Open The Frost Fair of 1765

[Zara Raposa]

Zara offered a light curtsy and a pleased bob of the head at Ruffano's acknowledgement before she looked up at what the red panda presented. She gave a coy chuckle and a smile to the minister.

"Well, why not?"

She glanced sidelong to the sweet picture of the panda getting down to Quickwhistle's level, gave an approving hum and then planted a kiss upon Callisto's lips. He was warm, inviting, strong. If she didn't have her head on straight, a lady might get swept up easily.

The vixen let out a soft sigh. "I am Madame Raposa," she introduced herself at last, "of the House of Respite."

There bloomed a shrewd gleam in her eye as she looked back to Callisto.

"That'll be twenty-five gilders."​

@Callisto Bluemoon @Ruffano Quickwhistle @Pomodu lu Modokunomulo

 

[Nevali]

Nevali gamely flopped her watermelon slice, cursing her short little weasel arms. She could see the leech just fine, but to get the watermelon close to its maw would involve flopping over or twisting herself into a circle and then flopping over, and she was embarrassing herself enough as it was. All part of the show, she told herself. From the expressions of most of the crowd, they had been, and still were, eating out of her paws on the whole concept of the fae beast.

She locked eyes with Tizzi Poof, whose gamey, blank expression conveyed no information whatsoever.

"How's it lookin'?" she gently asked, glancing up at Matisse. "Like wotcher see?" She gave her rump a little wiggle, and winced - bad idea. It was like she'd emptied out the entire pin box back at the office and sat on the pile. Though perhaps the mysteries of her rump did deserve to be up on the cork-board map with the rest of the paranormal happenings of the town, after this...

Tizzi, still clad in smock and bonnet, had its view obstructed and did not know what was touching it, nor who was doing the touching. It could smell watermelon, but then again, the entire front of its smock was drenched in the juices, as was its face. Everything smelled like melon. It wasn't really even hungry anymore, but the Deal was that upon doing the vanishing trick, it would get a slice. Tizzi Poof was owed that last slice!

It kicked and growled as the metal prodded and pried at its body, curling its legs up to its tummy, forepaws grasping hindpaws, morphing into a teardrop shape. Its teeth dug in a little deeper. Drool seeped out the side of its mouth. Its little tail whipped back and forth, marking the milliseconds.

"I can see its eyes," said somebeast in the crowd. "Now it's holdin' still. I seen that madness afore... many moons ago, aye, when a shark caught in our nettin'. It's a bloodseeker for certain."

Tizzi's little ears perked up with pride, hidden beneath its frilly bonnet.

"T'z'p'f!"

 

[Jill (The Beast)]

Mordecai watched Jill closely to see if his words had landed -- but her face was inscrutable. It was almost as if she were wearing a mask. The old squirrel sighed... perhaps he'd gone overboard with his lectures again. Only the other day, he'd nearly put a poor dibbun to sleep with a long discourse on the immorality of stealing from the larder. He shook his head with a smile, and reached out with one arm to give the girl a hug. "I knew I'd have someone I could call on!" he said warmly. "To the faire!"

- - -

Only a few minutes later, the pair had reached the outskirts of the event that night. The crowds proved to be a bit too dense for the abbot's liking, and so he moved towards the bonfires instead. Though his own gifts were perhaps overshadowed by the generosity of the ministries, they were of a different caliber. Almost all of the gifts were suited towards dibbuns: small handmade wooden carts, cornhusk dolls with flour sack clothes, ball and cup games. Each came with a small card with a handwritten blessing, and a slice of dense fruitcake, crusted with coarse chunks of sugar and almonds.

"Come, Jill... let me have the bag. You should give some out. Care to dress as Santapaws?" he asked playfully, rummaging through the sack. He produced a bright red hat with a little white pom pom on top, and beamed at it proudly. "You'd look brilliant in this!"

Jill froze up a bit at this, and she smiled, albeit a bit nervously. "If you insist, Father. But if you ask me, you'd be more fitting as the old Saint himself."

She leaned down, allowing Mordecai to plop the hat onto her head before jostling the bag off her shoulders and handing it off to him. Jill grabbed the first present, and looked around for any kits nearby.

 

[Willow "Longshanks"]

She smiles up at him. "Ah, quite alrighd, I fink. Fank you."

Seeing her fear fade so visibly within his presence, he can't help but grin back at her while basking in the warmth of her smile. With another bob of his head, he keeps his voice low and offers a: "Good—very good to hear, miss."

Adelina glances over at the tall lynx and back up at mystery beast, blinking a few times and leaning into the crook of his arm. "Laska, Miss Laska. And yes, I would be delie'ted to join you for drinks. Mister...?"

His heart flutters as she leans in(!) while his grip is there to support her and, feeling quite like that flutter has tickled its way upward as he attempts to speak, he clears his throat with a gentle cough and hopes it's not too obvious that he's feeling a little flustered. It's not everyday that a lovely vixen is thrust into one's arms!

