Frisk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dustless) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault2018-01-07 03:57 am
dustless) wrote in castle_perrault2018-01-07 03:57 am
Entry tags:
let it snow, here we go! [age event: begin]
//Everyone seemed down for it! Any thoughts or questions can go here~
The air sharpens and chills, frost crawling from the top of the tallest towers and branches to creep along the castle grounds. The trees with leaves quickly fall bare; the sky bubbles with clouds not long before they start sprinkling snowflakes over it all. Winter has finally settled in.
It's not all iciness and faded colors--in fact, it's quite the opposite. While outside is snowy, sparkling winter, inside changed to match. Most of the rooms alone can't keep out the cold, but fireplace after fireplace spring up to crackle merrily and invitingly. Someone (or something) set a mood for celebration, decking the halls with evergreen branches and baubles, glimmering ribbons and candles, color and cheer! And the kitchens have feasts to match, any sort of roast and pie one could hope for, paired with mashed potatoes and puddings and cookies and drinks.
Even the halls ring with celebration. In the distance, voices are caroling their hearts out. It's a pity they always seem to be moving too far away to meet.
All this will greet the castle denizens when they wake up in the morning...as well as changes to themselves.
Not that they'll always know. The child who will one day be Frisk certainly doesn't.
All they know is that it's cold, and Mama--who just cut their hair for reasons they don't understand--is nowhere to be seen.
...There's doorways inside, but they make themselves heard long before they get all the way to the big walls. They've got a toy firetruck in their hands with tons of buttons, and they slam their fingers on them to make the siren go off.
WEE-OO WEE-OO WEEE-OOO! Mama's gonna hear that no matter where she is, and they don't even need to open their mouth.
The air sharpens and chills, frost crawling from the top of the tallest towers and branches to creep along the castle grounds. The trees with leaves quickly fall bare; the sky bubbles with clouds not long before they start sprinkling snowflakes over it all. Winter has finally settled in.
It's not all iciness and faded colors--in fact, it's quite the opposite. While outside is snowy, sparkling winter, inside changed to match. Most of the rooms alone can't keep out the cold, but fireplace after fireplace spring up to crackle merrily and invitingly. Someone (or something) set a mood for celebration, decking the halls with evergreen branches and baubles, glimmering ribbons and candles, color and cheer! And the kitchens have feasts to match, any sort of roast and pie one could hope for, paired with mashed potatoes and puddings and cookies and drinks.
Even the halls ring with celebration. In the distance, voices are caroling their hearts out. It's a pity they always seem to be moving too far away to meet.
All this will greet the castle denizens when they wake up in the morning...as well as changes to themselves.
Not that they'll always know. The child who will one day be Frisk certainly doesn't.
All they know is that it's cold, and Mama--who just cut their hair for reasons they don't understand--is nowhere to be seen.
...There's doorways inside, but they make themselves heard long before they get all the way to the big walls. They've got a toy firetruck in their hands with tons of buttons, and they slam their fingers on them to make the siren go off.
WEE-OO WEE-OO WEEE-OOO! Mama's gonna hear that no matter where she is, and they don't even need to open their mouth.
no subject
A lopsided grin grows. They shake their head, though, and say "Nuh-uh," 'cause it wasn't, it's just been something they've had for as long as they remember.
They point at his staff in turn. Not meaning the same question back, only--what is it? Is it his wand?
no subject
He tosses it to his other hand and gives it a theatrical twirl. "Want to see a magic trick?" Without waiting for an answer, he jabs the staff at the snow beneath Frisk's feet. It spins and swirls away from them, and Jack guides it to tumble and pile off to one side, mounding up and up and shaping itself as he conducts it with his staff like a conductor manages an orchestra.
The end result is a snowman! Or, most of one. It's missing the fine details of a face that a proper snowman usually requires, because Jack's magic does not extend to carrots and coal. But the general idea is probably there.
"Ta-da!"
no subject
"Magic! Snow magic!" they crow, nearly tripping over loose shoelaces to get closer to examine the snowman and Jack himself.