[ 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. ]
He’s made at least a couple of snowballs by the time she achieves a direct hit on the back of his head.]
Hey—
[It explodes in white, dusting his hair and shoulders. The little mushrooms laugh and each of them throw a couple at him, too. They pelt him with about as much force as they can manage, which isn’t much, but most of them hit and “explode” against his legs.
Henry holds up a snowball faux threateningly.]
I didn’t even say I was ready. No mercy for cheaters.
[The mushrooms laugh and, holding their little snowballs, scatter in different directions.
…Henry throws his snowball at Sprezzatura instead. Revenge.]
[Plap! A tiny snowball hits Henry in the shoulder and he chuckles, angling away. The determined mushroom calls out to Sprezzatura: Get him, Spwezzatula!]
[It’s a hit all the same, and snow splatters. But Henry’s already turning, extra snowballs tucked in his arms, and dashes away to put some space between them.
All three mushrooms give chase, leaving trails in the snow. One trips and faceplants in the white with an oof, but it’s probably fine. The chase is on!(?)]
[ her, this time: ] Get him! Don't let him get away!
[ another toss, which completely misses, but she might argue later it's because of seeing the mushroom trip. a ghostly Mage Hand flickers into being to gently right it. ]
[Her snowball misses, flying right past him. The little mushrooms still giving chase have only minimal more success, a small smattering of snow sometimes hitting the back of his legs. Henry smiles wide as he turns around, easily outpacing the mushrooms long enough to spare a glance, and just in time to watch Sprezzatura right one of them from their fall.
…It’s cute, really. Her concern is almost motherly, despite the great unlikelihood of a squishy mushroom familiar hurting itself by tripping in the snow. Of course, he’ll not say such a thing. He calls out, instead-]
All of you need to work on your aim!
[The righted mushroom perks up, on its feet, and says: Thanks, Spwezzatuwa! The snow’s weally big!
He means that the snow has piled up high enough to make it hard for short fungi to run through it.]
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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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[ 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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He’s made at least a couple of snowballs by the time she achieves a direct hit on the back of his head.]
Hey—
[It explodes in white, dusting his hair and shoulders. The little mushrooms laugh and each of them throw a couple at him, too. They pelt him with about as much force as they can manage, which isn’t much, but most of them hit and “explode” against his legs.
Henry holds up a snowball faux threateningly.]
I didn’t even say I was ready. No mercy for cheaters.
[The mushrooms laugh and, holding their little snowballs, scatter in different directions.
…Henry throws his snowball at Sprezzatura instead. Revenge.]
/2
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Ah!
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Can dish it but can’t take it?
[Plap! A tiny snowball hits Henry in the shoulder and he chuckles, angling away. The determined mushroom calls out to Sprezzatura: Get him, Spwezzatula!]
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well................. his shoulder, actually. ]
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All three mushrooms give chase, leaving trails in the snow. One trips and faceplants in the white with an oof, but it’s probably fine. The chase is on!(?)]
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[ another toss, which completely misses, but she might argue later it's because of seeing the mushroom trip. a ghostly Mage Hand flickers into being to gently right it. ]
Take care you do not break yourself!
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…It’s cute, really. Her concern is almost motherly, despite the great unlikelihood of a squishy mushroom familiar hurting itself by tripping in the snow. Of course, he’ll not say such a thing. He calls out, instead-]
All of you need to work on your aim!
[The righted mushroom perks up, on its feet, and says: Thanks, Spwezzatuwa! The snow’s weally big!
He means that the snow has piled up high enough to make it hard for short fungi to run through it.]
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