Winter Schnee (
specialist_snowflake) wrote in
genessia2018-07-19 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Winter in July
WHO: Winter Schnee, OPEN
WHAT: Winter'shermit ways fruitless search for the missing royal family continues. This is how she passes her time in a multitude of super fun scenarios!
WHEN: July 1st - 31st
WHERE: Fayren
A. Town Trader
Though most of Winter's searches took place in the vast stretches of wilderness across the kingdom of Fayren, she still came into town once a week or so to buy supplies. When she entered, she always had a snowy white Ursa trailing behind her, carrying the goods she'd gleaned from destroying the monsters and menaces that made the mistake of attacking the specialist. Teeth, hide, stolen treasure and loot that couldn't be traced back to an owner... She always had something she could barter or sell.
In addition to purchasing the necessities for travel in the forests and mountains, she also set aside a packet of red bills addressed to Johnny Storm. Each payment came with a single note, written in elegant calligraphy: 'Thank you. --W.S.'
It would take time to pay him back, but the payments were steady, and delivered via the post.
She stopped at the magic shop, inquiring about magic scrolls or potions that might allow one to detect secret passages, but no one seemed to have any such spells at hand.
"Looking for something, young woman?"
Winter turned a cool gaze on the bejeweled fortune teller, who smiled a toothless smile and crooked a gnarled finger at her.
"You seek divination magic, yes? Auntie Ruby can help you find it. Love, wealth, power...a lost trinket, perhaps?"
"I don't have time to waste on charlatans," Winter narrowed her eyes and continued her brisk stroll. She had far better things to do than listen to some swindler, how gullible did that woman expect her to be?
B. A Happy Camper
Winter was easier to spot during the spring and summer months. Her snowy hair and distinctive uniform stood out in the greenery of the forest, when she wasn't taking pains to move in stealth. She seldom had need to do so; better that any would-be bandits learned to avoid messing with her the hard way. Even though she was no longer the royal captain of the guard, she had no qualms hauling troublemakers back into town to see them thrown in the dungeons for their crimes. It was better than allowing them the freedom to rob someone less capable.
When she rested, her campsite was small and neat. A tent, the occasional fire, and a few hidden trip alarms to prevent unsavory creatures from sneaking up on her.
Most of the time she took refuge near the streams so she could wash her uniform and refill her canteen. At dawn, when she was least likely to be encountered by other travelers, she bathed herself in the cold, crystal waters. Lack of contact with civilization was no excuse not to maintain her pristine appearance, and she would not appear unwashed or unkempt under any circumstances. It was, perhaps, the only time she let her hair down where it clung wet and pale to the nape of her neck and the slim curve of her back and shoulders.
Anyone who was unfortunate enough to stumble across her at this time, intentionally or accidentally, would likely result in the same dire fate: she would come for them with her blade drawn.
C. Heat Stroke
There was only one occasion in which Winter returned to town with nothing to sell. She had overestimated her limits and pushed herself too hard in pursuit of a particularly ruthless pair of marauding bugbears. They'd paid the price, but so had she. She was dehydrated, nauseous, and light-headed. It would be foolish to continue camping in hostile territory so long as she remained in a vulnerable state. The wisest option would be to take a break from her search, rent a room at the inn, and rest.
Most of the time she remained in her room, drinking plenty of water and keeping a cool, damp cloth applied to her forehead. She emerged only for meals which she ate alone as promptly as possible.
Winter disliked being anything less than hyper-efficient. It was a blow to her pride, and a reminder that she still had more to learn. Even so, she had no intentions of relying on anyone to care for her when she was capable of doing it herself.
Much as she knew she should remain still, she had run out of Ice Dust, and found it necessary to make a quick trip back to the Remnant subarchway for more. It was one of the rare times where one might find her looking less than pristine -- flushed in the face, short of breath, fingertips pressed to an aching forehead, or even leaning against a tree or building for support when she was taken by a dizzy spell. Heaven forbid, there might even be a lock of hair hanging loose after escaping from the tight knotted bun she traditionally sported!
WHAT: Winter's
WHEN: July 1st - 31st
WHERE: Fayren
A. Town Trader
Though most of Winter's searches took place in the vast stretches of wilderness across the kingdom of Fayren, she still came into town once a week or so to buy supplies. When she entered, she always had a snowy white Ursa trailing behind her, carrying the goods she'd gleaned from destroying the monsters and menaces that made the mistake of attacking the specialist. Teeth, hide, stolen treasure and loot that couldn't be traced back to an owner... She always had something she could barter or sell.
