sixthiterationlogs | mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

WHO: Kate Kelly
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 15th August | Noon
OPEN TO: E V E R Y O N E
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: All sections are completely free for all! You can handwave your character helping out or thread it out, or just jump in to them eating. All characters are ICly invited, as they are every day. In light of the illness plot, feel free to use this post as an excuse for your characters to catch ill or spread the plague around.
STATUS: Open and ongoing!

Rain, hail, shine; blizzard, earthquake or lightning storm, the meals at the Inn have continued. People can, and do, wander in at breakfast and supper - as long as the stores are enough for three meals, anyway - but the main meal remains the one at midday. It's this meal which is the main event that Kate structures her day around, making sure volunteers arrive to help prepare, serve, and then clean; double-checking that there is enough food for all, that stores aren't too low and that fresh greens have been gathered. With the village chickens now producing eggs regularly there's a welcome addition of protein to the foodstuffs, and by now there are a number of experienced cooks in the village. At least, experienced in the ways of cooking communally and with what's on hand.

The main room of the Inn is swept, dusted; cutlery and bowls, plates are laid out on the sideboards in piles to be collected as people need. Everything is as it should be, even if some people - Kate included - are feeling a bit under the weather. But that's to be expected, isn't it? Everyone gets run down, has a day or two of feeling off colour. Certainly, it's nothing to worry about.

So come on in, help at the kitchen or pull up a chair at a table and enjoy some warm food and company while the outside confusion stays firmly outside.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Neither has Hawke, honestly, but at this point she's more than willing to make up anything. As long as doing so will help keep her spirits up. And those of the people around her.

"All right, I promise not to overdo the snow. What weather do you prefer?" she asks conversationally.

Luckily for Wanda, Hawke is the queen of small talk and she's good at talking about absolutely nothing, especially when no one else wants to.

Wanda laughed again as she looked over towards Hawke. "Snow. I grew up in a colder climate." She had felt like death during the heat and while the weather was nicer now, she continued to prefer colder days to warmer ones.

"What about you?"

She spoke as she began to systematically rinse the large pot. Wanda tried hard not to waste the water or have to go get more.

"Ferelden always had a cooler climate than most," Hawke allows, "but I suppose I got used to Kirkwall. I like a nice neutral temperature, though I guess if I can't have that, then something closer to snow would be what I'm used to. Look at that. We have something in common."

Some days she does miss Ferelden, but she'd gotten so used to Kirkwall while she was living there that it was hard to imagine living anywhere else. Or having any other weather, even if she had gone to the Orlesian desert recently.

Edited 2017-08-28 17:07 (UTC)

"It's the same for me. Solvakia is very gold. There is always snow on the ground. Since moving to upstate New York I've missed it." It was still cold in the northern parts of New York but it wasn't the same as Slovakia which was closer to Russia and the north of the hemisphere.

"My brother used to start snowball fights." She smiled at the distant memories. That had been back before they lost their parents. "He was a sore loser."

"One of these days, I need to have everyone draw a map of their homelands," Hawke says with mock irritation. "I'll even draw one of Thedas." Not knowing what anyone is talking about with these names is very frustrating, even if she doesn't let it get to her.

The mention of a brother makes her pause visibly as she finishes drying the little things, waiting on the next big one. She glances at Wanda after a moment or two, debating how much to say. Carver is such a sore point for her, the beginning of her life in Kirkwall. The end of the three Hawke siblings. The twins no more. Something in the tense Wanda uses makes Hawke think that maybe they have something else in common.

Something far less pleasant.

"I had a brother, too," she says softly, her voice a little wistful with the memory. Ten years have passed and she still misses him every day. "If he had ever been the type to play, he probably would have done the same thing. Thrown snowballs at me just because he could. Maybe Bethany, too."

Wanda didn't really consider herself as someone with a homeland. There was the place she was born and then there was the place that she lived and finally the countries that she visited. Earth was her home but without her brother it didn't matter where she was, it was always a little empty.

"Peitro could never sit still." She spoke absently, her voice soft and affectionate but pained too. It had only been two years since his death and then whatever time she had spent here. It felt raw at times. You never forgot the death of a sibling, more so a twin. Wanda had felt him die.

"You had two siblings?" She asked in a soft voice, inquiring with a yes or no questions instead of asking for specifics. She'd listen but Wanda knew how hard it could be to talk about.

Hawke isn't even sure if Kirkwall is her home anymore, not after Meredith and Anders, not after having her heart broken by so many people she had thought to trust. Not after the city nearly fell twice and she blamed herself for everything. Still, Thedas is as much of a home as she has ever had and she could draw what she knows of the countries and land within.

She's quiet for a few moments after the question before she answers, choosing her words with precision borne of pain. Ten years have passed and sometimes she can still see the ogre throwing his body aside like a rag, used and discarded and unwanted.

"Yes. Bethany and... Carver. They were twins. Bethany has always been the nicer of all of us. Carver and I never really got along, but... he was the only brother I ever had. He was still my family."

Wanda felt her heart constrict at Hawke's words. "My brother was my twin." She had stopped washing dishes and was looking at the water she used to was away the soap. "He was 12 minutes older than me. Never let me forget it." He had died saving Clint and a young boy. She wanted to tell Hawke but the words turned to ash in her mouth.

She coughed softly before running her hands over her jeans.

"I'm done here. Did you want to show me that dance?" She didn't know how much more she could talk about. The fact that a version of Peitro had showed up here had thrown her off.

Hawke won't press. She knows what it's like to mourn a sibling, not a twin but definitely a sibling. And she's lost both of her parents and could easily have lost her sister. She knows how much that sort of pain hurts.

She's the type of person who would drop something to distract herself and whoever is with her from whatever it is making them upset and that's exactly what she does now, the spoon sliding from her fingers and clattering on the floor. "Oops. I guess I should wash that." She'll do it, to save Wanda the extra effort, and by the time Wanda says she wants to go, Hawke has it dried.

"Sure, why not?" Hawke agrees, putting the spoon away and leaving the towel for the next person. Stepping out of the room, she leads the way outside, where they can at least have a decent time of dancing and making fools of themselves.

mingle | we have bread and fishes and a jug of.... well, herbal tea.

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