Welcome to Gaia! ::

Malik was relieved at Magda's response and quickly sprawled out beside her, making his own little snow pillow to support his head. So it was not Magda, but sort of Magda.So this sort of Magda was someone he needed to meet. Maybe it was her sister? He thought he'd heard her mention a sister....

"Hello, sister of Magda! I'm Malik and it is nice to meet you," he called to her, rolling halfway onto Magda to try and get Maysy to hear him through her snow head.

A claw poked out of the snow pile, followed by a second, and after some wiggling of the digits the fishimp gained a very real third eye. It peered at Magda thoughtfully. She wanted her to meet someone who wrote books with her, but that she could also keep, which surely made it something. But Maysy could clearly hear it speaking as well.

This riddle wasn't so difficult!

"You found a fanciful talking fountainpen?" she asked. "Floodfilling or fixed-spring?"

Magda laughed, her finger raising to correct her sister's mistake, when the words stuck in her throat. She thought about it for a moment, and reverse-scienced the clues that had led Maysy to such an idea. Then she doubted herself slightly, and leaned in to give Malik a closer look. She reached out and touched his face, patting it with gentle touches.

Bapbap.

"Are you a fanciful talking fountainpen?" She wondered aloud, checking him for ink stains. "No, you are a boil, I know better. Maysy, he is a boil, I checked!"

Well that just came out wrong.

There were a great many people gathered around this booth, and even after Bren had approached he couldn't quite figure out why. He had read enough about the Christmas holiday to know that snowmen were a large part of it, but he could no more see the use in actually building one than he could lying in the road waiting to be hit by a hearse. Snow was so unnecessarily cold. For a child of the desert, handling the stuff for more than a minute at a time seemed terribly unwise.

Even so, he was never one to deny the pull of his curiosity, despite the fact that the end result here promised to be less than desirable. Bren looked over the area at the sorts of things everyone was using to craft their snow creations, and it was only then that he noticed the thoroughly strange items people were gathering. Garbage bags, tomatoes, broken lamps, and oddest of all... what looked like someone's very sculpted stomach. In mold form.

Veering away from those (why were there so many of them?), Brenley grabbed some snowballs and carrots. They were a staple of any good snowman. He even began to grab some yellow snow for color, when something in the back of his mind told him he probably shouldn't. He piled the snow and added a delightful carrot nose and a tomato toupee, but no one arrived to congratulate him on his construction. Hm.

She wasn't getting any happier. He Jacked up. He Jacked up.

"Olivia... no stop. It was supposed to be funny." he stared at her dejected. "Ok you can probably fix it. It's just snow, should be easy right?" Right. Right?

"I mean... it's undead anyways.... I'll go find more stuff. Andrew shuffled off, knowing he was just digging his own hole.

Maybe he could just dig a hole in the snow and be buried there. Then he would be less annoying for her.

Brute was apparently not very good at stalking his new "friends" like the marvellous apex predator he was, because along the way, a great many things had begun to distract him, and that of course made him lose them, and then it has taken him some time to hunt them down, which brought him here, to this strange booth with strange ice creatures that were handing him strange tools.

It was all very very strange.

He still hadn't put his shirts back on, though he had somehow managed to figure out how to use his hands well enough to tie both sets of sleeves around his neck so that he now appeared to have a double cape resting upon his impressive shoulders and back. This meant, of course, that he was not only just Brute, but Super Brute!

Except if he was asked he would still just call himself "Brute". The Super was obviously implied by the capes and did not need to be spoken.

From a distance, he eyed his "friends" and what they were doing, but the strange ice creature was becoming rather impatient with him, and seemed determined that Brute follow it towards a chunk of ice. He did this, eventually, but only after snapping his teeth in the pingu's direction a few times.

With chisel held awkwardly in his hand, he had a glance around at what everyone else was doing with their blocks of ice, before getting the idea of what it was he was meant to do, and setting to work.

He got sick of using the chisel within seconds, and switched to his teeth.

Within minutes, the block of ice was gone, and Brute had the most wickedly terrible case of brain freeze ever to exist. He fell to the ground and curled up in the snow with several whimpering growls as he writhed in sudden agony, his hands clutching at his helm.

Gabby was so done with this failure bull honkie.

It might have been vague, and it might not have been artistically creative, but Gabby managed to carve out the bare shape of a penguin, despite really not having any artistic ability at all.

Again, he knew he could just blow on it to make it perfect, but there were too many people around, and cheating was only okay if you didn't get caught.

GABBY WAS SERIOUSLY SO MAD ABOUT THIS ICE SCULPTURE THING.

He began to collect items for snowmen out of sheer rage and contempt, though he did manage to stop in front of Merope's creation to give it a quick, wide eyed stare before moving on.