Damien
"I never see you at the club!"
Okay? I never see you at the creek
Okay? I never see you at the creek
The treeline thinned near Peekaboo Rise, where the snow came up past Damien’s calves and every breath smoked like a forge. His axe was slung over his shoulder, another morning of cutting gone quiet but for the creak of trees in the wind. He wasn’t headed anywhere in particular—just following the ridge for kindling and calm—until color broke the white.
Bunting. Lights.
He squinted.
At first glance it looked like some fool had decided to decorate the wild, streamers snapping bright against the pale. Then he caught the sign stabbed into the snow—START—and the laughter echoing faintly up the slope.
“…what in the world..?” he muttered.
But curiosity was a stubborn thing, and the world didn’t give many moments of levity. So he made his way over. By the time he reached the lineup, boots crusted with frost and breath misting heavy, he could make out familiar faces among the gathered: Deimos’s steady presence, Thalassa’s sharp poise, Maea’s pale hair, Zavien from Stormbreak, and others he recognized from Halo or his travels. The whole scene looked halfway between festival and fever dream.
A pile of sleds waited off to the side—some ribboned, some gleaming, one that looked like a punishment disguised as fun. Damien eyed them with scrutiny. The tassels were too fancy, the striped one too proud of itself, and the splintered plank… well, that had a certain honesty to it. But practicality won out.
He stepped forward and nudged one of the plain, solid-looking sleds with his boot. It didn’t creak, didn’t wobble. Simple frame, sturdy runners, a bit of frost chewing at the edges. It’d do.
“Not the strangest thing I’ve done lately,” he murmured, setting his axe down beside it. His mouth tugged faintly, the ghost of a smile lost quick to the cold.
Then he straightened, glancing toward the others, and waited for whatever madness counted as the signal to begin.
Damien chooses a plain sled!
Regional Score bonus: +13 in all shrine visits, drops, PQ+s, KQs, etc.
Bunting. Lights.
He squinted.
At first glance it looked like some fool had decided to decorate the wild, streamers snapping bright against the pale. Then he caught the sign stabbed into the snow—START—and the laughter echoing faintly up the slope.
“…what in the world..?” he muttered.
But curiosity was a stubborn thing, and the world didn’t give many moments of levity. So he made his way over. By the time he reached the lineup, boots crusted with frost and breath misting heavy, he could make out familiar faces among the gathered: Deimos’s steady presence, Thalassa’s sharp poise, Maea’s pale hair, Zavien from Stormbreak, and others he recognized from Halo or his travels. The whole scene looked halfway between festival and fever dream.
A pile of sleds waited off to the side—some ribboned, some gleaming, one that looked like a punishment disguised as fun. Damien eyed them with scrutiny. The tassels were too fancy, the striped one too proud of itself, and the splintered plank… well, that had a certain honesty to it. But practicality won out.
He stepped forward and nudged one of the plain, solid-looking sleds with his boot. It didn’t creak, didn’t wobble. Simple frame, sturdy runners, a bit of frost chewing at the edges. It’d do.
“Not the strangest thing I’ve done lately,” he murmured, setting his axe down beside it. His mouth tugged faintly, the ghost of a smile lost quick to the cold.
Then he straightened, glancing toward the others, and waited for whatever madness counted as the signal to begin.
Damien chooses a plain sled!
Regional Score bonus: +13 in all shrine visits, drops, PQ+s, KQs, etc.