"I'd be delighted myself if you could call me Willow, miss Laska." He bows his head and rolls one hand away from her shoulder in a flourish. "I'm afraid I've lost my surname—"

"—Nonzenze." Freya barks as she snaps her attention back to the he-wolf and vixen, arching a brow while crossing broad arms across an even broader chest. "Longshankz iz perfektly good name."

He grimaces, deflating at the thought of another battle on recently tread ground. "...I suppose—ah, but that all really is besides the point! Come, let us grab you some of this intriguing fizzy-drink! Freya here—"

"—Oh, yez, little Lazka, you ken call me Freya." The Large Lynx levies a smile, one surprisingly well mannered against her usually scowl. Perhaps it is the proximity to a taste of her homeland, which she gestures the pair towards once again with an increasing vigor. "Now kome, ~little Lazka and leggy Longshankz~, tell me vhat you think of drink of my homeland!"

With that, the Lynx turns bobtail and heads towards the stand with a spring in her step, unable to keep the cheerful smile from overtaking her features.

Offering the little miss Laska a chuckle as he watches the cat spring off, Willow starts to stand fully. Up and up, and up he goes, towering over her—and the rest of the crowd—nearly another beast's height before finally coming to a stop. He could knock a missertross gull straight out of the air if he wanted to! Touch the tops of the stalls if he deemed it necessary!

But the gentlebeast is just that, offering out his paw to the lady before him with a smile that tries not to be too wolfish.

"Shall we?"

----

Dodging members of the crowd, spectators of their little crash, and even the stray snowball or three, Willow gracefully clears the path before the pair, his paw light and warm in hers. As they make their way to the Northlands stand, he can't help but be a picture of excitement, now leading another at the whims of his own—much the way Freya was not more than a few moments before.

Their destination touts all manner of strange and interesting foodstuffs but the most popular, by far, is the fermented pine needle and crushed berry concoction. Despite the multiple beast long wait at the stand, Freya turns, offering out a pair of decorative wooden mugs filled to the brim with the bubbling seltzer. The otherwise transparent liquid is dyed a rich red, smelling sweet and light to anybeast with a keen enough nose.

"I know guy." Her smile turns downright mischievous, an ominous thing to any beast who might have seen her elsewhere—on the BlackShip for example. "Inside konnektion~!"

As the trio take up their mugs and prepare to drink, Willow pauses to hold it in a toast.

"To new experiences~!"

Smiling broadly down at Miss Laska, he winks and tips his drink up. Just in time to be hit in the bottom with a snowball—

 

[Adelina Laska]

Following the quick exchange with interest and then trying not be dazzled, or dizzied, by the full realization of Willow's high, Adelina smiles indulgently and hooks her arm around his to take his paw.

"Shall we?"

"Yes, lets!"

And I can let him worry about keeping up with that Freya in this crowd.

----

Adelina keeps a slightly tighter grip on his paw then he on hers, relying on him to lead her through the press of beasts in exactly the way he hadn't needed to when Freya had been pulling him. Although when they arrive and she starts to delightedly take in the booth's offerings she is only a little breathless.

"I know guy." Her smile turns downright mischievous, an ominous thing to any beast who might have seen her elsewhere—on the BlackShip for example. "Inside konnektion~!"

Nodding thanks Adelina examines the drink curiously, smiling and blinking in surprise when the bubbles tickle her nose.

"To new experiences~!"

Still not sure what to make of this strange, and apparently chemically active, drink Adelina grins at the choice of toast, razing her mug enthusiastically.

"New experiences~!"

She tips the brew back for a deep drink and then, already stifling a giggle at his wink, has to fight to avert a full on spit-take when he jolts under the impact of the snowball. The combination with the bubbles now tickling the inside of her nose leaves her off balance and eyes watering but laughing with delight as she manages to swallow her first gulp.

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

As she considered getting up again, Kinza’s attention was caught by a marten waving at her whilst in the company of her brother. There was a fox with them, too, also waving, and they all looked to be getting on well. That was enough of a curiosity for her.

Pushing up from the ice she wobbled upright, nearly losing her balance again until she managed to get the skates to stay relatively still with toes pointed inward. She hadn’t quite got the idea of that being part of the skill and put it down to luck and determination.

Kinza, with arms flailing like a tube man, succeeded in reaching the group, only able to stop her thankfully light momentum by relying on the solidness of her brother to bump into.

“Hi!” She said nothing further, keenly interested in whatever was being discussed.

