It's a crisp day outside, and last night deposited what is perhaps the absolutely perfect amount of snow for a snowball fight. The sun is bright and the snow sparkles pristinely
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Makita is one of those enterprising people with a snow fort. She has dug out the back of a snow drift in such a way that, from the back door of the bar her fort is invisible. It is well stocked with snowballs, and she's watching diligently for someone to pelt with them.
How's Mel for a target? She's certainly presenting one, strolling idly over the ground exposed by people taking snow for preparations, with a sling sack over one shoulder.
Someone who knew her might know that Mel doesn't generally stroll quite that slowly. They might also think her whistling a bit strange.
And Makita certainly knows Mel well enough that Something Is Up. Still, it's an opportunity that really can't be passed up, so Makita picks up a snowball. And launches it. Really she should duck down behind the wall before it hits so that she can stay hidden, but then she wouldn't get to see Mel (hopefully) covered in snow.
Mel, the conniving little so-and-so, drops instantly to the floor and lets the snowball pass over her head, but not before a snowball already in her hand is sent off in the direction that one came from.
A second later, and she's running a zig-zag towards the fort.
Mel doesn't have a fort. Which may have been lax of her.
It may also be because she's been devoting time and effort to working, and Slaying,
...and filling a sling sack full of snowballs. She's sitting now in a tree at the very edge of the forest, just high enough to be in the thick of the foliage, and surrounded by more snowballs loading her branch.
Phil was caught by a stray snowball, and Mel looks like a very likely suspect to her. So Philippus scoops up a double handful of snow, packs it, winds up--
Amazons do the trick of "wasn't me, I'm looking this way!" too. Philippus suspects her opponent is merely crafty.
She ducks, catching the snowball on her forearm through reflex. And because causing someone to fall out of a tree just isn't on, she waits until Mel is settled on her higher branch to retaliate.
War she can handle. It's what she's out for, of course.
Mel doesn't just duck the snowball, she swings backwards on her knees to hang underneath the branch. She's been planning this first move for a while, and it probably shows. So all that his projectile succeeds it is to dislodge some of her ammo supplies, making them fall to the gorund in a large soft flump!
Ben startles a bit, and looks down at the missed projectile, his mind starting on the long task of pulling back from his deep ponderings; it will only take a few seconds, but its a few seconds the unseen shooter would have to recalibrate his aim, and...
Ah, early mornings, when one couldn't find Rachel on the lake, one could often see her drifting out of a window towards the lake.
Like this morning, spandex clad, tired, and hair a bit wild, she didn't notice the preparations below until she was halfway across. Then? Then she blinked and slowly grinned. Sure, she made a hell of a target sitting upside down in the air, but she was having fun making people's ammo roll away...
And there's a sister, running straight across the battlefield towards the lakeside with a huge grin on her face, and probably still snowballs being thrown at her.
And there's a Not'Cat, raining snowballs at the sister, grinning as he is forced out from behind his snowfort to keep up the steady pelting of snowballs.
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Someone who knew her might know that Mel doesn't generally stroll quite that slowly. They might also think her whistling a bit strange.
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A second later, and she's running a zig-zag towards the fort.
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It may also be because she's been devoting time and effort to working, and Slaying,
...and filling a sling sack full of snowballs. She's sitting now in a tree at the very edge of the forest, just high enough to be in the thick of the foliage, and surrounded by more snowballs loading her branch.
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Phil was caught by a stray snowball, and Mel looks like a very likely suspect to her. So Philippus scoops up a double handful of snow, packs it, winds up--
whump.
Hi, Mel!
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A snowball comes hurtling out of the tree and she leaps up to the next branch.
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She ducks, catching the snowball on her forearm through reflex. And because causing someone to fall out of a tree just isn't on, she waits until Mel is settled on her higher branch to retaliate.
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Those are strange snow-formations, aren't they? Hm. How odd.
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From where Mel sits, as he emerges from the forest, he makes a prime target.
Nice fluffy snowball been thrown lightly at 6 o'clock!
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White-clad shoulders hunch as the cold strikes the back of his white-haired head. Oh dear, some of the snow falls down the back of his shirt.
He turns to raise an eyebrow at Mel.
You know, of course, this means war.
Snow= scooped, packed, and thrown.
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Mel doesn't just duck the snowball, she swings backwards on her knees to hang underneath the branch. She's been planning this first move for a while, and it probably shows. So all that his projectile succeeds it is to dislodge some of her ammo supplies, making them fall to the gorund in a large soft
flump!
Grinning, she throws a second pre-made ball.
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Ranging shot.
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And the sound of laughter.
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Like this morning, spandex clad, tired, and hair a bit wild, she didn't notice the preparations below until she was halfway across. Then? Then she blinked and slowly grinned. Sure, she made a hell of a target sitting upside down in the air, but she was having fun making people's ammo roll away...
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It was just a distraction though, honest...because the snow behind Mel was slowly forming up into a snow beast!
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