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

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[That changes their tune because five strikes is hella generous. You know what, she's okay, even if she rigs her throws. Emboldened again, Frisk slaps their cheeks with a huff before getting into a... sumo wrestler stance?? It's SERIOUS now.]

Ready.

[The shift in posture makes her expression change in turn-so it's back on? Good. She studies the way they positioned themself, like there's some kind of ancient baseball technique hidden in their tiny body she'll figure out if she stares hard enough.

HM.

She quickly scoops another snowball together and tosses it, aiming far above their head-they're short!! This could work!! Good luck, bean! She's still rooting for them though.]

[Oh heck it -- going long]

[Frisk whips around on their heel and darts off in the same direction as the snowball's trajectory, running like a miniature fiend out of hell. They're pretty nimble, but even with a headstart, they can't outrun the true aerodynamic quality of a snowball -- they are only human, after all. They've only got one chance at this.]

[With a flourish, Frisk leaps into a dive at the snowball's downward arc, twisting their torso around... just in time for it to splat against their face. Silently they plop down into the snow, lying inert for a few victorious, ice cold moments.]

[Then they raise a thumb high into the air. Nailed it.]

[Trying to root for both teams is rough. This kid runs towards the ball like it's a special treasure trying to escape their grasp and she has to hold back a quiet cheer, because she wants to win too. This weird fusion of emotion makes her hands raise halfway, like she's mid-way into making the 'y' in ymca, and watch.

Wait.

And-

She can't hold back when the snowball smacks right into their face-she's already throwing her arms in the air and when they raise their hand, she has to agree.

They nailed it.

She hurries over to their side, smile wide and bright. Ren's so proud of them.]

You did it! You get 100 points because it hit your small face. That's how it is.

[Don't argue with her. Points are an alola baseball feature.]

[Reveling in their victory, Frisk doesn't start sitting up until Ren has made it to their side. They wipe snow off of their face with a sleeve, revealing the corners of their mouth pulled up into a small smile. Their nose has reddened a little from the ice, but Frisk themself seems absolutely elated and immune to cold.]

[Their bun has gone askew from the slide, so they reach up and undo it completely, pushing their fingers through their rather fluffy hair and shaking out bits of frost. They beam up at Ren and puff out a little wisp of misty breath.]

[They gotta be honest, that was a great throw. Whether they'd managed to catch it in the schnoz or not, they would've been impressed either way.]

Then you get 150 for hitting it.

[She's not going to argue about the amount of points divvied out for a good throw. Sounds legit to her and she readily accepts this intangible reward with a huge smile. It's equivalent to a gold medal for, what should be, a new Olympic sport-snowfacing.

They seem like they got the snow off their face and out of their hair, for the most part, but Ren offers her own service by fanning her hand in front of their face. That'll dry off any residual wetness the snow might've left.]

We should put them together. 100 plus 150 means we get a gold star.

[Screw actual math. This is addition for winners. The exchange rate for points to gold stars are at an all time high and she's ready to cash in.]

Then we both win.

[For the moment, Frisk doesn't put their hair back up -- it's cold enough that it's a better idea to leave it down, anyway. Their smile widens at the assistance, and they tuck an errand strand of their bangs behind their ear so that it stops fluttering in the Ren-generated wind.]

[They tie the ribbon loosely around their wrist, then, lift both hands, one displaying two fingers while the other displays five.]

250. More like too-hundred-nifty.

[Frisk did you even try.]

[They tried way harder than Ren's about to. The sudden math term-nifty-is thrown out there so fast, she temporarily halts her hand waving to mentally....add that in. She doesn't get wordplay. She's bad. A bad child that tries to wrack her brain for how high a nifty is-it's probably more than 250. Higher than 7 for sure, which is the number she gets adding their two hands together. 700?? A nifty is higher than 700 for sure. Maybe.

Bad.]

If it's two hundred nifty-how many gold stars does that make?

[Bad math!! Bad!! Someone app a teacher immediately.]

701?

[This is the worst math ever conceptualized and Frisk 100% approves. They snap a finger as if taken in by a pure bolt of eureka. That's a noun, right?]

702. That way it's even. We both get...

[They trail off suddenly, chewing their tongue and tilting their head. Uh-oh. Now they have to do real, actual math. Frisk bends down and draws their finger through the snow, drawing up a quick and extremely messy equation for dividing 702. Snow flies everywhere. It's very cold.]

351 gold stars.

[Good shit. Good math. Good math shit right here. Ren kneels over the equation, looking at the upside down numbers that begin to take shape in the snow. It's fine. Even right side up, she'd be lost. Turns out you don't need equations when your math requirements for being a catalyst involve single digit numbers for pill counting.

It's perfect. 351-2nifty-702. Incredible. She presses her finger into the snow, outlining star number 1 around the 351 Kittu came up with. Nice. 350 to go.]

We should go back. If we start drawing now, we'll finish our stars before it gets dark.

[The temple's gonna look like a planetarium.]

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

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