@Lorcan Rainclaw @Daniil Ryalor @Caden S. Freemont​

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Woodlander Coalition Forces (WCF) [ 17 HP ]	Vulpine Supremacists [ 19 HP ]	Chaos Goblins [ 3 HP ]	Poor Bystanders [ 2 HP ]
Finnian [ 3 / 3 HP ] (-1, +3 REZ)	7x NPC [ 14 / 24 HP ] (-4)	Korya [ 3 / 3 HP ]	Dr. Amatis [ 0 / 3 HP ] (-2)
Calara [ 3 / 3 HP ]		Griblo [ 0 / 3 HP ] (-1)	Willow Longshanks [ 2 / 3 HP ]
Evva [ 3 / 3 HP ]
NPC/Rabbit [ 1 / 3 HP ]
(2x) NPC/Stoat Twins [ 4 / 6 HP ] (-1)
(2x) NPC/Ferret Siblings [ 3 / 6 HP ] (-3)
Swifttail [3 / 3 HP ]

As anyone at the ill fated Opera House could have tell you, the Vulpinists were a vicious group -- mean to the core, and not to be trifled with. As the others began to hearken to Finny's call, they began to redouble their efforts in earnest. Hunkering down in their meager fort, they began to target the weakest links of the coalition forces -- lobbing snowballs at the poor bunny hunkered down. But from behind the barrel, she was safe.

The next target were the ferret siblings -- and each ate a snowball under the chin. Spying Griblo's absolute cannon of an arm, the leader of the Vulpinists called out (in a vaguely Irish accent), "Leggo, lass! Take him down!" From behind the fort, a vixen of stunning beauty (named Leggo, of course) lept up onto the wall, and launched a precision shot across the field, pegging Griblo right in the face.

Their final victim was poor Dr. Amatis. The sight of a grumpy academic struggling to find his glasses was too much for the bullies to resist, and a hail of snowballs pelted him down into the snow.

Now Finn would have felt quite bad for poor Dr. Amatis, if a massive boulder of snow hadn't sailed clear through the darkened sky, crashing down between his shoulders. The sheer weight of the snow knocked him off his feet, and straight into a slushy pile. Poor Finn let out a shriek as the icy cold water seeped through his shirt.

As the stunned kit lay in a shallow pool of water, he could hear the cries of the woodlanders, furiously launching their volleys at the fort. But that was it for him... there would be no victory. He could feel the cold, slushy waters seeping into his fur. Bully would fall, the vulpinists would have their day again, and no one would avenge the innocent fur shed by...

...hellgates! Not like this!

With a surge of energy, Finn raised up from the dead, and ripped off his wet shirt. After all, he was a Tough Little Biscuit(TM). Seizing a red scarf that had the ground, he threw it around his neck, and fashioned himself a snowball with a noble and fierce glint in his eye. "For the Opera House! For Bully! FOR OSCAR! CHAARGEEE!!" he roared.



( Courtesy of the wonderful @Bucketfox )

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano had come to the Frost Faire without a plan, and that suited him just fine. The evening had been a frigid but pleasant tumble of voices and color and generosity, one thing flowing easily into the next, and he had allowed himself to be carried along without resistance.

So when Pomodu knelt, lowering her enormous frame until they were nearly eye to eye, it did not give him pause so much as it caught his attention fully.

The motion drew a soft chuckle from him as her giggle rang out, tinny and bright, her paws clasped behind her back like a smitten schoolgirl. The mistletoe swayed above them, fixed now to the lamppost, its meaning unmistakable.

For a heartbeat, he simply looked at her, then his smile softened, unguarded and genuine.

He glanced aside briefly, a flicker of awareness for the gathered company, and he offered the crowd a comical grin.

"Truly," he said lightly, "who am I to deny mistletoe on such an occasion? ’Tis the season, after all."

His attention returned to Pomodu at once, voice lowering, soft and kind.

"It generally signifies a kiss," he said gently. "Friendly. Entirely optional."

He rose just enough to meet her halfway, the excess of scarf and winter coat making the maneuver faintly awkward, his muzzle brushing through an absurd amount of plush red fur. He smiled despite himself, breath warm in the cold air.

Then he leaned in.

Fluff pressed in, the world narrowing to lantern light and the faint sway of mistletoe overhead as Ruffano Quickwhistle kissed Pomodu lu Modokunomulo....

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Snow hit Griblo square in the face.

Again.

It exploded across his muzzle in a wet, slushy burst, forcing icy grit up his nose and straight into his mouth. He reeled with a choked snarl, boots skidding as he staggered half a step, hacking and sputtering while meltwater immediately began its miserable descent down his collar.

"—Gahk—! Gates!"

This was the second time today. The first had ruined his cigar and turned a perfectly good moment into a personal affront. And now this second one ruined what little composure he had left.

Griblo wiped furiously at his face with the back of his paw, spitting slush onto the snow as his ears flattened tight against his skull. Cold seeped in fast now, cruel and intimate, soaking through layers and clinging to his chest until his fur lay plastered and heavy.

His jaw clenched.

O-hohoho... this wasn’t play anymore. It never was. That line had been crossed already long before now.

This was just insult piling onto injury.

