about ... 12? months ago

[inanhour]

It's not so cold that Sebastian can't go hang out with his friends and need accompaniment unless he tipsily falls into a snow bank somewhere. (A gentleman does not get drunk, merely... indisposed.)

But it is cold enough for there to be snow on the ground, and after stabling his horse, Sebastian pats a pile of the stuff softly. It crunches, very nicely, under his hand.

"Huh." He kneels to start molding it.

Comments

[livinginmyglass]

It's several minutes later when Viola makes her way down from the house, crunching clumsily through the snow, trying to hold her skirts up with one hand and hold a shawl on with the other.

"Where hast been? We did expect thee an hour past--"

[inanhour]

"Is not this snow most amenable?" Sebastian asks, ignoring her questions with a hopeful grin. "I have been but here," he says, gesturing to his great art.

It's ... a somewhat rounded lump!

[livinginmyglass]

Viola makes one last effort at hoisting up her skirts, straightens her shawl (which is to silently say no, it is not particularly amenable, it is wet and cold and she did not dress for traipsing around in it). She stares at Sebastian's masterpiece.

"... what is it."

[inanhour]

"A snowman," he says, somewhat indignant. "Or his feet, at least," he adds, looking to it.

"Here," he unbuckles his cape as he walks over to her. "Thou shouldst stay and give me the aid of thy critical eye. And hands," Sebastian says, thoughtful, "when he is high enough not to risk falling."

[livinginmyglass]

Viola resists as long as she can-- but eventually sighs (and can't entirely hide her smile as she does so). "Oh, very well."

[inanhour]

Sebastian has not stopped grinning, but he bounces very slightly on his feet, as he gives her the cloak and fastens it with great ceremony.

"Now thou shallst not die for mine amusement," he informs her, very serious, patting her shoulder.

He returns to the snowman, and stares at it. "Feet," he says, and begins to gather snow to make into shoes.

[livinginmyglass]

Viola gives him an exasperated look, but it's undercut somewhat by the speed with which she draws the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Still, her tone is dry as she says, "I thank thee."

"...feet," she echoes. She squats down and starts scooping up some snow as well, to pat onto the base that Sebastian already began. "Dare I demand wherefore thou didst decide to build a snowman?"

[inanhour]

"There was snow," Sebastian says, having all but sat on the courtyard stone to form the large lumps of snow he's brought into shoes. "And a goodly snow, as thou canst easily tell," he adds. "And perchance I missed making snowmen and just realized it this night."

[livinginmyglass]

"It is a child's sport," Viola says, but her voice is fond, not derisive. "Surely we have not been long enough parted from our childhood to yet miss it."

[inanhour]

Sebastian is focusing on the details now, flattening the toe out.

"... When did we last make one?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Oh, I know not, it--" But she trails off, really trying to remember. "Why, five years and more, surely. I was nothing near a woman, nor thou a man."

[inanhour]

Sebastian nods, wiping his hands of snow before moving to the next foot. "Then 'tis time enough to miss it."

When he was that young, he was very eager to seem older. Fatherless, and despite all else, the de facto man of the house -- but his sister knows it. He will not bring it up.

"How tall should he be?" he asks, instead, standing to work on the other side of the snowman. So far, he comes to about hip-height on Sebastian.

[livinginmyglass]

"Sure he cannot stand to be much taller, else he will collapse," Viola says, straightening up to survey the progress more closely. She pats down a bit of snow that's about to break loose.

"So high, perhaps?" She holds up a hand, not too much taller than where the snowman already is.

[inanhour]

Sebastian groans. "I did think he could come at least to chest-high," he says. Viola is right, obviously.

A thought hits him, and he laughs: "He must have over-large feet, then, and make his peace."

[livinginmyglass]

She laughs too. "Well, he need not know it. We will not tell him. Let him think all men are shaped as he."

[inanhour]

"Art clever," he says, approving, "though I think thou knowst it."

He's maybe being a little over-ambitious with the height he is building on his side, but that is no reason for the snow under his foot to give way.

There's a quiet pamf!

[livinginmyglass]

"O!" She reaches out instinctively for him, grabbing hold of the nearest thing she can-- his sleeve-- which might help him steady himself. ...or it might just make them both overbalance.

[inanhour]

Sebastian blinks, once they've fallen in the snow.

Across to his sister, a fervent whisper: "Viola! Dost live?"

He might be starting to giggle.

[livinginmyglass]

"No," she replies. She puffs out a breath, trying to blow an escaped curl out of her face. "No, I have perished here. Thou hast slain me, thy snowman and thee."

[inanhour]

"I did not slay thee," Sebastian replies, offended. "'Twas the snowman what conspired 'gainst us both."

[livinginmyglass]

"Ay, perchance, but thou didst welcome this foul traitor into our midst." She reaches over to give the snowman a thwack, which only succeeds in dislodging some snow, which falls directly onto her head. She yelps at the sudden cold and hastily tries to brush it down her hair before it can slide down her neck.

[inanhour]

Sebastian cannot concede the argument.

Even if she's maybe, technically, a little bit right.

So he just attacks the snowman to avenge her death!

If it be at such an angle the snowman starts to slide in her direction, well. Um.

>.>

[livinginmyglass]

"Sebastian!" Viola yelps. But she can neither warn him nor wriggle out of the way quite fast enough.

