Everything has been so serious lately. That is not to say that it was not a justified serious, impending war and all, but just too gloomy for Weir.
It was a shock too, one moment he had been filled to the brim with Christmas spirit in the North Pole, he had been helping Santa Claus. The next he was thrown back into Beqanna, a very confused head and the drums of war beating in the distance. That just wouldn't do.
Today Weir travels to the Meadow, the common grounds, where surely there are others to bring happiness to. Bring a bit of Christmas fun. That's what they all needed he decided, a bit of cheer.
Christmas. Weir knows very well what Christmas is, he had also had the privilege to experience it as a man. He missed it, there was no Christmas in Beqanna but that does not mean that there couldn't be. He would just have to make some. That was it! He would have to make some Christmas, some holiday cheer. Maybe everyone would forget about that silly war, or be distracted long enough to not think of it for a while.
The roan stallion crests the first hill, blinking his amber eyes at the clusters of horses. Fall was a fine season indeed, lots of colors, not too cold, not too hot. The perfect backdrop for Weir's Christmas extravaganza. So, how should he begin? He thinks a long while, Christmas, Christmas, oh yes, snow.
"Right, snow, yes. Some snow we shall have." He speaks to himself, closing his eyes. Flurries begin to appear, swirling about Weir's body, coiling around his legs, his barrel. They build swirling faster and faster, grouping around him to his back. The cluster collects, creating a sphere that Weir sends rocketing into the sky where it bursts spectacularly filling the Meadow with a light snowfall. "Perfect! Now, what is next?" It's a question he asks himself, humming as he decides that there must be some snowmen and he begins to make some.
It's no fun playing alone, so Weir looks around, trying his best to be unassuming but he looks quite suspicious. A chortle sounds from his chest as he makes a snowball, carefully packing snow into itself to make a perfect circle. Then he throws it, yes he does, throws it at the nearest horse where it explodes with amber light- a bit of Christmas cheer tucked inside.
WEIR