He bent down hard, scooping snow with more force than finesse, packing it between numbed fingers that refused to cooperate. He hurled it with a snarl.

The snowball sailed past its intended target and burst uselessly against nothing at all.

He grabbed more snow, angrier now, faster, and threw again.

This one broke apart mid-air, disintegrating into harmless powder.

Griblo glared at the empty space where it should have landed, fists curling with rage.

"Aw bloody hell," he snapped. "T'is ain't fair, it ain't!"

Another shiver wracked him despite himself, the cold finally getting its claws in. His coat was soaked. His chest burned. His teeth threatened to chatter if he let them.

Instead, his focus snapped sideways to Frost Fang.

She was still furiously hurling snow with terrifying efficiency. Snowballs left her paws the instant they were formed, her body a blur of motion and intent, each throw born of sound and instinct rather than sight. She was chaos given shape, a living storm rolling toward the heart of the fight without hesitation or mercy.

Griblo’s grin returned, feral and sharp.

"Oi," he muttered, stepping into place beside her and resting a frozen paw on her shoulder, soaking wet and vibrating with fury.

"Alright... Listen up!" he barked over the din, guiding her shoulder gently like a joystick. "Hear that shoutin’? Big clump, just left o’ the fort! That’s yer mark!"

Cold, soaked, furious, and absolutely refusing to go down quietly, Griblo Jankweed dug in beside his living artillery and kept calling targets.

Winter would have to try harder than this to defeat him!

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Snow crunched under Swifttail's boots as he slid sideways between two startled bystanders, breath steaming in short, bright bursts as the rhythm of the fight took hold. The Frost Faire had tipped fully into chaos now. Shouts overlapped. Snowballs burst midair. Somewhere nearby, a kit whooped with triumph, only to yelp a heartbeat later as return fire answered.

It was loud. Messy. Alive. And it felt… right.

He bent without slowing, scooping snow from the riverbank and packing it tight between his mittens, fingers knowing exactly how much pressure to give without thought. The ball came together dense and clean. He rose into the throw in one smooth motion, reading the flow of bodies ahead of him, picking a moving shape near the fort.

The snowball flew...

...It should have hit.

Instead, a sudden collision in the fray sent the target stumbling sideways, and the shot sailed past to burst harmlessly against the packed snow wall behind them.

Swifttail let out a short, breathy laugh, more pleased than bothered.

"Nearly got 'im," he murmured, already bending again.

Another scoop. Another pack. This one heavier. He shifted his footing, adjusted his angle as a fresh volley streaked overhead, and in that brief pause he took in more of the battlefield.

A ferret, soaked through and furious, barking directions beside a small, terrifyingly efficient blur of dark fur. He thought about pinning him with the snowball in his paw, but then thought better of it. He didn't want to be pelted!

His attention instead snapped back to the fort.

The second snowball left his paw on a clean arc and struck home with a solid thump against a Vulpinist’s shoulder, knocking them off balance and into the snow with a startled shout.

"Gotcha," he hollered, warmth blooming in his chest as he fist pounded the air.

Snow whistled past his ear in response. He ducked, laughing again as he moved, boots slipping easily into a new position. Somewhere ahead, Finnian’s voice cut through the noise once more, fierce and rallying, and Swifttail found himself angling toward it.

Time to make his way to his commander for proper orders.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue, too, was attending the Frost Faire at his own leisure. It was nice. He felt as if his worries were far behind him for once. That calmness didn't last for long however, as Silvertongue soon heard the commotion of what seemed like a fight. He heard familar voices- Finny? And Swift?! He rushed through the crowd and burst into the clearing, only to let out a sigh of relief as he saw it was a harmless snowball fight. He spotted Swifttail hunkered down and heading for Finnian’s position, and he decided to follow suite.

Silvertongue noticed that his companions, and their allies, seemed to be taking plenty of hits. He knew then and there that they needed moral support. So, he grabbed his lute and started to pluck its strings while singing a tune, dancing his way across the battlefield as he did:

“I'm lonesome since I crossed the hill
And o'er the moor and valley
Such grievous thoughts my heart to fill
Since parting with my Swiftie.”

“I seek no more the fine or gay
Each does but remind me
How Swift the hours did pass away
With the Todd I left behind me.”

This of course, just brought the attention of the Vulpinists, who started to lob a barrage of snowballs in Silvertongue’s direction. He managed to dodge them all with surprising grace as he continued singing.

“O ne'er shall i forget the night
The stars was bright above me
And gently lent their silvery light
When he first vowed to love me.”

“But now i'm bound to-.” Silvertongue’s song was interrupted as a snowball hit him square in the muzzle, sending him flying backwards and landing on his back in a snow pile, his lute beside him. Dazed, he muttered out the last lyrics of the song.

“Kind heaven, then, pray guide me
And send me safely back again
To the Todd I left behind me.”

