❄ it's quiet and the snow's beautiful tonight → a winter open meme
‧ post with whatever character you want ‧ responders roll for weather + scenario and get to threading ‧ ??? ‧ profit
snowfall;
stage i; none, streets are already blanketed in white. stage ii; very light and intermittent. stage iii; light - moderate. lasts longer periods. stage iv; continuous, heavy snowfall. stage v; the hardest of cores - blizzards, snowstorms, you name it.
scenarios;
① fuck the police, this is the best time for a walk. hope you've got a nice thick coat on.
② stranded in the buttcrack of nowheresville? weren't you watching the time? now you've gone and missed that last bus out of there. or maybe you're lost, somehow. what do?
③ literally chilling, in this weather, is quite easy to do. sitting around relaxing in it is a wee more difficult, but sometimes much more enjoyable, especially if shelter can be found. the snow is beautiful to watch, after all.
④ the weather's not going to stop you. your snow fort's packed full of ammo and ready to go. those aren't snow angels over there; they mark where the poor souls you've downed have fallen. be careful with that snowman's head!!
⑤ you're about fifty miles from civilization but there's a roof over your head, so never mind the chilly draught, right? right. you mightn't be the only one lucky enough to stumble upon this little shelter, though. remember to share the blanket.
⑥ everyone stuck outside should be jelly. you've got a fireplace and hot cocoa and damn if it isn't awesome. a heater's not quite so romantic, but it'd do. there'd better be a backup generator in case the power trips.
[ It's winter, but it's not true winter. It had been summer only a moment ago, and now there's barely a leaf to be seen, and flakes of ice filter through branches that spider above them, barely providing a shelter. Gansey's v-neck sweater had been so warm that he'd been considering removing it. Now, his hands are in his pockets, there's a shiver building through his arm, and he's not entirely sure how any of this happened.
He had been lying down; now he's sitting up, looking around while the snow frosts the grove they'd been settled in. Cabeswater is never short of surprises. He turns to look at Blue, and finds himself distracted by the dusting of white decorating her hair. It settles on the tips of her spikes, and the temptation to brush them off is almost insurmountable. He keeps his hands pocketed. While they've never actually discussed it, brushing snow from her spikes is probably against the rules. ]
This is all very festive.
[ And chilly. Did he mention it was chilly? ]
That's what we get for being too warm. Do you want to go back?
[ Blue breathes out, experimentally testing the chill in the air and the cloud of her breath around her face. This definitely isn't shredded tank top weather. Thankfully, Blue shreds sweatshirts sometimes too. Sometimes they have lace and kittens on them. She doesn't shred the kittens, that would be rude.
Still, sweatshirt or no, she huddles into herself a little. When Gansey speaks, she looks over, blinking snow off her eyelashes. ] Festive...
Do you? [ A quick brush at her shirt-layers sends some powder flying into the air around her. ] If we wait, it could change.
[ Her way of subtly hinting that she'd like to stay. Not in Cabeswater's magical winter, but her, with Gansey. She's not really sure how to put those words in the right order. It would be hard, without her breaking some rules. ]
[ There’s a brief, somewhat frightening moment when Blue turns to him, and he’s paying so much attention to the way the ice is catching on her eyelashes that Gansey almost misses what she said.
Almost. She wants to stay.
Well, then.
He shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly, closer to her. It’s enough so that he can feel warmth radiating off her. The snow is certainly cold, but it’s not heavy enough to be unbearable. ]
I don’t. I was quite enjoying the company, actually.
You have some – just here.
[ Tentatively, he reaches up, and brushes the flakes off the very tip of one of her spikes. His smile is crooked, lopsided, uncertain. ]
[ If the careful way she allows herself to be aware of Gansey's warmth next to her isn't enough to cause her cheeks to go a little redder than she could blame the cold for making them, the way Gansey reaches up to brush at her hair and especially that somewhat uneven smile of his would. Holding very still, she watches him under somewhat fuzzy lashes.
