prompt
Prompt 11 (Snowball Mini-Game Tie In): What would winter be without snowball fights? Maybe you were just out walking, maybe you were looking for trouble, maybe it was all your idea--but a snowball fight has started, and you're in the middle of it. Are you an innocent bystander who now has to flee? Do you decide to join in and participate? Or, were you the one lying in wait, preparing to attack someone? Maybe it was random, maybe the target was selected--either way, snow is flying and you need to react, fast.
Crunch. Crunch. Crrrunch-
Calaverite took slow, bounding steps as he moved through the snow, screwing the heels of his boots down with excessive force with each footfall as he tamped down the icy crystals, eliciting a pleasant sound from beneath his shoes that was almost like something breaking-
Almost, but not quite. There wasn't that same shattering and ricocheting effect, even if the snow did plume up as he jumped. It was laid out in a pristine sheet here, stretching out before him until it was interrupted by a scattering of trees several yards away. Behind him was the road and a sidewalk, besmirched with interspersed footfalls and grey sludge kicked up by passing cars, but at least this empty lot was untouched. Or it had been, before Cala had found it.
He pounced, slinging up a flurry of snowflakes as he landed with a crunch. The cold bit at his exposed skin, making an already-pale boy look particularly blue in the dim lighting. He probably shouldn't be out long.
But what did Cala care about that? It was just the cold. It wasn't like it could do anything to him. And the snow wasn't always around, so he had to be sure to crunch it down now. He wouldn't get to later. Although, since his general had been so kind to bring him to the city from Negaspace, he should be working, and his general could do something to him if he wasn't working...
Except Calaverite didn't want to go draining. It was boring, and he could do that any day.
It was better to do things he couldn't do every day.
He twirled, and the tangled ends of his long hair dragged through the snow, leaving wispy trails behind him, before he leaped to his next point, kicking off hard and landing several feet away, where he skidded to a stop on his knees and began to pack the snow into little orbs with his hands. Building things. Cala did like to build things. And this was such a malleable medium.
Sami-Fire