 

[Korya]

"Left of the fort," Korya grunted. "Got it." There was a fort?

She was getting frustrated. Not a single snowball had hit her back. What was the point of this snowball fight, if no one was going to try? Maybe she was too fast. Or was Griblo guarding her? He was a bigger target, after all...

She packed her snowballs tight and threw them in the direction she thought maybe he was suggesting, but heard only a light piffling as they struck ground. Whiff and a whiff! She panted, feeling herself slow down. The snow around her was turning to slush from her body heat.

"Hold on, new tactic." She began pulling at her shirt, kicking her moccasins off, and yanking her pants and half-skirt down. Somewhere in the distance was a few cheers, a few shocked remarks, and some laughter.

"Hush it," she said, when Griblo began to question her. "I'm going camouflage!"

To Korya, this tactic was known as "get naked and get closer", and she couldn't quite grasp why more beasts didn't do it. The whole concept of fur blending in with surroundings was lost in translation. She tossed her clothing aside and prowled headfirst into a snowbank, still hopefully pointing in the direction of this so-called fort. The jeers and shouts of the Vulpinists were blending in with the rest of the noises - who was who? Everyone was a target still, as far as she was concerned...

Her ears perked up. Singing. That was discernible.

Time stood still as Korya leapt from the snow, a brown blur of fur that leapt, twirled, and hurled mid-spin. The snowball stopped the singing dead on. She raised her arms and cheered in the momentary silence. Something brushed by her tail, and she whirled about, now facing the fox's fort once again. With renewed confidence that she was able to hit things, she packed each paw with not snowballs, but massive chunks of snowbank. She hefted them both and charged forward with a roar, smashing the snow into the faces of two beasts who were too startled by a naked kitten running at them with blocks of snow to think about dodging or retreating.

And just like that, Frost Fang was inside the fort.

And her desires were granted: Each of the seven foxes began to pelt her mercilessly with snowballs - one or two even getting a kick in, dashing snow into her face and smacking her bared rump with booted foot.

"Ow! Hey, that's against snow rules! Keep pelting! Bring it on! Put one in my mouth!"

She yawned wide up at them, and was silenced with delicious frozen snow, which she bit down on.

"They don't call me Frost Fang for nothin'!"

What happened next, nobeast could quite be sure. There was cackling, and screaming, and snow exploding upwards over the fort's walls, and then two of the foxes were abandoning ship, scuttling out to the safety of everybeast else throwing snowballs at them.

 

[Marble]

Miothiyle was happy in the presence of her partner, exchanging gifts and sharing the joy together, that said the Vixen was very excited to see what else there was, ears twitching at the sounds, whiskers flicking at the smells. Something did catch her attention though as she glanced over at the group that was engaged in an activity she was unfamiliar with. It seemed that they were balling up handfuls of snow and tossing them at each other.
"What are they doing?" The question directed at no one as she would wander over to observe whatever it was they were doing. Not only were they throwing these balls of snow but it seemed that some of them had even built a makeshift fort of which to hunker down in and lob the snow balls at the others which seemed a little unfair.

A mischievous grin spread across the vixens face as she saw where the foe was and several angles within to attack the entrenched foe. As a feline dashed in on what seemed like snow based suicide Marble would see the opening.
"Minerva my dear, would you be so kind as to get us some of that mulled wine. I'm probably going to need it when I am done causing chaos" Kissing her lovers paw and moving off to the fight. She scooped up some snow and packed it up as she saw the others do, tossing it at a wall to get a feel for it. A little denser, and less power than she expected.

She was Miothiyle of Thermodon, huntress of Artemis, how hard could throwing balls of snow be.
"Leave the bard be" And she would dash forward into the fight tossing a ball of snow up at the remaining foxes hunkered within the fort as she watched them throw down a volley at the singing fox. For the first throw it was pretty good only going slightly short, but the huntress knew better than to wait for return fire, scoping up some more snow and getting ready another ball to toss up from another position giggling like a mad woman as return fire exploded around her

 

[Amnesty Greysoul]

Proud and scrappy. The sort of beast who might grow up to do great things-- for good or ill-- if she managed to grow up at all. Amnesty slipped her paw into her own pocket as soon as the young gecko removed hers (and her other paw into the pocket on the other side) so that it could almost be believed that she was only doing it to keep them warm. She was about to offer a friendly nod to the squirrel who had approached them when sudden recognition caused her eyes to widen and her tail to flick of its own accord.

But before she managed to say anything, Cricket had already done her level best to wrench the focus of the conversation onto something less incriminating. Amnesty was happy enough to help change the subject. Particularly once she looked down at the prosthetic long enough to recognize just how impressive a feat of engineering it actually was. Her eyes widened again, this time with undisguised appreciation.

"Forgive me, Minister, but I think I have to agree with the little one. The workmanship-- it is quite neat. I've never seen its like."

