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neutral_omens2005-12-23 10:26 pm
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Date: December 20, 1999
Setting: The grounds
Status: Public
Summary: War starts a snowball fight.
There’s all sorts of speculation on why wars break out, and though not many say it, most of it is due to boredom.
War had been bored. She had been bored in 1812 and re-fought on the sea a conflict that had already been settled on land. She had been bored in 1914, and had succeeded in getting millions of men to sit in miles and miles of pestilential ditches and shoot at each other for no good reason. There was nothing like a good bloody battle for light entertainment.
And she was bored now, and had had no way of relieving the ennui of the tentative, resentful peace in the Manor. An all-out skirmish would not be permitted, at least here, so War had designed the next best thing to ease the passage of a tedious day.
She was propped up on the edge of a tightly-packed fort on an incline on the lawn. She smiled a smile almost as cold and biting as the air around her, and her breath rose in thin tendrils of steam as she packed snow into a hard icy ball. She examined it, tossing it to herself a few times: it was heavy, sculpted into almost a perfect sphere, and about as aerodynamic as snow could be. Her smile sharpened. This baby was going to sting.
War wrapped her mink-trimmed coat tighter around her, kneeled to peek over the top of the snow-fort’s walls, and lay in wait for prey.
Setting: The grounds
Status: Public
Summary: War starts a snowball fight.
There’s all sorts of speculation on why wars break out, and though not many say it, most of it is due to boredom.
War had been bored. She had been bored in 1812 and re-fought on the sea a conflict that had already been settled on land. She had been bored in 1914, and had succeeded in getting millions of men to sit in miles and miles of pestilential ditches and shoot at each other for no good reason. There was nothing like a good bloody battle for light entertainment.
And she was bored now, and had had no way of relieving the ennui of the tentative, resentful peace in the Manor. An all-out skirmish would not be permitted, at least here, so War had designed the next best thing to ease the passage of a tedious day.
She was propped up on the edge of a tightly-packed fort on an incline on the lawn. She smiled a smile almost as cold and biting as the air around her, and her breath rose in thin tendrils of steam as she packed snow into a hard icy ball. She examined it, tossing it to herself a few times: it was heavy, sculpted into almost a perfect sphere, and about as aerodynamic as snow could be. Her smile sharpened. This baby was going to sting.
War wrapped her mink-trimmed coat tighter around her, kneeled to peek over the top of the snow-fort’s walls, and lay in wait for prey.
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Angels always made wonderful targets.
She jerked her head in Uriel's direction and loosed off a barrage of snowballs at him, crossing every few seconds to fend off Famine.
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This was most certainly getting rather fun, he decided. Gathering some more snow and forming it into perfectly round balls, he eyed War challengingly. Well, as challengingly as he could, anyway -- he could hardly keep himself from laughing aloud as he saw the giant snow ball getting bigger and nearer to War all the time.
He glanced towards Famine and noticed that his ally had moved out of the way of the giant ball. Excellent.
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He raised his eyebrows when he saw the scene in the yard, however. The man face-down in the snow seemed somewhat... familiar, as did the redhead (who was, it seemed, about to be hit by a very large snowball indeed), and the thin man with black hair. The only one he felt no recognition for was the man in the robe, although something about him made the marquis feel a bit uneasy.
Well, far be it for de Carabas to attack the disadvantaged, and besides, in coming around the side of the Manor he had found himself behind the robed figure. He grinned, knelt down, formed up a snowball, and let fly at the back of the man's head.
"Is this a private battle, or may anyone join?" he called out, rather pleased with the belatedness of his question.
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Yelping a bit in surprise, he turned around just in time to hear the newcomer's deliberately belated question. Brushing snow off his neck, he glared at the man, then let his snowballs fly, half of his mind occupied with scooping snow from the ground, forming it into balls, and hovering those balls at an appropriate distance to be taken into use as soon as he ran out of ammunition.
"Anybody's free to join," he shouted out, "but in this battle, there's no giving up before the end!"
