Theea
and let the words fall out
"I settle into the work, packing a few more snowballs with quick, neat motions. The excitement makes me wiggle in place like a wind-up toy; I have to clamp my lips together to keep from giggling. Focus, Theea. Professional snow warfare. I track him the way he’d track prints in fresh powder—measured steps, shoulders loose, eyes taking in every angle. Deimos dings him with a small shot and Damien calls back something casual enough to turn my grin soft for a heartbeat. It’s a good look on him, that easy play.
He veers toward a nearby fort, shouting out to a man with a mountain-of-a-name — Iskra, I commit to memory — and a cocoa mug, and he starts to duck behind a fort—
I pop up smooth as a fox from a drift and let fly, a perfect, palm-packed sphere arcing for the back of his head. Hitting it's mark or not, I drop right back down behind my wall, biting back a grin as I try to feign innocence.
honestly, i want to see you be brave