@Orina Emberkin @Cricket


~*~

Chaos and icy madness abounded, aided and abetted by Calara. But chaos is a fickle ally, and as the otter rose up to launch another volley of snowballs at the fort she became one of the mayhem's next victims. She had forgotten to watch her flank. And she had forgotten that this was Bully Harbor, and that the instant you thought you knew what was going on was the instant you paid for your hubris. Two snowballs crashed against the big woodlander in short succession, one from Korya's direction and the other from the fort itself, both of them hitting hard enough that she reeled back, tripping over the tail of somebeast who was in just the wrong place. And 'gates, it was cold. The powder seeped through even her waterproof fur and threatened to set her shivering.

But she wasn't done yet. Rolling back to her footpaws with her whiskers wide and the light of battle in her eyes, the otter started packing what was meant to be a particularly large missile to be lobbed with vicious intent at any group of young vulpinists foolish enough to remain bunched together. It would be the perfect thing for lobbing over the wall of the fort, come to think of it. Or it would have been, if Something hadn't happened inside. Suddenly, getting anywhere near the fort and the snowy explosion inside seemed like a terrible idea. But those two foxes who had launched themselves from the fort in something approximating a desperate charge--

Calara stood. She twisted back, one massive snowball held in both paws as she gathered her strength and flung it. Her aim was true. The projectile flew through the air and fragmented into powdery shrapnel that coated both of the sprinting foxes (and dusting Evva besides). But the otter only had a moment to look on her handiwork with satisfaction before another snowball came hurtling towards her. She saw it just before it impacted, but that only meant an instant of terrible anticipation. It crashed into her forehead with all the fury of Lady Winter herself, driving the big otter to her knees.

"Arrgh! They got me! Carry on, comrades! By the fur!" And with that, the otter fell, giggling, into the snow.

Evva had fared only little better. The rush of the fort had resulted in about six near misses and one solid hit that left her with icy meltings of snow underneath her collar. And now it was time to charge again. Ah, well, there was nothing left to lose. The cat roared out her own battle cry beside Finny.

"For the honor of the University! CHARGE!"

 

[Callisto Bluemoon]

The todd’s emphatic apologies were well received by Callisto. He was never immune to flattery, and in such circumstances saw little reason to think it insincere. The Frost Fair had been so long imagined that appreciation for its execution was unexpectedly warming. Perhaps the citizens of Bully Harbour were not, in their entirety, all he had been told.

The wolverine responded with a polite half-bow of his own, muzzle crinkled in a smile. “No real harm done, master Quickwhistle, and thank you for such kind words. I’m delighted to see the Fair has gone ahead without a hitch, and the joy is brought by beasts such as your good selves. As for the cold, well…such is the nature of the beast, as it were. To a Northlander such as myself it doesn’t feel too bad, but I recommend the spiced cider if you need something to warm yourself.”

Matters returned swiftly to the matter of mistletoe, and whilst Ruffano was engaged with his own kiss Callisto leaned down to attend to his own. A low rumble built in the large wolverine’s chest, quiet but distinct in meaning; Zara was an intoxicating vixen, indeed. They parted, Callisto with a contented sigh, and his glazed eyes took a moment to sharpen as he processed her final words.

Oh.

Oh, she was good.

Rapid blinking brought him back to the present, stamping down on his surprise to splutter a laugh, instead. Under other circumstances he would have found it prudent to make a light threat in response to such cheek towards a Minister. Tonight he sensed opportunity. “You sell yourself short, madam,” he replied, expression shrewd. “I’ll do you one better: how about you pop into the Commerce offices in the week and we’ll have a chat? I might well have an offer to make your establishment. How does that suit you?” He inclined his head to the others. “I’d so hate to turn our new friend any more red with the nature of such conversations, after all.”


@Zara Raposa @Ruffano Quickwhistle @Pomodu lu Modokunomulo


-----


"Like wotcher see?" The sable’s lips quirked in a dry smile as his hooked blade continued to prod and irritate the tenacious little shark-toothed limpet. At least Nevali still possessed a good sense of humour; he rather doubted he would have, under similar circumstances, managed more than an expletive. He was not about to divulge any appreciation for her surprising curves beneath those ridiculous robes in public.

The crowd was murmuring and his efforts were having little effect. Whatever his thoughts on kindness or aid were paled in the face of the fact that he was now making a public attempt to be useful: he had to do something. The sable lowered his blade and rubbed his muzzle, pouting in thought before, at last an alternative clicked. In returning the blade to his belt he began opening another pouch. There wasn’t much, but he often kept a small pouch of styptic powder on his person: he doubted it would taste pleasant nor feel such up one’s snout.

“Oh shut up,” he grunted to the latest observer, affecting more the cadence and mannerism of a beast more common than himself as he launched into a fresh pack of lies. “If it wanted blood why’d it go for a beast’s be’ind? No, mates, this’un wants meat. Lucky this charming weasel gave me protection against such creatures last time we met.”

