EVENT : Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

[caffeinified]

Starting a week before Christmas and into the new year, snow will start to fall. Amazingly enough, the city of Itinere never truly becomes snowed in. The snow continues to fall, but it remains in pristine perfect condition on the ground and in the air. One might even call it a picturesque gift from those who allowed people into the city. If you were dreaming of a white Christmas, you got one. The city is even decked out in garland and lights and ribbons and bows. The town square has a massive Christmas Tree that towers over the city. Don't ask how many lights it took to decorate it, no one knows.

Tis the Season, Itinere.

As with most things in Itinere, there's always a darker side. What would be the fun in a straight forward snowfall effect, after all? Build a snowman. Take a sled ride. Slip and slide in the wintry goodness. Catch snowflakes on your tongue. Wait. Hold the presses. Anyone who ingests the snow in any way will find themselves anywhere from unable to tell a lie to completely unable to stop over-sharing on everything. The effectiveness of the snow will vary from person to person. The amount of time the person is infected will vary too. Our gift to you: the special snow.


ooc: The snow will stop falling and melt away by the end of January. As always, feel free to create your own adventures with this snow either in this post or make your own post in the IC comm. There is a plotting post HERE if you want to make use of it. Also, be sure to look at the post anyway for ooc information you need to know.

Comments

⚜ ( closed to sean kendrick )

[orphaned]

[They end up at the barns. (As though there is any other place for them to be, in the middle of a blizzard.) Sean is working on gentling the more nervous thoroughbreds, and Puck watches him, waiting for her turn to gentle Sean. Thick woolen blankets are spread out in an empty stall across from the one which he occupies now, and an electric lantern balances on a post, casting an orangey pool of light on the rest of the things she'd snagged from their apartment before the snow had really begun to come down.

She'd taken one look at him and begun to pack for the next several days.

Now, Puck's fingertips brush against Sean's forearm and continue – up, up – until her palm is curling around his shoulder from behind. She wants to tell him to eat something; she's brought sliced white bread and butter along as a treat (even here, things like that still feel special) along with more sensible staples. Instead, she asks if he's ever ridden Corr in the snow. They didn't get a lot on Thisby, and what they did get, the rain usually washed away or froze within a day, but sometimes Puck feels so starved for stories about Sean – and Corr had been his one good thing for so long, that she figures it's okay.]

[anemonely]

[ It wasn't as if he could leave the horses alone for that long. They'd be restless and hungry, needing water and the soft murmured conversation that's spoken more in horse than in man.

Any other girl would be jealous of the horses; they'd tell him he's being ridiculous. Of course, that's why he's not married to any other girl.

He bows his head at her touch, eyes closing, looking (likely) much like one of his horses when he lays his hands on them. He takes a deep breath at her question and shook his head. ] Never snow like this. [ But then she'd know that because they'd never gotten snow like this, not back home. The suggestion of a smile twitches one corner of his mouth. ] Once it was sleeting so hard his mane froze, my fingers tangled in it. He never flinched. I think he thought it was the ocean.