Story for the day: Blizzard
The Den Asaan’s efforts to keep impending and heavy snows in the white skies over Frewyn was destroyed. All of his shouting and finger pointing had come to ruin when a blizzard had blanketed to the capital. There had been such a building up of snow over the weeks of abstinence that it all decided to rebel at once.
While the denizens of Diras were buried under the white drifts, the event had been unknown to the Den Asaan and the commander who had remained in the commons the entirety of the day. The commander was expected to overlook the latest drafts of the trade agreements with Sanhedhran and the Den Asaan, wishing to remain in the auspices of the commons to hide from the Frewyn cold by sitting before the fire, remained with her. He nestled beside her when he wished for a bit of attention, and when he had done practicing his arduous Kaatas with his blade, he succumbed to his meditations while sitting at her side.
Evening came and the commander had finally finished her commentary and amendments to the well-tailored agreement. She felt it was overall fair and cordial, just as Unghaahi would have liked, and she commended Alasdair for inscribing such a document to mark Frewyn as an ally in commerce. He realized her ignorance of her mate for the length of the day and as a consolation and reward for his forbearance wished to bring him out for refreshment.
“Would you like to have some Dhovhani for your evening meal, Iimon Ghaala?” she asked her mate.
The giant instantly awoke from his mediations with an eager alertness. “I will gather my brothers,” he declared, and left the room immediately.
Obhantaa and Otenohi gave their consent to join him but Unghaahi declined as Kai Linaa has already made a meal for him to enjoy. The Den Amhadhri asked if his brothers would care for some of the Phoraas prepared but it was generally agreed that though Kai Linaa made Phoraas more delectable than those on Sanhedhran, the wrapped grains were not as tempting as Dhovhani. Unghaahi smiled at their eagerness for their more preferred Sanhedhran dish and was secretly pleased he would have every Phoraas for himself.
The three Haanta were collected and the commander met them in the main hall where they were to being their quest for Sanhedhran Blood Soup but their venture was halted when they came to the entrance. Snow fell generously from the skies and wind whipped it about, making it impossible to see the expanse of the capital.
The Den Asaan attempted his powers of commanding the skies but all endeavors were fruitless against the unrelenting snows. He roared in agony for the wretched climate of his mate’s kingdom and shouted his disapprobation with vehemence.
“The skies have taken their vengeance on you while you weren’t looking, Iimon Ghaala,” the commander said in a sweet and mocking tone. “You should have erected a contrived finger to point to the sky in your absence. I suppose dinner shall wait.”
Obhantaa, who was delighted at the prospect of being let out into the snows, suddenly grew cheerless and he awed in distress. “No Dhovhani, Gondhaahi?” he asked ingenuously.
The commander looked to her angered mate and then to the dulcet white giant. His amber eyes were wide and glistening, his lower lip began to pucker, and all the sadness of an evening out promised taken away so cruelly had broken the woman’s resolve. “We can go if you don’t mind trundling through this,” the commander submitted.
Obhantaa burst out in joy and ran as fast as he could into the nearest bank of snow. He laughed and enjoyed his repeated trails into every bank of snow along the road to the main gate.
“You should stay close to me, Obhantaa. I’m certain to lose you under the snow,” she called after the giant.
Obhantaa obediently returned and waited until she was prepared to brave the harsh winds. Otenohi had barely made any preparation, remaining in his warkilt and meager Sindhaara. He declared he was fit for such weather but the commander believed he only did so to plague the Den Asaan. Never had she seen such a sour face upon him or heard such swearing and though the Den Asaan had come with his sandals and trappings, the wind was certain to blow through his cloak. The snow had already grown to a great height, making his Sindhaara useless for treading. Everything became horrid for him and the commander was inclined to leave him behind if only to keep him happy.
Otenohi had led the way as they left, enjoying the heavy snows by tossing boulders of it at his brother, and the commander followed with little difficulty, asking Obhantaa to stand backward and refrain from blinking so the white giant would sustain his visibility with his vivid amber eyes. She was pleased to see Obhantaa enjoying his time playing in the snow but she was startled when she heard the sounds of familiar feet pounding the soft ground beside her.
“Walk, woman,” Rautu grumbled.
The commander turned to see her mate trudging under the blankets of flurries with his heavy furs gathered close around him and with a dour grimace on his lowered features. “I thought you shouldn’t like to come, Iimon Ghaala. I did promise we would return with some for you.”
“I will not give Otenohi the pleasure of telling me how much he ate in my absence,” the giant demanded. “Walk faster. I want a seat by the fire.”
The commander marched as fast as was possible in the knee-deep snowfall and when the giant beside realized her impediment, he took her into his cloak and ordered her to hold to him while he forced the snow from their path with commanding strides.
Otenohi howled in laughter for the sight of his brother huddling with his mate for warmth while swathing her in his trappings and to tease him tossed some of the powdery fluff his way. Rautu shook it from his hair and continued his unfaltering rally until they reached the Haanta provisionary.
The seat by the fire was had, the Dhovhani greatly enjoyed and eaten in several helpings, and they were only too sorry to have to return to the castle in the blustering snows. They had tea while retaining hopes of the blizzard relenting but it became worse the more they waited. A decision was made to brave the unbearable climate one last time and while the Den Asaan had taken his mate back to the keep with great alacrity, Obhantaa Leraa and Otenohi made their return a languid one, enjoying their white surroundings for the rarity it was to them.
Upon returning to the commons, the Den Asaan was full of nothing but hatred for the Frewyn weather. He groused, he groaned and he went to work. He took his Sindhaara, which he had only used during the winters of the south, and began lining them with in hopes that they would be more useful the nest time he was made to venture out.
The commander simpered to see in such a state of perturbation for something that could have been avoided on his part. She laughed at his assertion of Kassephi, the Haanta affirmative for expression just how enough of a particular object the Den Asaan had, and was pleased to see him taking counter measures for the climate instead of merely shouting at the skies.