Blue thinks to herself, because she has no control over the thought, that they are both being a little bit less conscious of the rules than perhaps they ought. Then again, Cabeswater has its own rules, doesn't it? The fact that it's so closely linked with Adam- she pushes that thought far away. Certainly outside the little bubble she's become encased in next to Gansey. ]
Thank you. [ She interlaces her fingers and pulls her knees up, leaving enough room for her arms to nest in the space between. It's for warmth, says she. ] It's beautiful.
[ Says she. ]
The forest, I mean. [ Was there some confusion there? She did use the right words, didn't she? ]
[ Gansey frees her hair of snowfall, and lets his hand drop to the ground. He leans back on it, and tries not to think about the fact that it's half behind her. It is not around her. It could not be conceived to be around her. He draws his knee up, and finds that his line of vision has been distracted by the way her hands have folded together. They look cold, he thinks. She looks cold.
She looks lovely.
Jesus, he needs to get a hold of himself. They shouldn't be doing this. He should not be taking this risk, because if he bends the rules once, he knows he'll do it again. He is always some level of desperate to bend the rules. ]
It does. [ Does it? He hasn't given the forest a second look since the snow landed in her hair. ]
Winters are beautiful here. It's probably the season I like least, but Henrietta, in the snow? That's beautiful indeed.
Your hands look cold, Jane.
[ That last part slips out, unbidden. Gansey curses himself. He has to take more care. ]
[ If Blue is aware of the fact that their posture is half a breath away from Gansey having an arm around her, she doesn't show any outward sign of it. If she's aware of how nice her brain would decide that idea is, she doesn't show any outward sign of that either. Instead, she huddles a bit more and tries to think about things other than how beautiful the... forest is. ]
I hope we have snow for Christmas. [ She says that, then the rest of what he's said starts sinking in, melting into her like the snow that's melting on top of her shoes. Not snow boots, but sensible as anything. ]
Well- [ She wrings her hands, one over the other, as if trying to warm them. ] It is cold right now.
[ What a lame response.
She forces herself to look over at him, which is difficult, because of how beautiful... the forest is. It's strictly scenery behind him that's so distracting. ] Are you?
[ She’s huddling. She’s huddling, and Gansey is very aware of how close she is to him. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. What if she hears it? Can she hear it? It’s pounding in his ears, so he’s not sure how she couldn’t. He’s sitting so still, as if he’s afraid she’ll flee if he moves. ]
I’m not dressed for winter.
[ By way of answer. Of course he’s cold. He’s definitely cold, and that’s why there’s a flush working its way up his neck. ]
You should let me –
Here.
[ Gently and methodically, he reaches to take her hands, and starts the process of warming them up in his. He rubs them, and is careful not to notice how soft her skin feels, or how warm his neck has become, or how close she is to him. The air has enough of a chill now that he can see his breath, and it keeps parting in a tiny cloud around her hair. So close.
His hands are shaking, and the cold has nothing to do with it. He’s stopped rubbing, and stopped himself from thinking about how he’s really just holding her hands now.
[ The natural answer to Gansey's question is this: Blue cannot hear his heartbeat because the sound of her own is so loud in her ears. She feels like it sometimes threatens to leap from her chest when he's around, the only cure for this being the adoption of the coolest attitude possible.
She opens her mouth to respond when something happens that makes all thoughts of constructing some kind of 'cool' response to his comment about not being dressed properly flee her mind in their entirety.
Not having had time to come up with any protest to him taking her hands, or perhaps not being all that invested in finding one, she goes very still for a second or two.
Then, very cautiously, she leans in a bit. Encouraging him to go on. ]
Mm- [ She nods, feeling a little tremor go through her. ] That's nice. [ Her voice sounds a bit weak to her ears, but she can't get upset about that either. This whole situation is a complete bust for Blue Sargent, feisty platypus. Blue Sargent the girl, however, has a different perspective.
