Elide
Elide is walking by when a holler catches her attention. Her eyes lift across the vacant snows and paths, to quickly find out where everyone had suddenly gone. As per usual, she's not wearing anything too warm, and is unperturbed by some of the surprised glances this earns her. She makes her way through the stalls, hearing Deimos' booming voice quite clearly.
There may have once been a version of herself that would have stopped by the stalls to admire the fine food offered among them, especially to ask the local hunters of how their expeditions have been going. But since she has no intention of or need for eating, she won't waste their time.
There's also the fact that Deimos apears to be spearheading this little event, much to her surprise. She didn't take him for the type to host a sledding party, gruff instructor that she knows him to be. Elide certainly isn't, so she hangs back on the fringes between open snow and gathered crowd, to watch and observe.
It is to her great amusement that she's arrived just in time to watch the general, the Resurrected Sword go sailing down the hill like an oversized child. A chirp of laughter leaves her lungs, something not so easily provoked from stoic, statuesque Elide. It's hard not to catch a little of the high spirits she's surrounded by, though, and there's a smile on her face as she watches a tall, gangly man go sliding down after Deimos with similar jubilation.
Struck up by the impulse of the moment and the fun, Elide bends down to pull a bit of snow into her hands. Once it's refined into a promising snowball, she launches it straight at Deimos. It splatters against his head. She turns to whistle nonchalantly and fold her hands behind her back.
There may have once been a version of herself that would have stopped by the stalls to admire the fine food offered among them, especially to ask the local hunters of how their expeditions have been going. But since she has no intention of or need for eating, she won't waste their time.
There's also the fact that Deimos apears to be spearheading this little event, much to her surprise. She didn't take him for the type to host a sledding party, gruff instructor that she knows him to be. Elide certainly isn't, so she hangs back on the fringes between open snow and gathered crowd, to watch and observe.
It is to her great amusement that she's arrived just in time to watch the general, the Resurrected Sword go sailing down the hill like an oversized child. A chirp of laughter leaves her lungs, something not so easily provoked from stoic, statuesque Elide. It's hard not to catch a little of the high spirits she's surrounded by, though, and there's a smile on her face as she watches a tall, gangly man go sliding down after Deimos with similar jubilation.
Struck up by the impulse of the moment and the fun, Elide bends down to pull a bit of snow into her hands. Once it's refined into a promising snowball, she launches it straight at Deimos. It splatters against his head. She turns to whistle nonchalantly and fold her hands behind her back.
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire
for something beyond the daily life
for something beyond the daily life
