I get a little warm in my heart [mingle log]

[hellawrath]

Who: anyone looking for some wintery fun!
What: admiring mysterious icy artwork, warming up by campfires, making a fool of yourself while ice skating, snowball fights?? it's a snow party!
When: Jan 14 and on
Where: Enso, in and around the temple ruins
Warnings: snow-based violence

When you've had to deal with a literal apocalypse every single year for a hundred years, a little battle for the sun isn't really gonna grind your gears that much. Sure, the elf twins are still nobly doing their part every day. Lup is keeping several small campfires going inside the temple ruins, as well as periodically blasting two large stone slabs in the main chamber with a Fireball - those babies radiate heat for hours afterwards. And Taako is graciously handing out truly delicious soup from a huge bowl to anyone who asks nicely. Island Walmart is still a thing too, the large scrawled sign declaring this month's name to be The Hot Spot. Looks like it was Lup's turn on the naming.

But they're also just kinda bored of the whole thing? Like, everyone's so focused on preparing, on gathering and planning and training. There's a place for that, and Lup is pretty psyched for the actual fighting, but this pall of doom and purpose that's fallen over the islands as heavily as the snow? Neither of them is here for that.

So anyone who makes their way up to the temple will not only find the usual warm respite from the freezing temperatures, but also - a ten foot tall ice sculpture of a majestic as fuck unicorn rearing on its hind legs. And a smaller one of a figure with long ears hiding its face in the crook of its elbow, arms pointing upwards do we have a single modern day character who knows what dabbing is. Off to the side in a clearing, there's a twenty foot circle of clear ice that's just begging to be skated on. Just don't admire the artwork for too long, or you're gonna get noscoped with a snowball by a pair of horrible winter goblins.

Comments

gabe goodman | ota

[ungrieved]

Gabe might not know what a dab is, but he does recognize the strategy inherent to a snowball fight, which is exactly what has him eagerly raking up fistfuls of snow to pack them into an impenetrable snow fort. Don't mind the fact that he's really obviously only in a t-shirt and jeans, and is shivering somewhat violently on top of it. Surely that's psychosomatic, right? He can't actually freeze to death here. It's...fine, probably.

Besides, focusing on warm winter wear is boring. Way more interesting is pelting as many people with expertly-packed snowballs as possible. If you happen to get hit and feel a particularly painful sting, don't fret. That might just be because of the...rocks...that Gabe has taken to stowing inside.

He doesn't seem to mind the fact that his lips and fingers are bluing around the edges, but at least that makes him an easy target.

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Muffet is avoiding the snowball fight as she goes about her errands with the ease of one who has grown up in a culture where 'flinging magical bullet patterns at people' is considered a valid and commonplace form of communicating, when she happens to catch a glimpse of Gabe's increasingly blue lips. She pauses for a couple moments and does a quick mental review of the colors humans usually come in, confirms that isn't one she's seen before, and promptly turns around and heads directly for him.]

[Spider lady incoming, Gabe. Think fast.]

Hello, pardon me? I don't believe we've been introduced, but you look as though you could use something warmer to wear.

[ungrieved]

[That SURE IS A SPIDER LADY. Gabe abandons the snowball fight at once to stare at her extremely rudely, to the point where he all but outright ignores her statement and instead opts to creep closer, closer, inspecting her as though she might be a very interesting pet spider, and not a life-sized monster with an adorable set of bows in the hair she inexplicably has.]

[If she doesn't stop him, he'll even quite rudely poke her.]

I'd remember if we were introduced.

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Muffet meets his gaze steadily, with all the confidence of one who knows full well that her hair bows are super cute and does not fear social judgement. Taking the opportunity to look him over and guess at his measurements, she reaches into her pack with one hand and begins rummaging amount the spare clothing she's been weaving.]

Likewise, I'm sure. One does try to be memorable.

[As he reaches out to try and poke her, she calmly pulls a scarf out of her bag and drapes it over his hand before he can reach her. Enjoy your new winter gear, Gabe.]

Hmm, you could probably use a hat, too.

[ungrieved]

[He stares at the scarf as though it's personally affronted him, rudely shaking it off so it lands in the snow at his feet.]

What makes you think I need one?

[Putting aside the fact that he looks like he's about twenty minutes from freezing his toddler-ass ass off, he's perfectly fine!!!!!!!]

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Muffet reaches down and smoothly plucks the scarf off the ground, carefully brushing off the snow with one hand. As successful as her bakery has been, it is still part of the service industry- which means inexplicably obnoxious humans are something she's learned to deal with in the year she's spent on the Surface. At least Gabe isn't demanding a full refund because he ordered coffee and didn't like the taste.]

I concede that I'm not an expert in human biology, but I'm fairly certain that shaking all over and turning that particular shade of blue isn't a good sign. Now, is there a particular style of hat you care for?

[ungrieved]

You don't even know if I'm human. You don't know what I am.

[He lifts his chin defiantly, staring her down with the expectation for some kind of argument he's doubtless raring for. People who remain unperturbed won't remain so forever, he's certain, and it's his personal goal to find that breaking point for each and every person.]

[prettypurpleparlor]

[Everyone has one, but Muffet's sure isn't anywhere around here.]

