we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
You'd think there wouldn't be much to do for Torchline to get ready for Longnight, and whilst no, there's no biting cold to protect against and no shortage of food or medicine (or liquor), that doesn't mean they don't have their own version of preparation. Longnight is an excuse for a week-long party, after all, with bonfires scattered far across the coast - and for that many fires to burn consistently, you either need a lot of magic or a lot of firewood.
It's never too early to start collecting the latter, and so Ronin finds himself quite regularly combing the stretch of beach in front of where the Northaven is moored for driftwood and other suitable kindling. He's not the only one out here this morning either - a few children nearby are also grabbing up odd sticks, though they've recently been distracted in using the would-be kindling to make a flag and some turrets for a shell covered sandcastle.
Smirking to himself as he turns back to his own task, Ronin grabs at a larger bit of driftwood and begins to drag it up the beach towards the foliage, where the tide won't eat at it and it will have a proper chance to dry out. His feet are bare and his sweater pushed to the elbows, the Knight looking like a strange and castaway sailor as he plods across the soft sand.
It's never too early to start collecting the latter, and so Ronin finds himself quite regularly combing the stretch of beach in front of where the Northaven is moored for driftwood and other suitable kindling. He's not the only one out here this morning either - a few children nearby are also grabbing up odd sticks, though they've recently been distracted in using the would-be kindling to make a flag and some turrets for a shell covered sandcastle.
Smirking to himself as he turns back to his own task, Ronin grabs at a larger bit of driftwood and begins to drag it up the beach towards the foliage, where the tide won't eat at it and it will have a proper chance to dry out. His feet are bare and his sweater pushed to the elbows, the Knight looking like a strange and castaway sailor as he plods across the soft sand.
THE WHITE KNIGHT
and continue fighting
