Centre of the Grove

[OOC - This thread takes place the day after any previous posting. You have all had a chance to get dry, fed, etc.]

Isabelle sits cross legged in the middle of the grove, with her staff laid horizontally across her knees. Though at first glance she appears to be meditating she does look up and greet people as they arrive, in ones and twos at first then a steady trickle, then a stream. Practically everyone is here, only the very old and very young not making the trek. There was rain early this morning and the path up is slippy but it cleared around mid-morning and there are persistent rumours it may even be possible to see the sun later today.

The main festivities will begin at noon, as the Druidic day runs noon until noon: Isabelle has explained this at great length to practically everyone. However, many people have already started their own festivities via one of the barrels rolled up here early and a couple of couples have snuck off to get a little more personally festive if you know what I mean. Nudge nudge wink wink. That'll probably continue and increase over the course of the festival, there's always a baby boom nine months after the Spring Festival. Plus, Winslow and other herbalists know to expect a sudden increase in demand for Maiden's Saviour, a bitter tasting red moss, about a month after the festival when things that should have shown up with the next moon don't.

The population of the village will be here today, and you'll have no problems talking with anyone you want to, although doing so unnoticed by others will be practically impossible.

Winslow will be checking his supply of Maiden's Saviour as well as other herbs and plants with restorative and "internal" health properties.

Tim will sit were he's able to find a moderately dry spot, preferably at the edge of the grove, with a makeshift table(read "flat surface") seeming slightly lost in thought as he writes and re-writes notes on a piece of papper.

Finding as close to a dry spot, Robin settles down with a drink from one of the barrels and casts an eye over the gathered crowed looking for familiar faces.

Mirana almost dances into the Grove, a look about her screaming of joy and happiness. She stops to greet and courtsey to the people around her and when able she'll encourage others to twirl with her, she avoids getting to close to the centre though as to not disturb any part of the ritual. After a lot of light-footed faffing and twirling she ends up sitting down wherever place is available, changing position a few times to let someone who's a bit more elderly or shorter than her to have the seat she's currently occupying.

You hear various snatches of conversation and gossip (...apparently it's not his......pretty good year......just massive.  Like, so big......firewood is all sodden......new pots and pans...) and everyone seems to be having a good time.  A couple of men arrive sweating with the exertion of the barrel each is carrying and old Lorna and her handcart full of cheese arrive shortly after.

Eventually, about half an hour before noon the Mayor and the representative from the Dwarves arrive, deep in conversation in quick and fluent Dwarven.  Alfin grins at anyone who makes eye contact but the two of them keep to themselves for a moment.  Isabelle looks up at the sun and languidly stands up to do her hostess duties.  As she circulates to meet and greet she leaves a trail of offended people in her wake, though she seems oblivious to that.

Eric Walks in carrying a barrel that sound as if it's filled with some kind of liquid and after finding a good (not necessary dry) spot he puts the barrel on the ground, opens the lid and takes a few glasses of his cider, happily sharing with any one who asks. With a big smile on his face he seats himself om top of the barrel when noon draws near.

Winslow approaches, "good day Eric, is this cider of your own brewing?" Picks up a glass.

With the arrival of Natasha and her lute, you sense the festivities are about to start. One hunter, drunker than the rest of his glowering little knot, starts over but apparently thinks better of it after the mayor stares at him. Natasha tunes her harp and exchanges a few quick words with isabelle as the general conversation starts to die down.

Noticing Eric and Winslow taking seating near to each other, Mirana will move over with a big smile and a wave, she keeps almost silent, but leans in towards Eric and wispers. Don't forget to speak to Isabelle about the bear thing, before you get too happy. She says with a wink and a nod towards the keg of cider.

Noticing how the murmur that is many people having lots of conversations at the same time is fading away, Tim scribbles a last couple of things and then turns his attention to what's about to happen.

Winslow drinks the cider.

"indeed it is my own Winslow" Eric replies with a smile and quiets down a little for the festival to truly start, after giving Mirana the third and final glass of course.

After spotting Mirana, Eric & Winslow Robin wanders over. Mind if I join you

Natasha plays a rippling arpeggio on the harp and the last of the conversation dies away. Periodically people claim that Natasha isn't that good, that it's her appearance that make people think she is. That's not true. If the phrase "high level bard with high charisma and maxed out perform skill" wasn't absolute gibberish it would be the words you used to describe her. She's good.

Isabelle steps forward in to the silence.  Spring is here. Finally

It's been a long winter and a tough one, but spring is here. Maybe in winter you did some unwise things, maybe some compromises were made that shouldn't have been. But spring is here. With our stewardship the land will support us and we will remember that winter is nothing to be afraid of. Maybe winter, cold and hunger made us accept help we should have refused. So it has always been

Regrets are the way of the world but now spring is here. Rebirth. New beginnings. Life.

All are welcome in my Grove. All. But let us remember on this day that the time for desperation, fear and last resorts has gone. Spring is here.

She clearly has more to say, and there's a traditional hymn to be sung, but she goes silent for a moment to gauge reactions from the muttering her editorialising has caused. The hunters don't look happy. She was clearly referring to the meat supplied by the Cult and you suspect they had been expecting a thanks.

Winslow frowns at parts of the speech, particularly those which offended the hunters. Not necessarily because he thought they were upstanding citizens of the town, but to be fair they did put in a lot of work, they did come through for us and, well, they used up a lot of bolts. He resolved to say something to a couple of them as soon as, make sure they understood it was not all unappreciated. He has another mug of cider.

Mirana just smiles, enjoying the daylight and the buzz of the people around her. She drinks a bit more of the cider and gestures for Robin to have a seat with them.

(OOC: I have NO idea why it hasn't sent me any notifications, it's been a while since you guys posted :c )

Thank you Robin says, before sitting down.