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the large snowball finally hit War's back, half of it immediately melting into icy cold water. Crying out in triumph, he then jumped aside to avoid the newcomer's attack.
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"Hey, Odin!" Destruction yelled cheerily as he sped past. "Watch this!"
"YAARRR!" The huge redhead cried as he threw himself bodily at the Angel, hooking his arms over the wings and smushing the snowballs into them.
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She spat some of it back out and dumped more on his face, taking particular glee in stuffing more into his coat. And she was still sopping wet.
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Wednesday paused for a minute. King of the Hill. A child's game. He was slightly disturbed at his thoughts. It wasn't right for him to be enjoying this as much as he was, it was... ungodly. It made him think...
Until a tightly packed snowball hit him squarely in the back of the head, causing his glass eye to soar onto a nearby snow bank. High pitched angelic laughter echoed in his ears.
Needless to say it knocked him out of his reverie, and again his blood boiled. He looked to the Marquis. "Come, friend. To the Hill!"
On top of a snow drift, a grey eye stared unblinking into a white English Vestri Strönd! ... Eða hæð... hvað sem, hver sem er, hver sá..."*
*"To the Western Shore... Or hill... whatever..."
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At last, he decided that Destruction wouldn't let go of his wings. Therefore, he simply folded his wings, hoping to make the man's grasp disappear. As soon as he hit the ground, he rolled to the side, then glanced around only to see his ally's helpless position and the latest team of the snowball fight heading for the hill.
Now, that wouldn't do. The hill would be theirs! He waved his hand, and suddenly the remains of War's snow fortress were coming down at the two men charging up.
Unfortunately, this took up his concentration, leaving him open for an attack from behind.
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Then, however, something startling caught his eye. To be exact, a darkhaired form in a white and green robe and cloak. Uriel.
For a moment Michael debated with himself about whether he should go outside and try to put a stop to the fight. On one hand, it appeared like Uriel was definitely enjoying himself. On the other hand, though, it was obvious that Uriel wasn't working on his "normal mode" at the moment, and when he did come back to normal, he probably wouldn't be too happy to notice what idiocy he had indulged in.
Finally Michael came to a decision. Sighing, he exited his room to stop his fellow archangel before Uriel did something he might regret later. Providing what he'd already done wasn't enough.
"Uriel!" he called out as soon as he stepped out of the Manor. "Uriel, stop that! You're not in your right mind!"
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Giggling triumphantly, he then continued his running towards War and Famine.
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Oh, heck. If that was the way Uriel wanted to play. He knew what he was getting at, pissing off the head of Heaven's army. And he would pay for it.
A quick glance around revealed two men with their feet frozen at one spot on the side of the nearby hill. That was obviously Uriel's doing. Waving his hand, Michael thus melted the ice. Anything that worked against Uriel's intentions was fine with him. "What are the sides?" he yelled, starting to form snowballs between his hands. "And whatever they are, I'm not on the same one with him!" he then added, pointing at Uriel.
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She stood and watched the snowball fight for a while, before moving closer to it. As she did so, she gathered up snow from the ground and began to form it into a ball. When she was approximately a meter from the fight, she glanced between the skirmishers and her snowball and swiftly threw it at War before bending down to grab more snow.
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"Sorry, but this just got serious," she said, pulling herself off Famine's chest and hurling a large snowball back at Pepper.
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"Hey, Pep! Can I be on your team?"
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Soon he found himself right next to the wall - in fact, he could hear Michael's voice not too far away. Well, he couldn't access his old powers without reclaiming his Realm, but minor explosions were certainly still allowed. Still, best to do it slowly, just to be on the safe side.
The castle wall shuddered.
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A part of him -- a very large part -- wanted to scream, "Not fair!" In fact, it took a rather considerable effort to keep himself from doing so. Instead, he reached out his angel powers to support the fort's walls. The shuddering stopped for a while.
However, his power was more inclined to destroy than to save -- well, at least more so than most angels'. Most likely he couldn't keep the walls up for long.