Snowball fight -- party post!

[no_mere_marble]

Contrary to popular belief, there is snow in the higher mountains of Greece and Asia Minor in winter.

When Antinoos came in from sweltering Thebes tonight and found snow outside, he got himself warm clothes like a Greek hunter or Roman soldier in winter would wear, and ran right outside. He had missed snow!

Now he's out there, enjoying the snow and the cold, and acting, for once, exactly as young as he is. After a while, he finds that he can't resist the idea of surprising some poor unfortunate (he's outside, so it's no violence, right), and when a somewhat small and scruffy fellow comes outside, he gets a soft, large snowball right in the face, from a safe position twenty yards away, in the bushes.

Ned Poins, however, is well versed with ambushes, so he spots soon where the attack came from, and gathers snow to retaliate, running towards the shrubbery -- and so, the battle is joined, and soon, there is a big white-and-brown dog yelping excitedly, and a big, blond Scotsman grinning widely and waiting to decide which side to take.

However, when you come outside today, you might get caught in the crossfire; or perhaps you'd like to join the battle just for the fun of it?



[[OOC: Party post -- tag in, then splat somebody else! Have at! Open until the weekend ends. Snowball fight as per this post.]]
[[ETA: Gone to bed now -- please threadhop and have the snowball fight among yourselves! Thanks!]]

Comments

[says_the_booyah]

"You're some sort of soldier?" The sort who still glorifies war, at that.

[poins]

"Not much of one," Poins says. "But yes, I can fight if I must."

[says_the_booyah]

"I'm no soldier myself. But I fight. More than I like." There is a world of difference between snowball fights and war.

[poins]

"Thou seemst as if thou mayest," Poins nods.

[says_the_booyah]

He slowly carves out his next snowballs. "Where are you from? And when?"

[poins]

"Eastcheap," Poins says. "London, England, Earth. The year of Our Lord fourteen and twelve."

[says_the_booyah]

"Wow, that is a long time ago.

"At home." Well, maybe here too.

"I'm from about seven hundred years later."

[poins]

"And by that time, those that have lost their limbs will get them back in shiny armament?" Poins says, still fascinated.

[says_the_booyah]

"Not usually. I was an experiment. But they're making progress with artificial limbs of all sorts." Two fresh snowballs launch.

[poins]

Poins gets hit by the first, steps aside -- right into the path of the second!

"Ooof," he says. "In any case, whate'er thy limbs are made of, thou hitst well!"

[says_the_booyah]

"I'm not trying to really throw these hard, you know. It wouldn't be fun to try to hurt anyone."

[poins]

"It truly would not, thou art right," Poins says, grins, and throws another snowball at the semi-metal man.

[says_the_booyah]

"And I don't think there has to be a winner."

Pause. More snowballs.

"But it would be me anyway."

[poins]

Poins laughs, and throws more balls.

"There need not be a winner; 'tis a game meant just for the joy of it, throwing great clouds of snow into the air and then end up all laughing, white, and panting, and needing hot wassail to be warm."

[says_the_booyah]

"Wassail?" Cy doesn't really get cold the way he used to. He isn't sure that is a good thing.

[poins]

"Hot apple cider, warmed with honey, with spice swimming in and, if one's lucky, raisins?" Poins says.

[says_the_booyah]

"Ah.

"I prefer hot cocoa. With marshmallows."

[poins]

"I tried that here as well, but if one's cold, or wet, or both, some proper drink with drink in will be the better medicine!" Poins says.

[says_the_booyah]

"You mean alcohol? Not my thing." He can't even get drunk, from what he knows. Too many filters in the system.

[poins]

"Would it tarnish thy limbs?" Poins asks.

[says_the_booyah]

Cy laughs at that. "Nah. I just don't like to drink, that's all."

[poins]

"Is it forbidden by thy faith, then?" Poins asks.

[says_the_booyah]

"You ask a lot of questions, dude." Which is not a problem but is a surprise. "Believe it or not, my body filters out alcohol. I can't get drunk."

[poins]

"That," Poins ponders, "is a great pity, and thou doest miss out on much."

He shrugs; non-conforming life choices do not get much respect in medieval England (who then would choose to stay forever sober??), but such thing -- it happens.

"More snowballs, then, before I run out of all breath and warmth?" he suggests.

[says_the_booyah]

"You asked for it!" Cy is always up for a good snowball fight. Even with someone who just doesn't get him.

[ooc: fade?]