Cenn_icon.gif Seren_icon.gif

Scene Title Snowball fight
Synopsis Cenn and Seren engage in a battle in the snow.
Location Central Courtyard
Date 16 Haring, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Even nightwings can appreciate snow.
Logger Seren

There are things that Seren usually does in the evening. Sure, they're all things that he has given himself to do, but it keeps him busy enough that he only gets a few suspicious looks from time to time. But this time? He's made it to mid-courtyard and you know? It's a lot whiter than he remembers it. Somehow he missed all that 'look, it's snowing' and landed right in the middle of 'what the fuck is all of this?'. Revas, on the other hand, couldn't be happier. In fact, she's winging toward a pile of the stuff and just letting herself flop into it. The elf, on the other hand, is sort of stopped in the spot where he realized his feet were very, very cold.

This year has been exhausting, to say the least. Since coming to Kirkwall, Cenn hasn't had a solid moment of it really feeling like home. He's tried, surely. Drinking, socializing, trips out the wilderness that were… Beautiful. Even, for a while, a bright place outside of the Gallows that had tried valiantly to be a home to him. None of it had really stuck, through his own doing, or external forces. When the snow started to fall, though, it was familiar, though he hasn't had a lot of opportunity to come out an appreciate it. Today, though, he's out in a thick, Ferelden coat that catches snowflakes along his shoulders. There's a small smile on his face as he comes out into the courtyard, holding out a gloved hand to collect snow in his palm. As of yet, he hasn't noticed Seren or Revas, lost in thoughts of home.

The thing is, Revas noticed Cenn and the snow is forgotten as she makes for the Templar's shoulder. At the very least, she's remembered to ask first. Unfortunately, this means the human is going to end up covered in a dusting of snow that had been on her wings. "Revas! Wait…" There's a sigh that's probably been expressed by every parent on the planet that has had to stop telling their child to stop because it's just too late. Seren gets to do that a lot with this bird. But now that the silence is broken? He looks directly at Cenn and makes a very confused declaration. "There is snow out here." It probably doesn't carry the weight he'd like it to carry, since of COURSE there is snow. He's also probably the most comically confused elf in the world at the moment. "How… no. When did we get this?"

As Revas comes to perch on his shoulder, Cenn laughs. Not seeming to mind the dusting of snow, he reaches to pet at the nightwing fondly. Looking to Seren then, Cenn tilts his head. "Yes, there is." He says, because yes, that is a rather obvious statement. Though he's not stopped moving, going deeper into the Courtyard, and thus deeper into snow, though it's not gathered all that high as of yet. His boots are more than tall enough to keep snow off of him, and so he's going to enjoy himself. "It's been falling for a few days now, on and off." He answers, smiling a little, "Not used to it, I take it?"

Seren looks up, reaching out to catch the falling stuff and study it until it melts. "I've never seen it before. I always made sure to keep myself on laundry duty as punishment in the Winter." He watches that walk into the deeper stuff and shakes his head. "You're used to it?" He takes a step into one of the drifts as if to test the temperature. "Did you get a lot of snow in Ferelden? When I was a boy, I heard stories, but I always thought there was a little exaggeration in them. Waist high snows, that sort of thing."

Cenn bends down to the snow, taking up a handful of it to let fall slowly through gloved fingers. "Yes, I am." He says idly, running his thumb through the powdery snow in his hand. "That's no exaggeration, though, snow to the waist. Not every year, but particularly bitter winters, especially in the foothills, could absolutely get that much snowfall."

Seren considers this for a moment and then reaches down to take up a handfull of snow to warm between his palms just enough to pack together. "I've also heard that people play in it, which is easier to believe. I'm also now certain that any clans that travel through must be adept at wearing shoes." The small bundle of snow in his hand is considered. "You really throw these things at eachother?" It's asked as if someone must have been having him on. Revas, of course, is just enjoying the hell out of all of this and has made a game of trying to catch the snow before it hits Cenn's head. Of course, most of the time she misses and there are disgruntled bird noises aplenty.

"Sometimes, yeah." Cenn says with a nod, looking over his shoulder at Seren, "Mostly children. Maker knows I have thousands of times. You can build in it like sand, too." Bending to the snow again, there's another handful of snow taken up, this one larger, and packed down into a neat ball quickly. "As for the elves that travel in it… Well, all I know is I never saw Rylan wear shoes, and he liked snow well enough."

Seren considers the ball in his hand as if debating its future with himself before tossing it in Cenn's direction. It's not a hard toss and the snowball isn't terribly packed- he's too new to it to have it down- but he seems pleased with his effort. "We used to make ditches and hills to hide behind in the sand. Someone came up with the idea of tossing small cloth balls filled with colored powder once. …none of us knew it was dye."

