death is the mother of beauty. and what is beauty? terror.
She levels a fondly exasperated look his way for his gumption, and spins the axe handle idly around in a full circle to reestablish her grip on it. Already he is compacting a new snowball, and she is preparing to utilize her axe this time well before his teasing voice springs forth.
“Cheeky man,” and it’s unclear which emotion is stronger in the words; pride, amusement, or exasperation. But she severs the next snowball clean in half with the axe blade when he throws it, and her smirk is positively devilish. She’s sure his wonderful arm will take her by surprise eventually, but for now she allows herself to preen a little. “Am I allowed a little revenge, or is this just for you to try and pelt me with one of those eventually?”
“Cheeky man,” and it’s unclear which emotion is stronger in the words; pride, amusement, or exasperation. But she severs the next snowball clean in half with the axe blade when he throws it, and her smirk is positively devilish. She’s sure his wonderful arm will take her by surprise eventually, but for now she allows herself to preen a little. “Am I allowed a little revenge, or is this just for you to try and pelt me with one of those eventually?”
