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Scout wobbled in her parka, taking unsure steps in the snow as though she was a newborn fawn. She had never lived in a place that got snow regularly (she thought she remembered it once when she was little?) so the sudden barrage was both unexpected and viewed with wonder.

She walked from the dorm outside and took no time landing in the snow to make a snow angel. For once the more quiet, withdrawn girl had no problem making a complete fool of herself. Scout decided she loved snow.

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Chel was unavailable, as she refused to leave the archives or the safety of her three blankets.

She preferred paperwork over ******** the cold.

---

Ami had always liked the snow. If she made it home, she would've been sad to hear she had missed it. She would be sad for a lot of reasons, but that was besides the point.

Rodney winced at the sculpture casualty as part of the alcove exploded into powder.

"Do you know Horace?" Rodney asked Mikael. "Maybe we should invite him to help."

He knew Horace was...very brave, and a strong fighter, but other than that didn't know him very well.

Leon was the lady who doth protest too much, with the inner tube in hand and looking for a hill to slide down.

He did feel the phone buzzing in his snow pants, or the ones that were at least not going to soak through. Mulled wine from Marcus, it was a tempting thought that make his mouth dry.

The nearby quip from Nora made Leon blink owlishly, was it really so common to see supernatural weather conditions happen on the island. Sure the explosion was something but it was not weather related. gales house did collapse a lot and that was damning evidence. "true but still, not on the island itself." he continued his reasoning, when the lass wandered off and Gale came into view. standing still in the snowy field like an awkward fawn without its parent with the scowl and foppish hair there to protect him.
Leon was all ready to charge at him when the lad was already down on the ground. So instead he began to pile snow around the hunter to make the GaleSnowman.

"Fine, spoilsport." Horace had decided that a third snowball might actually be considered an act of terrorism, so he slowly set it down. Even if Mikael was yelling at him and he wanted to hurl a snowball, he wouldn't. It was a little surprising to see Rodney getting along with Mikael, somehow. Pacifism magnets or something, probably. He shrugged it off and looked up just in time to see Lawr wave at him from the depth of Melvin's coat.

The corners of his mouth tightened and he pointedly looked away. Luckily, that was when he caught sight of Micah and, if ever there was a suitable candidate for snowballs, it was him. Horace wished for a moment he could say that to Micah, putting an unsubtle emphasis on 'balls'. Just to see how he would react, o course. Taking careful aim, he plunked a snowball at Micah and stayed upright only long enough to see it hit before he flopped down. It was time to make a snow angel!

In the tumult of emotions and other bad decisions, Horace had forgotten entirely about putting his gloves back on.

Their hands stilled and she looked up to him thoughtfully, but even as he refused, she would make sure he would stay warm! Whether her gloves or helping him warm up. "We can go down hill, couple of times? And then go inside, and I can make hot chocolate and some cookies or something?" She blushed..."If...If you want."

But he grabbed the board and she trumped through the snow after him, stomping through it to make a path she could easily walk again.

"I have never gone boogie boarding! Or...well...surfing? So I wouldn't know. If...If we go to Hawaii, will you teach me?" She asked, "To surf?"

She followed after him and then pointed over to the hill that was the largest. "This one?"

Finn only barely had time to duck down, his eye widening when he realized what Jack was going to do. Of course, ducking had done absolutely nothing, and he ended up pulverized by a massive ball of snow, the remnants of which stuck in his hair and slid down behind the collar of his jacket, leaving an icy cold, wet trail in it's wake.

"Mother ********!" He groused,while straightening up and dancing around to get the snow out from under his jacket, the snow in his hair melting and sending cold rivulets of water down his face now as well.

"And here I was going to share a drink with you." He reached into the front of his jacket and pulled out a flask. "But now? ******** no."

"Just stunned a little," he said, ignoring Caper's worried murmuring as he rubbed at the back of his head. "If I'd been on a sled instead of... the actual sled, I'm sure I would have enjoyed the ride more. And, I promise you, you didn't crush anything." He chuckled. "Are you o—"

He reached for her cheek, retracting his hand when his quiet concern was cut short by a voice from above. Was this the person who'd made the hole? She certainly seemed invested in their capture with her observations and her inquiries.

"Porter," he replied, pushing himself onto his elbows and squinting up at her. At least he'd remembered to give the right name this time.

The snow was... really really ******** cold. Horace dutifully made his snow angel, decided they were rather overrated, and stuck his hands under his shirt for some much needed warm. They were so cold it felt like his fingers bones were aching. The cold was good, though, distracting. He tried to recapture his childlike wonder at so much snow. And it was in that position, unable to defend himself, that he was met with a double fistful of snow to his face. Horace let out a whine.

"M-micah," he chattered (or, rather, his teeth did). "-to what d-do I owe this pleasure?" The snow that was melting on his hair sent droplets of ice cold water straight to his scalp.

"Do you wanna make a snow angel?"