He takes her hand, a gentle squeeze — any time Henry Creel earns a handhold from Sprezzatura, he considers it a win.]
Careful, I'm pretty sure they've been wanting a snowball fight for a while now.
[And out the door they go, which he closes behind them gently with his powers.
The snow is really coming down now, their visions veiled with a sheet of soft, falling white. There are hills of snow gathering on either side of the path that leads up to the door, and amid one, three little mushrooms are scattering around and laughing, kicking up snow. One of them gathers up (tiny) balls of the stuff, creating its ammunition for a future snowball fight.]
[ and indeed, as they step back outside, the snowballs the mushroom has put together are minuscule. no bigger than a marble. she has weathered hailstones both larger and harder, yet the sight is oddly... charming. she worries, too, of having them out here like this—so simple for a wayward thief to get ideas, whisk them up and away, or perhaps do them harm if harm is intended.
and yet.
she hears their little giggles and something in her stills. ]
[All three of the mushrooms become snowball-making machines, ducking down into the snow and packing little wads of it together excitedly. Henry arches a brow, then does the same on his side.]
I'll save the big ones for you. [Snowballs, he means.] Watch out.
[ and she squats down into the traditional Slav Squat and begins to roll her own. it's good snow for this; not too dry. and, tiefling that she is, the heat of her palms begins the work of melting each clump of snow as she packs them into haphazard snowballs.
when was the last time she did something like this?
[The snow in Nevada, let’s just say, was nigh non-existent. And his time as a “free” teen in Indiana was painfully short. Henry, too, has not done this in a long, long time — so long ago that any related memory feels like a distant dream unbelonging to him.
And yet he packs the snow easily enough into precision-round balls. He’s not even wearing gloves, and the cold feels nice against his long fingers.
One, two, three, four snowballs…]
You’ll make me blush. Try not to steal all the thunder from the boys, okay?
[ it's a good thing you ate all those teenagers who know about snow, huh?
she leans to one side to watch him as he works, his slim bare fingers and the utter lack of a blush, but maybe some pink in his cheeks from the nip in the sea air. ]
Worry more about being shown up yourself!
[ a little down the way, Waterdeep bustles on. there's no real such thing as privacy in the areas Sprezzatura Vaux can afford to live.
then—boff! she punctuates with a snowball to the back of his head. ]
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vecna) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
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Henry laughs and goes to grab his coat, as well as hers, if she ever bothered to shrug it off.]
Thanks for humoring me. And them.
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It is least thing I can do.
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Don’t think of it like that. Like you’re repaying a debt.
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I don't.
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[Ever vigilant, he waits patiently.]
Then let’s have some fun.
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[ in his infinite patience. only now steps forward, in order to place her hand in his. ]
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[Being domestic. As long as it's with her.
He takes her hand, a gentle squeeze — any time Henry Creel earns a handhold from Sprezzatura, he considers it a win.]
Careful, I'm pretty sure they've been wanting a snowball fight for a while now.
[And out the door they go, which he closes behind them gently with his powers.
The snow is really coming down now, their visions veiled with a sheet of soft, falling white. There are hills of snow gathering on either side of the path that leads up to the door, and amid one, three little mushrooms are scattering around and laughing, kicking up snow. One of them gathers up (tiny) balls of the stuff, creating its ammunition for a future snowball fight.]
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[ and indeed, as they step back outside, the snowballs the mushroom has put together are minuscule. no bigger than a marble. she has weathered hailstones both larger and harder, yet the sight is oddly... charming. she worries, too, of having them out here like this—so simple for a wayward thief to get ideas, whisk them up and away, or perhaps do them harm if harm is intended.
and yet.
she hears their little giggles and something in her stills. ]
What are you three up to, hm?
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The mushrooms look up at her, smiling.
I want to make a snow angel!
No, I wanna make a snowman!
Snowball fiiiight!!
The third throws a tiny snowball at Sprezzatura. It smacks her ankle, relatively unimpressive.]
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kicks up a little scuff of snow right back at the offending mushroom. sorry, she's still a little bit mean and not good enough with kids. ]
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Pwaaahh…]
…That’s not how a snowball fight works, you know. Though… they are at somewhat of a disadvantage.
[Hm…]
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If I throw snow's ball at them, I crush! Precisely.
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Then why don’t you team up with them, instead?
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[ without even acknowledging the snowball ]
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Mm-hm. If you think you stand a chance.
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[We can beat Henwy! declares the snowball-mushroom, pumping both arms in the air.]
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[The mushrooms shuffle towards Sprezzatura, as though already taking her "side."]
But that's a "yes", then?
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I'll save the big ones for you. [Snowballs, he means.] Watch out.
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[ and she squats down into the traditional Slav Squat and begins to roll her own. it's good snow for this; not too dry. and, tiefling that she is, the heat of her palms begins the work of melting each clump of snow as she packs them into haphazard snowballs.
when was the last time she did something like this?
ever...? ]
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And yet he packs the snow easily enough into precision-round balls. He’s not even wearing gloves, and the cold feels nice against his long fingers.
One, two, three, four snowballs…]
You’ll make me blush. Try not to steal all the thunder from the boys, okay?
[The mushroom boys.]
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she leans to one side to watch him as he works, his slim bare fingers and the utter lack of a blush, but maybe some pink in his cheeks from the nip in the sea air. ]
Worry more about being shown up yourself!
[ a little down the way, Waterdeep bustles on. there's no real such thing as privacy in the areas Sprezzatura Vaux can afford to live.
then—boff! she punctuates with a snowball to the back of his head. ]
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