kingdomcomes | A Little Winter Atmosphere

A Little Winter Atmosphere

[Winter arrives slower than usual, thanks to the Snow Queen's mid-year horny spell giving her a bit more time before her libido kicked back in. But now she is returning to the fullness of need. And that's where winter comes from.]

[This time, the Kingdom is better prepared to engage in the usual yearly orgasm denial of a goddess. Winter clothes are easier to come by, and every public hearth has some hot something-or-other simmering away. There's a coziness and comfort as farmers retire for the winter, and herds provided all the oats and meal they need, but that doesn't stop them from rooting through the snow for withering crispy treats.]

[Not that Guards are allowed to actually wear clothes or take full advantage of that cozy warmth, heavens no. Not everything is about sex even under the Mistress' reign. Sometimes, it is about Control. She figures everyone should suffer some nipple chafing and shrinkage as a character building exercise, so they get to have some extra shifts outside.]

[The native guards will take to using the snow to prank the Apprentices in as many ways as they can dream up: anything from convoluted plans to hide extremely fresh soft snow in your entire wardrobe, to the more direct approach of "one gets you in a lock while the other dumps snow down the back of your clothes." The off-worlder guards are encouraged to join in the bullying, at least in passing. They won't actually be targeted with snow, though. Call it a token of respect, perhaps.]

[Hey Outliers, having fun out there in the snow being poor? Haha, suckers. But hey, maybe you can make some money running errands, or performing services out in the cold? Or even... "services." At least you probably won't freeze to death. The townsfolk will generally keep an eye on you, unless you're an unpleasant jerk. Then have fun being dead, nerd.]

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[She opens her mouth to make a sharp retort, then closes it again, and sighs.]

That choice is past me, I fear. Chilling bruises goes only so far.

What duty have you here? You are not knight, nor noble. [Why are you even here to offer stupid advice?]

[He's self-employed and bored.]

I find the best way to acclimate to a new environment is to thoroughly explore and catalog it. That includes the area around the castle, whether the Mistress would approve or not.

[Besides, all he's doing is making sketches and the like. He's not here to assassinate anyone and considering the high volume of assassins they really shouldn't bother sparing any time for him. It's not efficient, you see.]

If I spent all my time in the village doing nothing I think I'd lose my mind.

[He has a point. But also, stop having a point. It's rude.]

I should think the best way to "acclimate" to this environment would be to bank up a fire and work indoors for a while.

...Can I see? [The sketches.]

[But there's nothing Stanford Pines likes more than having a point!

Except maybe people looking at his art and telling him it's good. Which it is. He can draw damn-near photo-realistic when he tries. He turns the journal around and holds it out to her; it's on his notes about the castle and the guards, of course. There is a fairly in-depth screed about how impractical the guard outfits are. Because... look at them.]

Yes you may.

[Damn. Another point for Stanford Pines. Because, as someone who's constantly picking a leather thong out of her ass, Éowyn is remarkably well-placed to confirm that the outfits are indeed really goddamn impractical.]

[She scans the page quickly. His sketches are good, certainly, and his notes are...]

...Is that...?

[Did you seriously write down the guard rota in your weird spy-book, Pines?]

[IT'S RELEVANT INFORMATION! You can never have enough information on scheduling, alright? And he has friends in the castle that he might like to visit without getting yelled at.]

Is that what?

How long have you been watching the guards here? [Wow, that's a lot more hostile all of a sudden.]

[... Uh.]

Today, or in general?

[Open mouth, insert incredibly-muddy boot.]

[You know, as answers go, that's actually quite an informative one.]

[Which is not good for you, Ford. She closes his notebook, and reaches out to clasp his shoulder.]

Come with me. [That is not the tone of a request.]

[Haha okay. So. Ford Pines is not always the best at parsing tone, but he has definitely heard the words 'come with me' said with that particular air of threat before. What he can't instinctively intuit he knows via learned association. He may, in fact, be in trouble.]

I wasn't aware that taking notes was a punishable offense.

[Buddy maybe just

Maybe don't--]

And would you not think it questionable?

I think we must have words, you and I.

[What did he literally just say about information gathering. Gosh. Jeez. He totally wasn't going to try to assassinate anyone. Not that he couldn't, probably, but it's also a lot of trouble to go through when the Mistress isn't actively inconveniencing him.

