[He watches as their little fungi sons abandon them (they don't run off far; they're still short little guys who have to run through tall snow), and Henry merely smiles at the old man, still holding... a snowball.
Thankfully, the elderly gentleman is far too oblivious (and near-sighted) to notice. He grumbles.
"Ah... damn birds. They're about as blind as I am! Well, you be careful. Don't want to get hit by one of those... avian rascals..." his statement ends with inaudible grumbling as he recedes back into his home, shutting the window behind him.
Henry can't help but laugh as he turns to look at Sprezzatura.]
He actually stumbles backwards, utterly unexpecting it, into a snowdrift someone shoveled into a pile. But he flings his snowball at her as he goes down with a poof.]
The mushrooms in the background laugh and cheer her on.
THIS IS BULLYING!! Henry covers his face with his forearms, sitting up as she pelts him again and again and again — each snowball becomes more and more loosely packed, so it's just a veil of white in his squinting vision the entire time.]
[Leapt onto, and now getting snow piled onto his face and body—]
W-wait, Sprezzatura, you— mfhh—
[Bye Henry, a soul more snowdrift than man. Even more so when the little mushrooms waddle up quickly and start kicking snow at him with their stubby legs. It’s the effort that counts.
[The mushrooms continue to kick little fluffy waves of snow at Henry, though it's negligible. Henry tries to heft himself into a sit, but he's still covered in snow, so he opts for telepathy.]
[ which prompts a low laugh, not quite a giggle, as she buries her hands into the snow on either side of him and curls them beneath his back and lifts. up you get, lyubimy. ]
[Lifted up like the most unhinged baptism that's ever taken place, and snow sloughs softly off of him, piling down at his waist instead. It's all in his hair, still sticking to his cheekbones, a whole layer of it covering his front jacket.
One of the mushrooms say: Yeah, we won! You toss snowballs weawy hawd, Spwezza!]
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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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T'was bird, Mister Ghats.
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Thankfully, the elderly gentleman is far too oblivious (and near-sighted) to notice. He grumbles.
"Ah... damn birds. They're about as blind as I am! Well, you be careful. Don't want to get hit by one of those... avian rascals..." his statement ends with inaudible grumbling as he recedes back into his home, shutting the window behind him.
Henry can't help but laugh as he turns to look at Sprezzatura.]
Wow. We really are reliving our childhoods.
[Well, speculatively, anyway.]
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That was your fault!
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He actually stumbles backwards, utterly unexpecting it, into a snowdrift someone shoveled into a pile. But he flings his snowball at her as he goes down with a poof.]
You're the one who missed-!
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snowball after snowball—though in her haste to pelt him thoroughly, each is less well formed than the last. ]
Matters not! Are you impressed? Impressed now? How about now?
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The mushrooms in the background laugh and cheer her on.
THIS IS BULLYING!! Henry covers his face with his forearms, sitting up as she pelts him again and again and again — each snowball becomes more and more loosely packed, so it's just a veil of white in his squinting vision the entire time.]
Okay, okay! I give up!
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SHRIEKS ]
Knave!
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The mushrooms gasp: Cheating!
FLINGS SNOW AT THEM TOO (gently)
Waaahh!!
Henry finds himself laughing.]
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[ she's tumbling down on top and just. grabbing armfuls of snow from the drift itself that he's fallen into and hauling it onto his face. ]
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W-wait, Sprezzatura, you— mfhh—
[Bye Henry, a soul more snowdrift than man. Even more so when the little mushrooms waddle up quickly and start kicking snow at him with their stubby legs. It’s the effort that counts.
Yeah!!!
henry really is that jojo meme rn]
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There.
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One of the mushrooms say: Yeah, we won! You toss snowballs weawy hawd, Spwezza!]
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Don't I?
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She does. She plays to win.
[Mushrooms, again: We won!!
Henry chuckles and glances at the little sons and back to Sprezzatura.]
We should do this more often.
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[ it unnerves her far less than the activities he had proposed before this. ]
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All three mushrooms wander towards Sprezzatura, one of them trying to make a bumbling climb into her lap.]
Keep this up, and they'll start to like you even more than me.
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I think that is already.
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…Maybe. But that’s not so bad, and I’m happy to see you warming up to them.
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They are such persistent things!
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[Simple as that. Says a mushroom, Pwesistentwy!]
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