"--when I catch cold, I shall blame thee," she mutters, trying to shake snow out of her sleeves. She scoops a particularly large chunk off of her shoulder, looks at it for a moment, and then does the only think she possibly can do.

She throws it at him.

[inanhour]

Sebastian slides with the snowman.

He sits upright, hurt: "But I am ever staunch in defending th--" the snow smacks him in the mouth.

His eyes narrow, and he starts packing snow.

[livinginmyglass]

Viola laughs when her snowball hits its target, but seeing Sebastian begin preparations of his own, she scrambles to her feet, flinging a few loosely-packed clumps of snow on her way up.

[inanhour]

Sebastian throws his first of two snowballs as she stands, aiming for her abdomen. He rolls to his feet, fresh snow in one hand, and grins.

"Look! Thy foe is slain."

While gesturing to the wrecked snowman, he offhandedly throws the second as well.

[livinginmyglass]

Both hit home, the second in the vicinity of her ear as she tries to duck away, which elicits another yelp.

"Ahhh, 'tis down my dress-- I am certain thou art my foe--"

[inanhour]

Sebastian drops the fresh snow, patting his gloves off on his legs.

"My cloak should do little to save thee from the cold of snow in thy dress," he admits, trying not to laugh.

(He's ... succeeding?)

"Thy vengeance can be had indoors?"

[livinginmyglass]

"It will not-- take it," she says, reaching up and fumbling for a moment with the clasp before working it open and offering it back to him. "Thou'rt soaked through, thou hast no less need than I."

She shivers and reaches up to brush more snow out of her hair. Her curls will always break free from any pins at the slightest provocation-- a snow battle is more than sufficient, and it's half fallen loose about her shoulders.

"Indoors," she agrees. "I must devise some truly cunning punishment. If the cold thou'rt sure to catch proves insufficient."

[inanhour]

"I shall be heartily well, and withstand all manner of colds," he promises, clasping an arm briefly around her before shaking out the cloak and re-attaching it.

It is pretty cold out here.

Once he manages that, he offers her an arm. "A brandy shall cure us, and a change of clothes."

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, art a physician?" Viola asks in mock-wonder as she takes his arm. "I have found the truth of it now-- when thou dost absent thyself without a word, 'tis not to carouse with thy friends, 'tis to tend thy patients in secret!"

[inanhour]

Sebastian laughs as they walk.

"I take care of their ills, in spirit -- in fact, I am like unto a priest!" He declares, hand gesturing dramatically.

[livinginmyglass]

She snorts. It's super ladylike.

"That life would suit thee not at all, brother," she says, giving his arm a playful squeeze. And then realizes that actually, it's much warmer pressed right up against him, so she stays there.

[inanhour]

"It should strain thy nerves somewhat less," he offers, smiling over at her.

"Thy day has been well?"

[livinginmyglass]

"So it would," she agrees at once.

When they reach the door she ducks gratefully inside, immediately shrugging off her now-sodden shawl. "'twas well enough-- we saw to making ready for the feasts to come, for Christmas and for twelfth night-- but thou dost not care for this, I will not bore thee. Where didst go?"

[inanhour]

"That trader who was to come visit Roderigo's father -- he came unexpected a day early, and Roderigo and I were tasked with his entertainment."

He removes his cloak. "I think not that I shall work with him, for he is over-generous with money -- though much I was pleased of it this evening. But I shall return tomorrow, as I was invited."

[livinginmyglass]

"Over generous... you think him imprudent?" Viola asks. "It may be he did but seek to impress thee with his largesse, not knowing thou wouldst take it amiss."

[inanhour]

Sebastian thinks about this for a moment, and grins.

"Thou shouldst surely be the business man, couldst thou only improve thy countenance. I shall keep thy words in mind, when we speak again tomorrow."

Maybe he shouldn't so quickly discard a potentially valuable contact, who speaks of routes extending into France.

"But this can surely only bore thee," he adds, before she can reply. He nudges her with an elbow. "What might I learn of the celebrations?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Amend my countenance?" she echoes, mock-indignant. Well... at least half mock. "And what wouldst improve in't, brother? For 'tis in every feature just as thine."

[inanhour]

Sebastian reaches out to gently poke at her cheek.

"Thou couldst smile now and then, and laugh even perchance at the occasional poor-told joke."

[livinginmyglass]

She swats at his hand with a scowl-- which she quickly transforms into a simpering smile. "Like so?"

[inanhour]

Sebastian flinches back.

"No," he exclaims. He flaps a hand at her face, careful not to come too close. "Thou lookst as though thy brains were left at home."

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, is this not how men would have us?" she says, attempting to flutter her eyelashes.

[inanhour]

"Wouldst have a man who thought so?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Why-- no, but..." She doesn't quite seem to know what to say. "I would not. But I think the most of men prefer a wife quiet and fair and naught else. Save thee, I am sure," she adds with a grin.

[inanhour]

"I am not so strange," he protests.

He shivers, sudden and violent. "I should change," he says, after a moment, "else I should marry no woman, be she clever as thee or otherwise."

[livinginmyglass]

"Go," she commands, releasing his arm and giving his shoulder a very demure, very lady-like smack. "And 'tis nearly time to sup."