breathlessly as her eyes took in every plant, and flower that called this garden its home.

She smiled fondly at Moana, pausing to pluck one of the roses, offering it out to her to enjoy. "It is a small comfort," Margaery sighed, looking around the grounds with a mixture of warmth and pain. It wasn't Highgarden, but it offered her some happiness. She could wake again to the rich smell of gardens and be surrounded by beauty, all grown by her hands.

"The Observers sent me the seeds and I believe they helped it grow more quickly." One of the few kindnesses they showed her. "I only planted these earlier this spring, once the ground thawed enough. Had I planted it before, it would have been destroyed alongside my first home."

She paused, inspecting one of the peaches for signs of bug bites. "You are welcome to take some of the fruit for its seeds, if you wish to grow some of your own?"

Moana took the rose with a smile. It reminded her a little bit of the flowers from her island though the colors were not as bright as what she remembered. That didn't stop the rose from being absolutely beautiful. Her fingers ran over the petals, enjoying the silky texture of the plant. "Thank you." Her voice was wistful and soft but affectionate and happy too.

It was an honor to be invited into Margaery's world.

"Could I? How long does it take?" She asked as she tilted her chin up to look at the trees. Moana lived at the inn but it would be fun to start a small garden of her own.

"I think it depends on the Observers. Mine grew at such a rapid rate, but that was because of another of their gifts." She couldn't explain it well. She only knew that the quick growth of her plants compared to the other crops indicated that the Observers were somehow involved.

"Of course. Please, take any of the fruit you like."

Everything seemed to be thriving well, which meant they would have more food during the winter, which seemed to be coming steadily closer.

Moana smiled at Margaery before lifting herself a little higher to reach one of the peaches. She had seeds like these but she had given them to Mark to plant for the store houses at the inn, which was where she lived anyway. She also hadn't had the space to grow it herself.

"Have you lived in this house for the whole year you've been here?" She asked as she looked around. Moana tried not to get distracted but there were so many beautiful plants.

"I've been at the inn the whole time." Of course, she hadn't wanted to live alone and she couldn't think of anyone who would want to live with her.

"No, not in this home. I had a different one after I arrived that I lived in alone. There was an earthquake." Her voice was a bit shaky as she swallowed back the initial fear that memory brought her. "It was destroyed."

She plucked another peach for herself, biting into it and letting the juices run down her fingers. "I stayed with the Starks for a time and then I moved here with Claire."

The inn was safer, at least. It withstood so much. "That is a good place to stay. You have others around you."

Moana remembered the most recent earthquake but she wasn't sure if it was the same one. Margaery had been here a few months longer than she had. It wasn't completely ridiculous to think that there had been earthquakes before the last one. "I'm sorry."

She frowned as she nibbled on the fruit that she had taken from the tree. It was delicious and it made Moana wish that she had a home like this. She'd constantly be inviting people over to eat and talk. It was a lovely place.

She wasn't looking forward to the winter. "Yeah. It reminds me of home. A lot of housing was shared so it was always loud and a little smelly." Which Moana actually missed.

Fresh from continued efforts to relocate supplies and poke around the brick house behind the inn, Kira's mostly sit down to rest his feet, toss Aurora every other grape he picks from a stem, and soak up the presence of living, bustling people. Now that the loss of powers has given him a solitude he'd craved, he finds it at complete odds with the constant company of a city like New York.

But the comment pulls him in, and Aurora is more interested in snuffling a greeting into the other dog's side than food. Kira turns slightly in the chair, regarding Margaery over his shoulder: "Have you really?

"I guess that is something to celebrate," he adds, surprised by his own sincerity. Maybe it isn't a place he wishes on anyone, but the number of friends he's made and lost--it's good to know some people do last. He glances down at her sewing: "Are you making a banner, now that you've conquered the place?"

She nodes, considering everything that had happened since her arrival. So much of who she was had changed, so much of her life had changed. She was different now, no longer a pampered lady, but a farmer. Her hands had become rough and her skin darkened by the sun. It was strange to think that she was ever anything different.

"Not all would agree, but it is for me." With no home to return to, this was her life. Why not regard her time here as something positive? It was another year of living, no different than a name day. It deserved some measure of celebration.

She laughed loudly, caught off guard by his wit. "There were others here before me. I cannot conquer this place until they are removed." She gave him a wicked smile. "Some of my gowns needed mending. Come, sit with me."

"Or until strapping young men remove them for you--while you eat fruit," he asks, following Aurora over to join them. His head tilts, a smile playing at his lips for the joke as much as for the joy of her laugh, "That's how I prefer to do things." Not that it ever stopped him playing clever with their girlfriends while they did it. That was half the fun.

While it hasn't all been in the canyon, it's been almost a year since that kind of fun was an option. He doesn't know if he's mellowed with age or just being forced to settle, but here he is--a dog, a fruit plate, and helping a lady with her sewing.

"Do you need me to hold anything," he asks, "I'm not much for crusading."

"Ah," she regarded him thoughtfully, amused by the teasing. "But where shall I find such a strapping young man? There are so few in this village." It had been her method as well once. She had known how to manipulate both Tommen and Joffery to do as she wished, but that was another life and a time long ago.

After a year in this world, it was hard to remember how to play that game. She was still a coquette, but not in the same way she had been before. Now, it only served as teasing and amusement.

"I only wish for your company. We haven't spoken for some time."