On the other hand this might not be so bad. Like, what, a spanking and then he gets sent on his way? That seems in-line with the general tone of this place.]

If you think it's necessary.

[He's gonna just... take stock of this. He's pretty confident he is not nearly at the point where he can't get out of it if he has to.]

[She nods towards the nearest entrance and starts walking, still holding onto his shoulder. If she's honest, she'll be glad to get in from this cold - although if anyone suggested that's why she's doing this, she'd be horrified. She's being zealous because she's damned sure nobody else is, that's all. Someone has to actually do their job around here.]

To the dungeons, for now at least. I imagine you know the way. [That was a bit snide.]

[Yeah, a bit. Jeez.]

Would you believe I've never actually been there? This will be the first time.

[Which, thinking about it and about how long he's been living here, is pretty damn impressive.]

We'll see how it compares to other dungeons I've been thrown into.

[She gives him a scathing look as they head for the stairs.]

And it did not strike you to try another approach, after the first few?

Many of my arrests have been for breaking laws I wasn't even aware of. Did you know that in some worlds it is punishable by law to wear clothes or exist in excess of two dimensions? My clothes I can remove, but I can hardly change my relative position on the space-time axis. Not without a lot of work, anyway.

[You know. Just a normal conversation to have while being arrested.]

Has anyone ever told you how little sense you make?

[Sorry, were you expecting her to be impressed? Because you should know by now, even from the couple of times you've actually talked in person, that she's not the kind of person to be impressed by not understanding things.]

... Many people, actually.

[More here than usual, but that's to be expected with how hard this world leans into soft fantasy. Not a lot of multidimensional paradigm theory study here, he has a hunch.]

That's also something I've been arrested for.

So. What is the procedure here. I spend the night and get let out in the morning, appropriately-cowed?

What?

[Ai. Well, she shouldn't be surprised, really. Knowing the quality of discipline around here, it's not a ridiculous conclusion. They don't seem to have much between "torture the prisoner to death" and "let them go with a slap on the wrist".]

No. You will wait until I complete my rounds and have time to deal with you, and I shall ascertain whether you mean harm to any here, and if it seems you do, then here you shall remain, under guard.

I am not in the habit of posturing.

[Oh. Hm.

See, Ford is pretty sure that whether he actually intends to be a threat or not, he poses enough of a potential threat to get himself locked up permanently. And that, for a lot of reasons, just won't do. He'll have to organize a whole breakout, and it'll just be a huge debacle, and he doesn't want to have to deal with it.

He folds his hands thoughtfully behind his back as they walk, taking stock of the route they follow. You know. Just in case.]

I suppose just telling you up front that I don't have any intention of mounting any sort of attack on the Mistress or her castle won't work?

[Éowyn raises her eyebrows, shaking her head.]

Perhaps, if I were a fool. Rarely does the snake declare its intent to bite.

Besides, the Mistress' life is not the only thing of value in this castle, nor an attack the only harm men may seek.

I'm not a thief. I make a perfectly honest living selling hand-crafted pornography.

[Which is a perfectly legitimate career choice in this world so get off his damn back.]

In fact, that journal has the notes on the next installment of my zine, should you care to confirm.

[She sighs, looking exasperated.]

Forgive me, I had forgotten that a man may only do one thing in all his life. [The only kind of humour she does most of the time: sarcasm!]

And surely there cannot be so much of a market for... that, in a place so saturated by such things. A man would not wax fat on such work. His eye might wander to more tempting wares.

If you have done no wrong, and intend none, then I will offer true apologies. But I count my reasons for suspicion solid enough.

[And that's totally why she's arresting you. It has nothing to do with being cold and bored and desperately in need of something to make her feel useful. Nope.]

[There's a joke to make in there about tempting wares vis a vis her dinky little thong, but he restrains himself. That's a little lowbrow. If he's going to be making sex jokes he'd like to think they'll be marginally more clever.]

I probably won't have enough to pay any sort of bail, I'll admit to that.

[Yeah, he makes decent money providing pornography that's a little more niche than just 'big old tits and ludicrously fat dicks' but it's not a lot. He still does live in a shack and all.]

Unless you allow me to make up the difference some other way.

[If the look she gave him was any flatter, it would be legal in that dimension he mentioned earlier.]

For a man protesting his innocence, you seem terribly sure of the need for it. Do you not trust my judgement?

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