02-02-2016, 09:28 AM
WEIR
Once, Winter had chilled Weir to the bone, almost quite literally. Now, Winter was his playground- the year through.
No longer did the red shiver and shake with the drop of the temperature. Truthfully he had come to not feel the cold- not anymore. Now, he welcomed the snow, the ice, the brisk air that sent flurries of flakes curling across the drifts. He welcomed it, like he welcomed each new day and when there was no snow to play in- well, he made some. Weir took delight in his gifts, sculpting ice formations to look like his heard mates. To look like creatures that were far too cold to traverse the fields anymore. Random figurines of squirrels and raccoons could be found where Weir had been, leaving an assortment of amusement to look upon.
He too left long glittering icicles dangling from the trees, clinging from the boughs in intricate swirls and patterns. It was only at night that his senses dulled, that unease crept up his back and he tucked himself away in a horse-sized igloo. (The children too, when they wished to share it). One where an amber light radiated from within, Weir's Christmas cheer magic pulsating from the depths of his ice cave. An attempt to keep the dread at bay, to get himself and Darwin through the night. True that Darwin did not feel the great prickles of fear clawing his skin at night. Darwin did not do many things, he did not tire. nor did his body hunger for sustenance. He did not drink, nor did he ache, yet somehow still, he did exist.
Since Weir had pulled the great Galapagos tortoise from the pool, they had been inseparable. Even now they traveled as one, spinning through the air as a swirl of frosty wind and flakes. Spiraling across the Dale is a swarm of snow, before someone calls to them. The game is up. The King's voice reaching his ears, though it is not to be discerned which flakes are his ears right now. Instead, he simply blows on over, twirling about Ramiel for a moment before the flakes amass into a thick whiteout. He appears again from the bottom up, the flakes dispersing to first reveal his legs, his chest, then him- and Darwin is right beside him.
"Hallo, halloo" He laughs, looking bright this afternoon, dipping his head. "It is just I, Weir. And this, is Darwin." He beams proudly, the tortoise quite large, it's long neck bringing it's head to meet Weir's shoulder.
No longer did the red shiver and shake with the drop of the temperature. Truthfully he had come to not feel the cold- not anymore. Now, he welcomed the snow, the ice, the brisk air that sent flurries of flakes curling across the drifts. He welcomed it, like he welcomed each new day and when there was no snow to play in- well, he made some. Weir took delight in his gifts, sculpting ice formations to look like his heard mates. To look like creatures that were far too cold to traverse the fields anymore. Random figurines of squirrels and raccoons could be found where Weir had been, leaving an assortment of amusement to look upon.
He too left long glittering icicles dangling from the trees, clinging from the boughs in intricate swirls and patterns. It was only at night that his senses dulled, that unease crept up his back and he tucked himself away in a horse-sized igloo. (The children too, when they wished to share it). One where an amber light radiated from within, Weir's Christmas cheer magic pulsating from the depths of his ice cave. An attempt to keep the dread at bay, to get himself and Darwin through the night. True that Darwin did not feel the great prickles of fear clawing his skin at night. Darwin did not do many things, he did not tire. nor did his body hunger for sustenance. He did not drink, nor did he ache, yet somehow still, he did exist.
Since Weir had pulled the great Galapagos tortoise from the pool, they had been inseparable. Even now they traveled as one, spinning through the air as a swirl of frosty wind and flakes. Spiraling across the Dale is a swarm of snow, before someone calls to them. The game is up. The King's voice reaching his ears, though it is not to be discerned which flakes are his ears right now. Instead, he simply blows on over, twirling about Ramiel for a moment before the flakes amass into a thick whiteout. He appears again from the bottom up, the flakes dispersing to first reveal his legs, his chest, then him- and Darwin is right beside him.
"Hallo, halloo" He laughs, looking bright this afternoon, dipping his head. "It is just I, Weir. And this, is Darwin." He beams proudly, the tortoise quite large, it's long neck bringing it's head to meet Weir's shoulder.
FIRST WE'LL MAKE SNOW ANGELS FOR TWO HOURS
THEN WE'LL GO ICE SKATING
THEN WE'LL GO ICE SKATING