He hums while he works. He finds it helps, it works the mind and keeps it moving, a steady, cheerful rhythm. Ever so carefully he packs the snow, first a rather large sphere, that shall be the bottom. Next a medium sized sphere that goes in the middle of course and last a small one- not too small though. It's all fine, just perfectly fine as he busies himself with his work stacking together globes of snow. The work is not hard, it's rather easy and delightful. Weir has always had that tug of magic, though he could feel it only when another had used it and then when he changed it. So this, this is a splendid surprise.
Three, he accomplishes three snowmen, all with small branches jutting from their sides. Snowmen need arms of course, he knows they do, how else would they wave? They don't wave though, not really, but Weir imagines they would if they could do so and he does his best to make it look as though they might.
Terribly plain are his 3 men, nothing like what he's seen in books, nothing like his dream either. Yes, terribly white and plain and lifeless. He ponders what they are missing, what it is they need to be finished and in response carrots crop up. Not one, or two, not five but several. They litter the meadow, bright against the white snowfall, and apples. Apples, spring up along the trees, fat and juicy and ripe for the picking. Carrots, apples, and magic. That familiar tingling feeling creeping along his spine and up his neck- enough to give him goose bumps and shivers.
Food is not the only thing to have sprouted unbiased in the snow, a golden woman appears as well, a look of delight on her lovely face. "Madam that is exactly what we need!" He exclaims with cheer, plucking a carrot from the snow laden earth and plopping it into the nearest snow mans face. "Ahah! There now, that is more like it dont you think?" Weir swings his head back looking at the golden mare as though she might agree. He again selects orange carrot sticks to complete his two others, one is quite crooked. "This is good, he looks distinguished. A handsome sort of fellow if I do say." He's talking to no one, to everyone, to anyone, walking over to say hello.
"A pleasure, a delight, hello I am Weir-" Begins his introduction but the receiver of his cheer ball is approaching, looking miffed. Weir is concerned momentarily, considering if it is best to move along, maybe this was this fellows part of the meadow. He doesn't have to worry though because the new comer is here to contribute. The male with huge black wings begins to bring sculptures of ice to the display. A castle and for Weir it is the castle of King Arthur. The lake isthe one where the Lady must reside, the Lady that gave Arthur the great sword Excalibur.
"Welcome Brennan, this is a fine castle." He still looks at the intricate pattern of ice, studying the fine angles and curves. "Darwin would like it very much." He comments, looking momentarily forlorn. A dapper looking tortoise taking shape from ice next to a deer. "Fantastic!" He is excited at his work, silly as it is, whatever would a tortoise need with a bow tie?
His chuckle is short, someone else was coming, someone who made trees surge into the air. Their boughs reaching for the heavens, the lowest ones taking on decorations, lights and baubles. Beneath are packages, tied up with string and fancy wrappings. Another woman approaches, this one crimson and cream like the suit of the Claus. "What a festive coat, hello, welcome." He greets the one who calls herself Evrae, sniffing at one of the presents.
'Do not open until Christmas'
WEIR