❄ first snow

[snowstorms]

[Despite waking up in a weird room, Jack isn't one to spend a lot of time indoors. He explores the outside of the castle instead, one hand on the journal, the other wrapped firmly around his staff. He is easy enough to see: a pale, lanky boy sliding along banisters, drawing frost ferns on the windowpanes, and even surfing down the roof on a ramp of ice.]

Pretty interesting read, I gotta say. [A cold wind ruffles the pages of the journal as he goes.] And magical too, if the transcription means anything.

Hey, magic book! Can you answer a couple questions? Like, ah, which way is home? I think I got turned around somewhere, even though that... doesn't usually happen.

Another thing. Didn't we already have Easter? [The cheer in his voice starts to fade.] Whoever wrote down the date in here is... more than a month off.

That's... weird.

[ooc: Feel free to catch him flying around like a lunatic or over the journal, just specify which!]

Comments

[snowstorms]

[Jack makes a face. Okay, so that didn't work. Maybe his 'let's play!' magic can work on animals? He's never actually tried.

He sprinkles an enchanted snowflake on Nymeria's nose, experimentally.]

C'mon, pup, you're not that old.

[wolfchild]

[ Arya falls on her butt when Nymeria charges past her, looking like a (very, very, very large) puppy on Ritalin. She crouches a short distance away, tail wagging, before she races back to Arya. They both end up rolling on the snow, Nymeria wanting to play-fight and Arya trying to shove her off.

It ends with a half-amazed, half-annoyed Arya sitting in the snow while Nymeria lies in her lap, gnawing playfully on Arya's arm. The direwolf at least takes care never to break skin or throw her entire weight at the much smaller child. When Arya tries to pull away, Nymeria makes a sound of complaint and paws at the air. ]

[snowstorms]

[Jack laughs as Nymeria goes into play-overdrive. While she's looking for something to gnaw on, Jack casually flies over, grabs the little ice bone, and waves it in the air.]

Hey! [He whistles to get her attention, then tosses it a respectful distance away.

Hopefully that'll let Arya breathe.]

[wolfchild]

[ Nymeria looks up at the whistle. Kicking up snow, she abandons Arya to run after the bone. Arya throws a snowball after her. ]

Stupid wolf! I've got slobber all over... [ She rubs her arm on the snow. ]

[snowstorms]

[Jack's laughter is innocent in a way-- not mocking, and it comes easy. At least someone's having fun.

He offers the girl a hand up.]

[wolfchild]

[ She takes it and lets go as soon as she's on her feet. Nymeria returns with the bone. The wolf leaves it in her hands. ]

Thank you, Nymeria.

[snowstorms]

[He's not entirely surprised that she let go so quick-- he's /cold/, after all.]

She looks like she's enjoying herself.

[wolfchild]

It's queer. She's not usually like this.

[ If Nymeria is to be this excitable, she cannot go inside. Cat will worry and Henry will be scared. Arya sighs. ]

[snowstorms]

She'll calm down. Why don't you go play with her until she gets it all out?

[He smiles at her like he totally wasn't at fault.]

[wolfchild]

Because I'm not a child. [ Sharper than usual, but she's sick of it. ]

[snowstorms]

[Jack is unfazed.]

Did I say you were?

[He leans forward.]

I'll let you in on a secret: even adults need to have fun once in a while. You don't just magically lose your sense of humor when you turn eighteen. The only thing that changes, as far as I can tell... is that you have more to worry about.

That's it.

[wolfchild]

What does being eighteen have to do with anything?

[snowstorms]

It's the age people are considered grown-up, at least from what I've seen.

[He shrugs and backs off, staff balanced in his hand as he paces.]

I don't think it's that simple, though.

[wolfchild]

No, it isn't. My brother was a man-grown at six-and-ten. Girls are women as soon as they bleed.

[snowstorms]

[... not even touching that last part with a twenty foot pole. He had a sister, but every time that came up he was like BLAH BLAH BLAH I CAN'T HEAR YOU because that's what boys do.]

Everyone's circumstances are different. [He smiles gently.] I don't think you're too old for anything unless you admit it. Besides, you're pretty good at snowball-throwing.

[wolfchild]

I've had practice. This would be a summer snow to us. True winter would have left walls of snow as tall as Winterfell's.

[snowstorms]

Winterfell? Sounds like my kind of place.

[wolfchild]

It was right in the middle of the North. Bran the Builder raised it over hot springs and the pipes go right into the walls so it is always warm even in the harshest winter. In the godswood the snow doesn't reach the ground; the hot pools melt it all in the air.

[snowstorms]

Wow... I can barely imagine what that must be like. You've been there?

[wolfchild]

I lived there. Winterfell was my home.