In addition to purchasing the necessities for travel in the forests and mountains, she also set aside a packet of red bills addressed to Johnny Storm. Each payment came with a single note, written in elegant calligraphy: 'Thank you. --W.S.'
It would take time to pay him back, but the payments were steady, and delivered via the post.
She stopped at the magic shop, inquiring about magic scrolls or potions that might allow one to detect secret passages, but no one seemed to have any such spells at hand.
"Looking for something, young woman?"
Winter turned a cool gaze on the bejeweled fortune teller, who smiled a toothless smile and crooked a gnarled finger at her.
"You seek divination magic, yes? Auntie Ruby can help you find it. Love, wealth, power...a lost trinket, perhaps?"
"I don't have time to waste on charlatans," Winter narrowed her eyes and continued her brisk stroll. She had far better things to do than listen to some swindler, how gullible did that woman expect her to be?
B. A Happy Camper
Winter was easier to spot during the spring and summer months. Her snowy hair and distinctive uniform stood out in the greenery of the forest, when she wasn't taking pains to move in stealth. She seldom had need to do so; better that any would-be bandits learned to avoid messing with her the hard way. Even though she was no longer the royal captain of the guard, she had no qualms hauling troublemakers back into town to see them thrown in the dungeons for their crimes. It was better than allowing them the freedom to rob someone less capable.
When she rested, her campsite was small and neat. A tent, the occasional fire, and a few hidden trip alarms to prevent unsavory creatures from sneaking up on her.
Most of the time she took refuge near the streams so she could wash her uniform and refill her canteen. At dawn, when she was least likely to be encountered by other travelers, she bathed herself in the cold, crystal waters. Lack of contact with civilization was no excuse not to maintain her pristine appearance, and she would not appear unwashed or unkempt under any circumstances. It was, perhaps, the only time she let her hair down where it clung wet and pale to the nape of her neck and the slim curve of her back and shoulders.
Anyone who was unfortunate enough to stumble across her at this time, intentionally or accidentally, would likely result in the same dire fate: she would come for them with her blade drawn.
C. Heat Stroke
There was only one occasion in which Winter returned to town with nothing to sell. She had overestimated her limits and pushed herself too hard in pursuit of a particularly ruthless pair of marauding bugbears. They'd paid the price, but so had she. She was dehydrated, nauseous, and light-headed. It would be foolish to continue camping in hostile territory so long as she remained in a vulnerable state. The wisest option would be to take a break from her search, rent a room at the inn, and rest.
Most of the time she remained in her room, drinking plenty of water and keeping a cool, damp cloth applied to her forehead. She emerged only for meals which she ate alone as promptly as possible.
Winter disliked being anything less than hyper-efficient. It was a blow to her pride, and a reminder that she still had more to learn. Even so, she had no intentions of relying on anyone to care for her when she was capable of doing it herself.
Much as she knew she should remain still, she had run out of Ice Dust, and found it necessary to make a quick trip back to the Remnant subarchway for more. It was one of the rare times where one might find her looking less than pristine -- flushed in the face, short of breath, fingertips pressed to an aching forehead, or even leaning against a tree or building for support when she was taken by a dizzy spell. Heaven forbid, there might even be a lock of hair hanging loose after escaping from the tight knotted bun she traditionally sported!

C. Heat Stroke
..Actually she looked like the holo-ghost from the beginning! How strange! Regardless the girl approached, worried]
Miss? Are you okay? Do you need help..?
A, first week of July (during his honeymoon)
He was obviously running his own errands in town, haggling with one of the merchants for bread and cured meat.
He halted mid-sentence when he caught sight of her distinctive white hair and uniform. "Winter. I... did not expect to run into you here."
B. Happy Camper
[One morning, Liora is chasing after a particularly elusive grasshopper, hopping after it very much like a frog. Also like a frog, she'd try to snatch it with her tongue, only for it to evade her attack once more. With a soft growl of frustration, Liora continues her pursuit. She's so focused on catching this bug that she may accidentally wander too close to Winter's camp, and may accidentally trigger one of her trip alarms...]