It was risky to get within closer range of the…thing…but Matisse’s pride urged him closer. Extending a paw, he looked to Nevali with a quick, “’Scuse,” before he began sprinkling the powder upon Tizzi’s nose and the space where jaws met rump.


@Nevali

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

The subtle signs of affection between Caden and Daniil did not catch in the oblivious todd’s awareness. This was commonplace for him, lacking as he did several social graces, but so too was his attention snagged by both the reassurances and explanations he was being given. They might have just been trying to soothe his bruised ego, but he appreciated it nevertheless and felt inclined to take them at their word.

Lorcan grinned at Caden, though his ears twitched in evident bemusement at the concept of a second death. He supposed his own mother had faked one – perhaps it was something akin to that. “Oh! Yes – yes I remember, ma’s mentioned you a few times and me older half-siblin’s did, too. Hah! They’ll be well jealous to know I got to meet yer proper. Ma also told us a few stories about yours when we were growin’ up. ‘Tis good me meet you!”

Strong paws seized those of the jack and shook energetically before offering Daniil the same treatment. “Aye, we sail with Alwyn whilst he’s trainin’ Marines and such. Bit stuffy for my tastes, the whole Stoatorian Guard, but ‘e means well. Hide’s a lovely craft, by all accounts. Still decidin’ how I feel about engines, but she got us through in one piece and ‘tis nice to sail on a craft so big. Never really had the chance before. Twenty five years, though? That’s longer’n I’m old!” He grimaced playfully. “Please tell me you was only a liddle’un at the time!”

Kinza bumped into his side, and for all of his unsteadiness he was solid enough that she barely rocked him. He offered a steadying arm. “Oh ‘ere she is! Heard we was havin’ fun, did you? Daniil, Caden, this is Kinza – Kinza, our cousin Daniil and Caden – the Caden Ai and Val grew up with. Fancy that!”


