Submission (#3660) Approved

Spring in Strynhalde is an unusual thing.

Well, Strynhalde is unusual to Cinnamon. Snow does not exist beyond the bounds of this icy province, and she’s spent nearly her entire life tucked blissfully away in a quiet corner of Faerindell. Due to a chain of peculiar circumstances, however, she had found herself sequestered in Iorumund for the winter. Some might have balked at the thought of having to spend an entire season stuck in such a place, especially when coming from a much more temperate locale filled with flowers and other greenery, but Cinnamon had been absolutely enamored by the snow ever since she set paw upon this land.

It had been easy enough to find room and board. Being the region’s capital, there’s plenty of inn space and businesses looking to host travelers who were willing to provide work over the winter. When she first arrived, she saw a listing requesting help managing a small tea shop owned by an elderly elnin and was quick to offer her aid. 

It was well into spring, now, yet she hadn’t bothered to pack up and head home. Just a little bit longer, she would keep telling Almina, her host. Cinnamon was pretty sure the older ‘nin could tell that she was lingering for her sake, but neither of them ever brought it up. As much as she genuinely did want to make sure Almina was taken care of, she also just wasn’t quite ready to leave Strynhalde behind. The snow is too delightful, the nights too peaceful, the people too warm despite the characteristic cold. 

In exchange for a place to sleep, she helped around the shop here and there. Serving drinks, cleaning up, lifting things Almina couldn’t handle. It came naturally to her - she runs her own cafe back in Faerindell, after all - but she appreciates the change in scenery. As she dutifully sweeps the knotted wooden floor of the dust and crumbs from the day, she gazes out the rounded glass window. This town may be small, but it was full of heart. There’s an absolutely gorgeous view up from the snowy hills that cradle the valley, where the soft glow from the lanterns and candles that light up the town reflect the nearby snow, creating a mosaic of angelic gold and white light against the ground. 

There are mountains towering in the far distance, visible only for the fact that the star-filled sky is blocked by their silhouette. That’s another thing that’s so different here: Faerindell may have hills of billowing farmland, but not true peaks that rise high above the horizon and pierce the sky with ragged edges. She can’t picture herself actually hiking up one, but she tries to imagine what the view would be like. She thinks it would be one of the most beautiful sunrises in all of Eyre. Even the trees are different. Not just in color - their leaves are as pure white as the rest of the snow-filled scape surrounding them - but in nature, as well. They’re pointed straight up with leaves fine like tinsel; very unlike the hearty trunks with massive branches that dangle boughs of flowers high above the ground in Faerindell. 

With the debris on the floor properly cleared away, she begins to tidy up the rest of the quiet storefront. There are cups to be washed, dishes to put up, and inventory to be taken. Somewhere in the middle of all that, she finds a way to replace the water in the flower vases, as well. And write the daily drink menu for tomorrow morning. 

“Cinnamon, dear, you’ve been doing more work here than I have! Please, come take a break and have a cup with me.”

The sudden voice nearly startles her, but she quickly recovers and turns to face her gracious host with a sweet smile. Her first instinct is to politely decline, to force herself to finish the checklist of tasks that she set for herself, but the scent of the tea Almina has just brewed makes her change her mind. She can smell an herbal base with a hint of peppermint - a classic here, fittingly enough. 

“How could I ever resist your famous peppermint tea?” she resigns, to which the other ‘nin smiles widely. She can finish cleaning up after one cup. Or two…