Post by Admins on Aug 16, 2021 15:41:26 GMT 10
This thread is a bubble of time of the Holiday: The Harvest Festival - that falls on the week that includes the 17th of August. This festival is about the final foods being pulled in on wagons, the equipment being stored and the trees beginning to be shook of their last fruit. This concludes in a very serious bout of partying where they finish up any preserves from last year, including alcohol, jams, stored foods in a boozy feast.
Anyone can reply. It will initially be set in The Fools Pride, Verge. Posts may be made around it - leading towards it, anywhere around it. Make sure you lead with your location in the post and you can be just about anywhere
The Fools Pride Main Floor - Verge
Early Evening / Twilight
The sounds of creaking machinery, the final grinding of the windmills and the flapping of canvases over top of haybales. The shouting of the end of day seems lighter and more jolly than usual. Tomorrow is not a day of work, it is not a day of mourning either. It is, finally, a day of rest and celebration. To the gods for their bounty and to their families for the hard work in collecting it.
The Fools Pride has Tasha obediently preparing for the upcoming revelry. Each table has a long hollowed out gourd with sweet smelling spices and candles lit within the spaces. Big dusty kegs from last harvest are rolled from the cellar. Peeling labels have concoctive descriptions: Suan Farm Apple Honey Bourbon, D'Ambreville Sweet Mead with Elderflower notes. Stacks and stacks of historical harvesting. The kegs are each unique to the families, the type of wood, the burn marks, the corking.
Tatienne sits on the floor in sort of modified waitress style outfit. A checked skirt, corset vest and voluminous white satin shirt. Her deck box glints in the light, strapped to her dark leg, thick black leather boots with slouchy tops pushed down to show off her leg tattoos. Marking off from a list that Tasha had handed to her hastily, happy to have something to do - in the corner of the bar, on the floor. Arts and crafts were safer than the carousing that was starting in the main room. Dark lips twitching at the singing getting louder, to combat the shouting above it, so the singing increases. The eternal fight between bardic arts and gossip.
Even in the other room, the spicy gourds and candles decorate the space, dark woolen knitted strings crisscross the ceiling and are bedecked with dried leaves and flowers, a sort of maroon, black and dark red spiderweb for beautiful things. One was being erected above her and she shifted to avoid the legs of a stool, sliding beside her.
Anyone can reply. It will initially be set in The Fools Pride, Verge. Posts may be made around it - leading towards it, anywhere around it. Make sure you lead with your location in the post and you can be just about anywhere
The Fools Pride Main Floor - Verge
Early Evening / Twilight
The sounds of creaking machinery, the final grinding of the windmills and the flapping of canvases over top of haybales. The shouting of the end of day seems lighter and more jolly than usual. Tomorrow is not a day of work, it is not a day of mourning either. It is, finally, a day of rest and celebration. To the gods for their bounty and to their families for the hard work in collecting it.
The Fools Pride has Tasha obediently preparing for the upcoming revelry. Each table has a long hollowed out gourd with sweet smelling spices and candles lit within the spaces. Big dusty kegs from last harvest are rolled from the cellar. Peeling labels have concoctive descriptions: Suan Farm Apple Honey Bourbon, D'Ambreville Sweet Mead with Elderflower notes. Stacks and stacks of historical harvesting. The kegs are each unique to the families, the type of wood, the burn marks, the corking.
Tatienne sits on the floor in sort of modified waitress style outfit. A checked skirt, corset vest and voluminous white satin shirt. Her deck box glints in the light, strapped to her dark leg, thick black leather boots with slouchy tops pushed down to show off her leg tattoos. Marking off from a list that Tasha had handed to her hastily, happy to have something to do - in the corner of the bar, on the floor. Arts and crafts were safer than the carousing that was starting in the main room. Dark lips twitching at the singing getting louder, to combat the shouting above it, so the singing increases. The eternal fight between bardic arts and gossip.
Even in the other room, the spicy gourds and candles decorate the space, dark woolen knitted strings crisscross the ceiling and are bedecked with dried leaves and flowers, a sort of maroon, black and dark red spiderweb for beautiful things. One was being erected above her and she shifted to avoid the legs of a stool, sliding beside her.