It's not well thrown, but Cenn's broad, and this fluffy cloak really doesn't help with that problem. The loose packed snowball hits his shoulder and breaks into powdery whiteness. The Templar laughs a little, and shakes his head. "Be firmer with it, they fly more accurately when packed down." And then Seren is getting a snowball sent back at him, aimed at his arm, packed well enough to fly but loose enough to stick where it lands.

Seren laughs. "No taking it easy on the novice?" He picks up yet more snow, packing it down with determination before returning fire. "…I suddenly regret not learning to be a better aim. Who knew the hunter's path would have prepared me for battles in the snow?" Revas stops her bid at capturing snow to peer over Cenn's head at her elf with 'if I get hit, it's on' expressed in both her gaze and warning hoot.

"If I wasn't taking it easy, it would have been your face, not your arm." Cenn says with a smirk, stepping around the side of fountain. But he has to bend as he moves, taking up another handful of snow. It's enough of a pause to have this second snowball catch him on the leg. Suddenly he's very thankful for this boots, as this has more force, and stays where it lands. "Better." He says before sending another snowball in Seren's direction.

Seren pulls a face at Cenn, but it's gone as he's hit by another. This time in the chest. It may be the one time he's thankful for those ridiculous robes. There's very little cover to be had, but he makes do with a mound of snow that provides ammunition for his next attempt. He's at least getting better at the 'making the snowball' portion, even if his aim could use some work. "How do you decide who wins these battles?" Not that, you know, he's convinced he's going to manage.

"It's not really about winning." Cenn calls back with a laugh. Seren's aim could use work, and Cenn's been doing this since he was a small child, so that particular snowball is ducked. Though it hits the wall behind him, and it stays there. Another snowball is sent back, this one hastily thrown as the Templar drops down into the snow and begins banking. There really isn't enough of it for this, but a man can dream.

Seren might have said something, except suddenly his reply is nothing but sputters that end in a laugh. Instead of remaining behind his cover, he opts using his ability to move in general silence to work his way behind the mounded snow. A pair of snowballs are made as he moves and he peers over the top for just a second before tossing them in Cenn's direction. "That's a very good thing, because I would stand no chance." Hey, he can laugh at his own lack of ability to hit things on purpose.

His sadly built little fort would just have to do. It's really not much cover for a man Cenn's height, but he's grinning like a child nevertheless. One of those snowballs hits the frail wall, crumbling a bit of it, but the other? It lands squarely in Cenn's face. But Cenn doesn't even brush the snow away before making another snowball and returning fire. All of these clothes would be soaked when he got inside, but that's a price he is willing to pay.

Seren lets out a sound that is part victory, part laugh that's cut short by a snowball clipping him in the head so that it pretty much sprays his hair. By the time this is over, he's going to look like a very cold drowned rat right down to the frozen bare feet and hands. For now, he's too busy creating more ammunition to think about it, tossing each one without really taking enough time for a careful aim. Of course, Revas has taken a safe perch on top the fountain and is watching the contest and offering her own brand of encouragement to both sides.

Some of those snowballs land home, some of them add to Cenn's wall of snow, some of them miss entirely. Honestly, Seren's outcome isn't all that much better than Cenn's own, sending hasty snowballs back. It's not about the accuracy, it's just joyful. There is only so long that such frivolity can last in the Kirkwall Circle, though, and Cenn would rather cut them a little short than have someone walk out into the courtyard who would not approve. "Alright, alright, truce?" He calls, standing up from his makeshift fort, "I, sadly, have places to be once I'm once again in things even remotely dry. And you'll freeze your fingers off if you're out here too long."

Seren laughs. "Truce? I think you should declare victory." He stands, showing the state of his hair and robes and he'd be absolutely soaked if it were anywhere near warm. "Once I've wrung out my robes I should be…" He looks down and shakes his head. "A really sad sight. Thank you. I no longer dread this stuff as much as I did when the prospect of Winter reared its head." He glances at the fort and shakes his head. "You realize you're twice as big as that thing?" He walks past and pats Cenn on the arm. "Go get warm. Creators know I'm going to be huddled under my blanket with some of Revas' 'hunted' rum."

"Oh yes, I am well aware." Cenn snorts, glancing down at the fort he'd made, "But I had to work with what I had. Waist deep snow is better for such ventures." Running a hand through his hair, he shakes out most of the powder that's there, but there's still enough to lighten the look of already blonde hair. "I'm glad it's less daunting now. Have a good evening, Seren." And with a shake of his shoulders that sends a fairly significant amount of snow cascading from his cloak, Cenn walks off toward his room, and his fire, where he can hang this all up to dry.

Seren raises a hand in parting as he makes for his own room. "Dareth shiral, Cenn. Dream of larger drifts of snow for your forts, hm?" He looks up at Revas. "Coming, da'vhenan?" The nightwing's response is a few second of hesitation before she relinquishes her perch in favor of the elf's shoulder. At least with a room the size of a closet, it shouldn't take too long to warm up.

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