"I mean, I have one who chops wood for me, I could pass along some orders if you have them." Though he's far from serious, he doesn't think Tim would even mind. They all find different ways to fill the time in the village, and manual labor is the easiest to come by, if not his preference. "Or maybe you could try for a strapping young lady instead, I've met a few."

Margaery herself might edge into that category, the amount she handled herself--and the length of time she'd been stuck here. Kira wouldn't discount keeping clothing mended, tending animals, or scavenging as lesser work. It's about what he manages most of the time.

"It seems like there have only been emergencies worth getting everyone together for," he points out. "Good or bad for conversation, depending on what kind you're after. How'd you fare in the quake?"

"There are a few I know capable of such things." Ladies would never perform such things in her world, but that seemed foreign to her now. Women needed to chop wood and till the land, otherwise they would not survive. "So many in this village are now 'strapping' in their own way."

She didn't discount herself, having learned several skills she was proud of. She could understand her animals so well now, able to anticipate when they were becoming sick or restless. It was no longer difficult to care for them.

"Not always. Lunch still brings us all together, those of us who want a communal meal." Which she still attended daily. She frowned, still shaken from the earthquake. "My home is still standing and I have no injuries. And you? Was your home damaged?"

She isn't wrong: strapping might just apply to anyone who survives their first month, even given the help the village provides. Before this place, Kira can't imagine setting up a trellis for grape vines, digging a grave, hauling water for drought-stricken crops. It's a bit like the myth of using ten percent of the brain--given enough modern conveniences, people probably only extend themselves a percentage of how far they're able.

He'd still like a few conveniences back, or at least a cheat day.

Maybe that's today, relaxing in the shade of the inn, eating fresh berries. Smudging a bit of juice from his lip with the pad of his thumb, he swallows before replying: "Just some furniture knocked around, maybe a pipe that had to be twisted back into place. I spent a lot of time reinforcing it after the hail, that might have helped. I suppose it's good to know there's a copy of my house across the wall that's untouched."

"A number of homes seem to be untouched." The village survived far better than it had before. She could remember the sound of the ceiling about to collapse during that first earthquake. The remains of her home near the edge of the village. Thank the gods that she didn't need to move again. She had worked hard to make the bungalow hers.

She nodded, that discovery not far from her mind. It had been a shock to all of them.

"It's strange. When I arrived, we had speculated that others had been here before us because of the empty home and roaming animals. Now...someone must have been expecting us."

"Makes sense," he agrees, "one village abandoned, another untouched." With no gap in the wall, clearly the villagers didn't cross onto the other side, unless--

A broken fountain, a sea stretching away from a shore.

"Maybe they did get over there, somehow," Kira thinks aloud, Aurora returning into his orbit, but stopping between his knees to lay her head in the crook of his hip, as if sensing his attention turned elsewhere. "The fountain's broken, even if nothing else is, and they certainly didn't stay here. It's like--they broke the new fountain and moved on, maybe across the water? Maybe they just kept moving, instead of settling in to the new homes."

She wishes it was that simple. "I thought that there had been others here before us when I first arrived. The animals, the homes, it seemed abandoned." It still seemed abandoned, but part of her suspected there was something else to it all. "I think it was made for us, waiting for our arrivals."

It was foreboding and the thought never failed to give her chills. She rubbed her arms lightly.

"We are being watched. Why else are we sent gifts or these strange things happen? I wonder if these houses weren't made for us, readied for our arrivals. After a year in this world, I have seen no sign of other life, aside from what we are given or who comes in. Nothing else. I don't think there were villagers before us. I think it was waiting for us."

It's an interesting take--most of it he's heard or thought before, but the fact that even the signs of previous life might have been faked--it's something to digest. Plucking a berry up from the platter, he tries to help it down a little easier.

"I hadn't really thought about the extent to which it might all be fabricated," he admits. "I mean, the arrowheads, the ruins, yes. But every sign of someone else, that just. I wish it ever felt like we had a grasp of the point. Why they built this, why we're here. You aren't he only one who's been here a whole year, but no one seems any closer to the answer."

"I don't know if it is possible for us to know the answer. Each time it feels as if we are coming close, something changes or something else happens. We are being toyed with and that won't end, even if we somehow find some sort of answer."

It wasn't a comforting thought, but it seemed to be the only thing that was true. "They placate us with feasts and presents, but it isn't long before some natural disaster happens." There was still no clear understanding of why the hail had been black or what prompted the earthquake. It was almost as if it were an act of the gods, but she knew better now. "All we can do is keep meeting and discussing findings and ideas. Perhaps we will learn something after a time?"

"Fewer feasts and presents, recently," he comments. The earthquake had been on the tail end of the heat, a cataclysmic correction of the earth's poles, followed by days and days of rain. Rebuilding had to wait for it to clear, and now night returned, shrinking the hours they could spend salvaging, fixing. Winter would follow, and they still need to work out proper food storage, a final harvest, divert more people to hunting and fishing--but only if they can preserve the meat.

Part of partying as hard as he used to was trouble putting on weight, but he hasn't even been able to make the effort, and the cold is going to cut through most of them when it comes.

"I know you were here last winter," he says, but they hadn't had crops to contend with when he arrived. "But before that--where you're from. How did you guys keep food from spoiling? We won't have snow to chill anything for months yet, and I don't think anyone has enough salt to start packing meat."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Another Year of Life

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject