<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">*NOTE*</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #0040BF">This is an Open Thread. I ask only that if you join your first post be an adequate introduction to your character, profile them in the story, but there is no need for a traditional profile to be posted unless you would like to. If you post a profile please keep it simple for instance:</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FFBF">Name: Ama <br/>Age: 20<br/>Race: Human<br/>Appearance: Small frame, white blonde hair, vivid green eyes, light coloring. Dresses in simple gowns according to weather.</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="color: #0040BF">I am a firm believer in allowing a character to develop within the story, that is why little is needed where a profile is concerned.<br/><br/>In regard to the story: The story is casual at best, there is a light plot to it which my character, and hopefully a few others, will follow, but for the most part the plan is just to get the characters together to â€œmingleâ€ and let connection, relationships, and sub-plots grow freely.  Being that the majority of the thread is set in a small village, sub-plots may take on a life of their own. If you feel that your personal sub-plot is growing out of control and beginning to shadow the main storyline you are welcome to take it to its own board, post a link in your final, or continuing related posts, so that readers can continue to follow your story if they like and you are willing to allow it.<br/></span><br/><span style="color: #FF4040">There will be some R rated situations, however I ask that you keep them tasteful and do not allow them to dominate your posts on a regular basis. This will be open ended for the time being and may grow into several other stories down the road.</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">Opening Post:</span></span><br/><br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">The Truth of Ruin</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Burning calves and bloodied feet carried her further, stumbling, slipping, and trembling. The mountain was high and frigid. Its chill gripped her with twisted cruelty and snatched away the feeling from her white skin. <br/><br/>â€œYou will be my boyâ€™s wife.â€<br/><br/>â€œAye a sweet thing that one.â€<br/><br/>â€œNew blood.â€<br/><br/>The words swirled around her grasping like icy fingers, pulling on the tattered remains of her once lovely green velvet gown. Her wrists ached, her vision was blurred, but she kept on, downward still, running, rolling, she kept moving, there was no time to stop. Home, all she wanted was home again.<br/><br/>Then she was there. Tripping her way up the road of her childhood, dragging strength from somewhere deep inside. The house was grand, grander now after all the years since she had last seen it. The door opened to her and the bitterness flowed out into her face.<br/><br/>â€œRuin!â€<br/><br/>â€œDidnâ€™t you have to good sense to stay gone?â€<br/><br/>â€œScandalâ€¦leaveâ€¦not welcome here anymore.â€<br/><br/>The door slammed shut with a forceful winter wind. She lifted her white fist and pounding, pleading, crying, but her voice was stolen away with the winter storm that tore at her frail form. The only sound that filled the white emptiness was the pounding of her now bleeding fists on the door, louder and louder.<br/><br/>â€œRuin!â€</span><br/><br/>Ama gasped and sat forward, enveloped in darkness. She pressed her hands to her face, feeling it slick with sweat. Hearing was dulled by the rush of blood pounding through her veins and her body quivered with the memory of the deadly cold. She took a deep shuddering breath, pushing the numbness from the center of her chest low so that she could breathe comfortably. Her wrists tingled and her feet burned. It was always like that after the dream though.<br/><br/>She jumped at the loud pounding on her bedroom door again.<br/><br/>â€œUp with ye girl, time to get to workâ€ Someone called from the other side in an annoyed yet muffled voice.<br/><br/>â€œC-coming.â€ Ama called back, a little breathless still. She rubbed her chilled thighs with her hands and pulled her wool blanket around her shoulders, then crossed the room and pushed the heavy fabric hanging over her window aside allowing the grey morning light to spill into her small chamber. She shivered and pulled the brown blanket tighter around her small frame as she settled over the chamber pot to take care of her morning business. She was used to early hours but the cold never seemed to get any easier. The village of Sion was situated in the far north, a largely unpopulated territory. Though it was slowly beginning to grow, and did have its fair share of passersby who stayed on for a season or two to see what work could be found or avoid further travel north until spring came again and the ice began to melt.<br/><br/>Ama shook the cobwebs from her mind and rand a trembling hand through the mess of white gold on her head. It needed cut, but she really couldnâ€™t bring herself to part with the long inconvenient tresses, they were all that remained of her prior life, all that was left to remind her that she was someone before and might someday be someone again. With another mental shake she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and set to dressing as quickly as she could in a thick charcoal hued gown and crisp white apron. She combed her hair straight and pulled the mass into a twisting bun at the nape of her neck, her arms protested at the long chore, but it wouldnâ€™t do to leave it feathering down her back so that it could get into the way.<br/><br/>Making her way through the small halls of the inn where she now lived and worked, she moved silently through the twisting corridors that led from the staff area to the kitchens. The pay was pitiful, the work long, and the guests not always well behaved. Yet it was a warm bed, two meals a day, sometimes three, and clothing to shield her from the relentless winter cold. She was more than happy with her situation, she reminded herself, and she tried not to dwell on how different her childhood had been in comparison, today however she was in a black mood, the dream had haunted her again. Would it ever cease?<br/><br/>â€œAma! Wake up and stir that fire girl!â€ Nell snapped with her fists perched on her wide hips and her plump lips set in a grim line. Ama curtsied and made whispered excuses to the domineering woman. Nell was gentle as a puss beneath the layers of her robust body, but when it came to her kitchen she was a fierce lioness. The woman had made a life of overseeing the kitchen girls and tending the gardens in the warmer months. She had instantly taken to Ama, and Ama had soon found herself hopelessly endeared to the large round woman whose grey eyes twinkled with suppressed smiles and unruly red curls poked out from beneath her white cap. â€œDonâ€™t know what gets into you sometimes, brat.â€ She added with a huff and turned back to her busy work of rolling out dough for the pastries that would be served for breakfast to the guests.<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™m sorry Nell.â€ Ama said softly as she opened the cook stove and poked at the coals. â€œBad dream.â€ She mumbled.<br/><br/>â€œAgain, huh.â€ Nell commented with a strained grunt, pounding the dough into shape. â€œBest to just forget it and move on.â€ She added.<br/><br/>Ama smiled and closed the door on the stove then moved to Nellâ€™s side and began cracking eggs on the side of a bowl. â€œEasier said than done Iâ€™m afraid.â€<br/><br/>â€œWell it wonâ€™t do to have you shuffling around here like youâ€™re daft all on account of a nagging dream. Best that you find a better way of dealing with it before you find yourself on the wrong end of a bad situation. You know that crab of a boss we got would just as soon toss you out for sleeping in.â€ Nell warned in a low voice, pointing her rolling pin at Ama as she spoke with brows raised and a frown on her face.<br/><br/>â€œI know.â€ Ama said with a stiff nod. â€œI will try harder.â€ She added before turning back to her work. The minutes that followed were filled with nothing but idle chat, two chickens had frozen over night, the cow that went missing last month was found at Jake Marxâ€™s ranch missing its innards, there would be stew for lunch. Then they began their cooking. Amaâ€™s stomach growled in protest as the scents of sweet iced pastries, buttery eggs, and greasy sausage filled the warm kitchen. One thing she hated about her new living arrangement was the fact that the guests were to be fed first, every last one, before the staff was allowed to dine. Usually that meant the meal was meager and cold. Stew for lunch would be a treat though, as it stayed on the stove throughout the day and Nell would add scraps to it to supplement the leftovers for the staff.<br/><br/>Just before the last batch of pastries came out of the oven bells began ringing, guests waking hungry, and cranky, no doubt. Breakfast was the best meal but the most work, as the tavern remained closed until the midday meal, which provided for peace during the morning, but it also meant that Ama would take the stairs countless times delivering meals and returning for the dishes afterwards.<br/><br/>The Harlotâ€™s Ruin was the only inn that was within the limits of Sion village. It was quaint, but compared to other inns on the outskirts and in the roads that navigated the Wilds, it offered plenty of comforts to its guests. It also provided the most convenient means of socializing in Sion, having a large tavern room with a full bar that served drinks and hot food from lunch until late into the night. This was the life of Ama Hargrave, from a princess to a peasant, Nell would say, and though her current situation was a step up from the one that had put her here, she found she missed her old life, the one that had been ripped from her, with an aching bitterness.<br/><br/>Taking up a covered serving platter Ama sighed at herself for allowing her mind to wander to less pleasant matters and glanced up at the room number above the most frequently ringing bell, then bumped the kitchen door open with her hip and mounted the staff stairs to the second floor. Time to work.[album][/album]