Winter Warble - 8
December 22, 2021
Merlow joins the fray!
But that, Merlow thought with a grin as Feliks succeeded in knocking Nocturne’s glasses off with a well-aimed snowball and a brief timeout ensued just long enough for Nocturne to pick them up, polish the lenses on the hem of his shirt, and slip them back on his face...
...would be cheating.
“Hey!” he called, and lobbed a snowball into the fray that barely scuffed Sven’s boots. “I’m comin’, hold up!”
“No holding up in war, Rose!”
And with that warning dutifully delivered, pandemonium exploded into being at the hands of five giggling bards and a great deal of snow. To Merlow’s great relief, Nocturne was right about the exercise, and though everyone was careful not to send him flailing into any more snowbanks, he got more than his fair share of snowballs pelted at him. In search of fresh snow to ruin, or perhaps just using the momentum of the fight to get to where they were going anyway, the court slowly moved up to the ridge, laughing and throwing snowy projectiles the entire way. At the top, Sven and Diana went down in a tangle of limbs and rolled down to the bottom in a snowy heap of giggles, leaving Feliks to dump one last handful of snow down the back of Nocturne’s disheveled shirt before they vaulted over his shoulder with a little hum of magical assistance and hopped down to the pair. A head poked out of one of the now visible wagons, followed promptly by a hundred layers of wool and cotton that bounced down to the ground and scurried over.