06-08-2018, 06:19 PM
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 500px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify;"]/ quality over quantity crows, no worries
It is a test of any leader to uproot such unfamiliar people, dragging them from their home to someplace foreign, and it's no surprise that some were unhappy by the sudden change - in truth, he had not anticipated them to be overjoyed by the prospect of moving, but he was able to soothe any immediate concerns with the promise that their original dwelling would still remain a part of the new territory. That, as a pledge, has not been broken so far - though some seem to think that they are forbidden from making that hike back up to the lodge, he would not stop anybody who wished to traverse the icy trails. It would do nobody any good to let the place fall into disrepair, and much as they're lending their efforts to renovating this village, he would not disagree with the idea of preserving the lodge, too. It does seem a little odd that some were so adamant to remain in such a cramped environment, unable to breathe without sharing the air with another - but perhaps that closeness was what forged Flintlock, what made its people so strong. It's difficult to tell if this change of pace will have a negative effect, but Ermal attempts to be positive for the simple reason that he cannot afford to be much else. He's given the people here a few days to settle in without his interference, so that they can come to terms with the newness of it all, but he can't hide forever - as tempting as it may be to hole himself up and work himself to the bone, comfort found in isolation, he isn't so helplessly antisocial (and stupid, perhaps) that he genuinely thinks of that as a good idea. No - he has to do what he promised to do and be a leader, for better or for worse, and ensure that everything runs smoothly for once.
Having never been a fan of the cold, Ermal finds it rather amusing that he's wound up in this icy climate with no real freedom, shackled to these mountains much as the ski village itself is. Not one for excessive complaining, he has simply gotten used to layering up - but his breath still fans out in front of him, and his often-bare fingers curl up into his sleeves and against the soft lining of his pockets when he presses his hands into any signs of warmth. The village is quiet at this time in the morning, with most still sleeping (or, if not that, then huddling in their beds, hiding from the cool outside air), but some do brave the wind - such as Cain, whose appearance catches the Director's eye. "Ciao," he greets, withdrawing one hand (regrettably) from his pocket to wave at the other man. A stranger, mostly, like everybody here, but familiar enough to have a name; he attempted, on their journey to the village, to memorise as many faces as possible, both of people and animals alike. It may sound strange, but the dogs are easier to remember. "You settling in alright? Need anything?"
It is a test of any leader to uproot such unfamiliar people, dragging them from their home to someplace foreign, and it's no surprise that some were unhappy by the sudden change - in truth, he had not anticipated them to be overjoyed by the prospect of moving, but he was able to soothe any immediate concerns with the promise that their original dwelling would still remain a part of the new territory. That, as a pledge, has not been broken so far - though some seem to think that they are forbidden from making that hike back up to the lodge, he would not stop anybody who wished to traverse the icy trails. It would do nobody any good to let the place fall into disrepair, and much as they're lending their efforts to renovating this village, he would not disagree with the idea of preserving the lodge, too. It does seem a little odd that some were so adamant to remain in such a cramped environment, unable to breathe without sharing the air with another - but perhaps that closeness was what forged Flintlock, what made its people so strong. It's difficult to tell if this change of pace will have a negative effect, but Ermal attempts to be positive for the simple reason that he cannot afford to be much else. He's given the people here a few days to settle in without his interference, so that they can come to terms with the newness of it all, but he can't hide forever - as tempting as it may be to hole himself up and work himself to the bone, comfort found in isolation, he isn't so helplessly antisocial (and stupid, perhaps) that he genuinely thinks of that as a good idea. No - he has to do what he promised to do and be a leader, for better or for worse, and ensure that everything runs smoothly for once.
Having never been a fan of the cold, Ermal finds it rather amusing that he's wound up in this icy climate with no real freedom, shackled to these mountains much as the ski village itself is. Not one for excessive complaining, he has simply gotten used to layering up - but his breath still fans out in front of him, and his often-bare fingers curl up into his sleeves and against the soft lining of his pockets when he presses his hands into any signs of warmth. The village is quiet at this time in the morning, with most still sleeping (or, if not that, then huddling in their beds, hiding from the cool outside air), but some do brave the wind - such as Cain, whose appearance catches the Director's eye. "Ciao," he greets, withdrawing one hand (regrettably) from his pocket to wave at the other man. A stranger, mostly, like everybody here, but familiar enough to have a name; he attempted, on their journey to the village, to memorise as many faces as possible, both of people and animals alike. It may sound strange, but the dogs are easier to remember. "You settling in alright? Need anything?"