Pardon me if I've made a hasty assumption, then. Are you human?

[ungrieved]

[You'd think he'd learn at some point. You'd think. But this is what happens when you're emotionally little more than a tiny baby.]

[Gabe grins. It's clear that this was the sort of question he was expecting to be asked, and he's all too eager to answer; arms spreading wide, expression folding into one of serene triumph. The effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that his audience certainly didn't seem very impressed from the start - paired with the fact that Gabe himself is still shivering rather badly.]

I am what might be. I am mystery.

[prettypurpleparlor]

Would mystery like a coat, perhaps? Or I can do a lovely shawl, they're rather simple to make.

[Yeah, sorry Gabe. The poetry of your reply is lost on someone who's mostly worried about keeping you from getting hypothermia.]

[ungrieved]

[...]

No. I just told you that I don't need it.

[yOU REALLY OBVIOUSLY DO, GABE.]

[prettypurpleparlor]

No, you asked why I thought you needed it, I answered, and then you ignored my question about your hat preference. Human or otherwise, you do seem to be quite cold.

[Her reply is perfectly calm and unruffled. She can do this all day, dude.]

cw: dissociation, references to child death

[ungrieved]

I'm not -

[The denial springs to his tongue before he can process it, the depths of the shivering that races up through his bones and to his fingertips and down his nerve endings and sets his teeth on edge, because this is how it felt, he remembers, when his consciousness began to flicker and then his organs stopped writhing with a desperation that had him wailing for hour after hour without end.]

[Just eighteen months old.]
[So cold.]
[So cold.]
[So ]




[At some point, he stopped staring at her pompously.]

[At some point, he sat down abruptly in the snow and started shivering rather more in earnest, arms pulled tight around his middle.]

[He's cold. He's cold. He's so, so, so cold, and even if the agony that should precede it isn't there, there's every chance that it will be.]

[souris_keteer]

THWACK! That's the sound of a snowball smacking Mickey's hat right off his head. He blinks a few times, and then calmly picks it back up, adjusting it on his head, and smirking at the direction from whence the attack came.

"... I think you just declared war."

[ungrieved]

Gabe simply responds with a devilish grin. He's ready, mouse-thing. He's ready to throw his rock-packed snowballs and knock you clean over as many times as it takes. He could use some good old heart-pounding exercise to warm him up anyway.

Finally, some good fucking food.

"Then you'd better get on that," he says cheekily, scooping up another palmful of snow to lob it fiercely in Mickey's direction.

[souris_keteer]

Mickey laughs, running to avoid another blow. He's clueless that these snowballs are dangerous, never suspecting that Gabe actually wants to hurt someone. "Okay, but don't expect me to go easy on you!" He laughs again, grabbing some fistfuls of snow and quickly packing them together.

[ungrieved]

"By all means."

He's going to have to time this right, if he really wants to hit him hard. Maybe even let Mickey land a snowball or two, just to get his guard down. A heavy shard of rock gets rolled up in the next fistful of white powder, held ready at his side as he deliberately slows, making himself an easy target.

[souris_keteer]

With one perfectly rolled up, Mickey aims upward, and chucks it, constantly running and never stopping. The height difference will definitely make this interesting. "Ha ha ha! We did this every winter back home!"

[ungrieved]

He lets it splat untidily across his front. Cold it might be, it’s wirth it if it gets Mickey to relax his guard.

“Which part?” he calls idly. “The running or the throwing?”

[souris_keteer]

"Both!" Mickey now was trying to run a full circle around Gabe. "That's how you win! You never stop, you never lose!"

... Unless you wound up exhausted from some much running, which was what always happened when Mickey did this every winter, leading to his eventual loss every single time. But Gabe didn't need to know that.

[ungrieved]

“Yeah?” He tries sticking out a foot in the hopes of tripping the little sucker, but he’s sluggish from the cold and lack of proper winter apparel. It’s a bit hard to concentrate on much of anything when he’s shivering this much, but it’s not as if he’s about to acknowledge that any time soon.

[souris_keteer]

"Ha ha! See? When you run this fast, you're always warm, and you're never cold!" Mickey gleefully threw another snowball. "I'm building up warmth, while you're shivering and shaking and..."

... Wait. That's not good. He actually begins to slow down. "... Wait, are you okay?"

[ungrieved]

Who, him? He’s fine. Clearly. Apparently the attempt to trip him up was as much of a wash as everything else so far, but despite the violence of his quaking - this is what happens when you snow-fight in jeans and a t-shirt and nothing else, take note - Gabe is still grinning.

“Come on, hit me with your best shot!” Arms spread wide, standing stock still - he’s an irresistible target.

[souris_keteer]

Mickey's hand lowers up and down. Gabe sure doesn't look well... But if Gabe himself doesn't mind... but Mickey knows what it's like to hide your pain... Eventually, he decides the loss to his dignity doesn't matter, compared to the health of a friend.

He stops running and drops the snowball. "I give. I'm no match for you."

[ungrieved]

What’s he doing? He just - he’s just giving up? Who does that?

The shock on his features doesn’t last long. Almost immediately, it gives way to drawn-up fury. He’s giving up before the best part has even happened? What’s wrong with him?

“I told you to hit me. So hit me!”