@Caden S. Freemont @Daniil Ryalor @Kinza Rainclaw

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu's shyness wasn't enough to keep her from melting at the kiss, nor her ringed tail from shooting straight up, puffed thicker than a whackball bat. A few wolf whistles came up from the crowd, and one smarmy little git started singing an original composition that merited the title "I Saw Ruffy Kissing Sandy Paws". Reminded of their audience, Pomodu blushed so hard it nearly showed through the white spots of her fur and ears, and she pulled back from the kiss a bit bashfully. "Danuku Ruffano," she giggled, meeting his eyes briefly before it got to be too much for her and she hid her face in her paws, evidently stifling a delighted giggle.

~~~

Daniil smiled at the mention of his age when last on the Hide, and he let his chuckle serve as confirmation. The whole story of how they'd come to be on the Hide, and how they'd left it, was best saved for another occasion. He instead turned his attention to his other cousin, newly arrived on the scene. He offered a short quarter-bow this time, about as much as he dared risk without falling over on the ice, and straightened up to smile at the pair. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, cousin," he confirmed. "Your mother speaks highly of you both, and with much pride toward your service on the Hide." He glanced toward Caden, remarking, "We should have them over for dinner sometime, I think, so we can catch up, share stories. I would love to hear about your adventures aboard the Hide." He smiled in recollection. "My mother would tell me wild stories about the Hide and its adventures when I was a kit. She never sailed herself, but she was a lover of tales and told them with such energy and detail that one could believe she had been there. I'm afraid that is a talent I never acquired, so I'll quite disappoint by comparison," he chuckled, relaxed enough for him to affectionately brush a bit of ice shaving off Caden's shoulder.

 

[Zara Raposa]

Zara grinned after making the minister laugh, masking any apprehension she might have at being so cheeky. Something in her eyes suggested she might not have been joking about her price, but there was no need to dance around it with Callisto’s generous reply. Or a potentially deadly one. She was going to make sure plenty of people knew exactly where she was when she took him up on this offer. It was hard to battle the buzz of excitement within her at what there might be to gain.

“You have yourself a prospective appointment, sir,” she said playfully, enjoying the misinformation that might spread, and then looked the bashful Pomodu up and down. “Well, isn’t she a sweetheart?”
@Callisto Bluemoon @Ruffano Quickwhistle @Pomodu lu Modokunomulo​

 

[Nevali]

Last time we met...? Nevali's muzzle scrunched up only briefly. Was the sable inserting himself into her timeline? Should she allow it, play along and claim the powder was magical as well? It could very well be, but she could not ascertain it from her current position. Or... was he referring to another charming weasel?

There wasn't really any time to fully decide and devote herself to the newest alteration in her performance. What little course she'd planned for had already gone off into the dark woods. The plan now was to settle, find a clearing with enough breathing room to stabilize and recuperate before calling the adventure a success.

"...p'f... p'f..."

Tizzi was having a difficult time staying attached. It had shut its eyes, its nose flaring as the powder tickled its way down and inside its sinuses. Breathing through its mouth, clogged as it was with rump-fur, was beginning to be difficult. It's limbs flailed, grabbing onto Nevali's leg again eventually, but there was no stopping the sneezes.

"P'f! P'f!"

Nevali whimpered, still hoisting the watermelon slice around behind her. The pain was beginning to get intolerable. The embarrassment, too.

Tizzi was not a beast who gave up easily. With every tiny sneeze, it was becoming harder to breathe, harder to hold on, its little body wracking with spasms as its brain was tickled senseless. With a mewling whine, it released its bite, slumping to the ground and writhing with massive, snot-packed p'f-p'f-p'fs.

Nevali whirled about, lowering her robes with a weary, "Woohoo!" She thrust the watermelon slice into the tiny goblin's arms, gave it a pat on the back, and grabbed a talisman from the table, thrusting it out towards Tizzi's face. Please, open your eyes, see it, do what we talked about...

Tizzi, paws covered in booties still, hugged the watermelon slice tight, was still sneezing, every puff of air expelled sending it reeling this way and that, slipping and sliding on the ice. The crowd murmured.

"See," said Nevali, "sometimes ya need a little extra help, but now I've got the talisman, notice it's not attackin' me again?"

"Mate, that thing ain't gonna attack anything in that state - yeaargh getitoffame!"

Tizzi had sneezed itself onto the speaker's footpaw, but remained unaware of the towering adults. It clutched its melon slice as it finally began to recover, its face a globbed mess of saliva, booger, watermelon, and snow powder. Dazed, the little thing wandered off through the crowd. Luckily, the talismans thrust in its direction appeared to keep it from attacking - and those without cautiously (or quite nervously) stepped aside to let it pass by.

"You know," said one thoughtful vixen, "there's a kit's book called Tizzi Poof and the Case of the Missing Blanket? I read it to my nephew last week."

"Ya never know which names th' fae choose ter use when they manifest in our realm," said Nevali, shaking her talismans. She glanced over at Matisse, lowering her head in a moment of reverence. "Thank ya fer yer demonstration that there's more ways than one ter keep a beast safe from th' forces o' wicked an' wiley evils!" She sidled closer and in more of a whisper she added, "That powder, uh, is it safe ter have near one's... y'know... under-robe areas?"

 

[Willow "Longshanks"]

With a clatter, his half-finished mug of coveted fizzy-drink fell to the ground and scattered in a spray of liquid—tragically beautiful for the moment that it arched. But Willow had other things on his mind—

"—'Gates!" He cried, both paws converging on his now chilled rear.

Not to be deterred, the ball of snow sloughed off of his rump as Willow waggled it; tail brushing forward and back in a wide, rather notable arc of ruddy red fluff. With a quick look back to make sure everything was in its proper place (which, thankfully, it was), already his mind was on the others around him and retaliation. The glint in his eyes was sharp enough to cut oneself on.

"Stay behind me, my lady!" He bellowed fancifully, a quick two-step turn bringing his body between the Ms. Laska and the rowdy Vulpinists.

Then he was scanning the playing field for the division of forces. Many beasts were joining in now, from a Singing Fox to a Marbled One—and was that a—'GATES BE GOOD, A [Redacted by the Ministry of Niceties] WILDCAT? He averted his eyes for long enough to dip low to the ground and pack not one, but two balls of slushy snow. Letting the glimmer in his eye solidify into a marksman's sheen, when he glanced back up the Wildcat had disappeared into the fort and a cascade of curses, fluffy powder, and beasts flowed from it. An otter was seizing the opportunity with a large snowball aimed at two retreating foxes, and he joined in on the moment of surprise. With a curl and wind of his arm, he let loose a snowball.

It arched then landed with a satisfying *~splat~* in one of the foxes' chests, sending him to his knees. Too busy celebrating the triumph with a little pump of his fist, Willow failed to notice as the second fox stumbled forward, gathering up a handful of slush to retaliate. This time the ball was aimed for areas unmentionable in kind company—

*~SMACK~*

"—G'ACK!" Caught unawares, he groaned and cringed—barely up, but up nonetheless. "You... little... augh, scamp!"

---

One moment, Freya was there; the next she was gone, taking off at a lope towards the Fort.

The Spryte Cranberry was not to be dishonored; this moment of deliberately volatile injustice must be settled.

Rage, boiling hot, fueled the Lynx's glare as she scoured the battlefield for something to destroy. She had already balled up and thrown some powder towards the retreating Vulpinists who had downed Calara—but it hadn't maintained form for long enough to actually hit either of them. Now she would take her revenge out on the rest of them, right after she tore down the walls that contained them. Dipping, dodging, ducking, and diving past the snowballs thrown at her, Freya came upon the walls to the fort like Pawzilla.

"FOR THE BLACKSHIP!" She roared, claws bared, and began to tear down the wall.