It's one that's mostly concerned with how warm Gansey's hands seem, though she knows objectively that his hands have been in the same cold air as hers. It's a perspective that concerns itself with the closeness they currently share, the faint smell of mint in the air, and the vague sense that he's shaking. ]
[ Gansey tells himself that he's being methodical about this. That he's just rubbing her hands to warm them, and sitting close to her because it'll keep both of them warm, and that there's definitely no ulterior motive.
And he's certainly not thinking about how soft her skin feels, or about the way her eyelashes stroke across her cheekbone every time she blinks, or about how flakes of ice are settling in her hair again. He's not thinking about any of those things, he's just warming her up like any good friend would.
Except that none of that is true. Except that Gansey is a terribly honest person, and he's aware that right now he's even lying to himself.
But he doesn't drop her hands. ]
It is nice.
[ Careful. This isn't even close to the line anymore. It's all the way over it. ]
I wish we could do this more often. [ Christ. ] I know that we can't, but you should know that I'd like to. I think about it far more than I should.
[ Blue's hands, now far warmer than before, rest in Gansey's without moving. She's as still and quiet as the snowy landscape surrounding them. As meditative too, if her expression is to be believed. There is a line, somewhere. It's doubtful either of them can see it any longer though.
Counting on him to go on holding her hands, she draws back a little, then leans over to blow warm air over both her hands and his. It seems like a remarkably unselfconscious gesture, though there's nothing particularly conscious about it either. She clearly did it because she wanted to do it, and without thinking, because had she been thinking, well. She wouldn't have done it. Because it's not allowed.
The line is far, far away indeed. ]
Me too. [ She doesn't elaborate as to whether she means she thinks it's nice or she wishes they could do it more often or she feels the same way as him about wanting to do so, or even a confession that she thinks about it more than she ought as well. It's intentionally ambiguous. Or unintentionally and she thinks all the above happen to be true.
[ Jesus Christ. Gansey’s jaw relaxes and then tightens, his eyes never leaving her face. Automatically he shifts closer to her, so aware of every movement. Her warm breath on his skin makes him feel electric. God, why couldn’t they? Just this once, in the forest, where no one is looking. ]
Maybe we could – just because it’s cold…
[ He’s very careful about the way he puts his arm around her. It hooks gently around her shoulders, and his hand settles on the top of her arm and he pulls her in just a little, to rest against his chest. His other hand keeps hold of hers.
It’s a gesture that seems simple and easy, and on the outside Gansey looks as calm as ever. On the inside, his heart is racing and his skin is prickling and he can smell her hair and she’s close, so close, like she’d been that night under the stars when he held her beside the Pig. He knows that he is not allowed to do this. His breaths are shallow with the risk of it, and with the hope of everything he would love to be between them. A little shiver passes through him, and it has nothing to do with the cold. ]
If I could kiss you, I would do it now. [ It’s a thing he doesn’t mean to say, and his arm tightens around her just in case. ] If I could do that, I don’t think I’d be cold at all.
[ Blue feels her heart stutter in her chest again, waits a moment to be sure it's still beating, then lets herself rest against Gansey's chest. Her hand gets trapped between them, but she makes no move to disentangle herself. Her thoughts are an avalanche, which is fitting, isn't it?
She feels him shudder and steels herself against doing the same. Why should she, when she's so warm now? ]
I- I know. [ Now she's stammering, which very clearly has nothing to do with being cold. Fidgeting slightly, her hand finds a fistful of his coat and hangs onto it between their bodies, pressed closer together than she can remember ever happening. But that's not true, is it? She has a small catalog of such incidents, proof they're failing increasingly to forget things they're meant to forget. ]
I would too. [ She lets her forehead fall to his shoulder, lingering over the pale ache that realization causes. This is not allowed.
But there's no mistaking the fact that it's happening now. She feels a brief burst of anger, a silent curse in Fate's direction. She's not sure if it's because she's cursed or because her heart didn't listen when she told herself not to fall in love with this ridiculous, impossible boy. And now they're sitting in the snow, doing everything and nothing they're not supposed to do. ]
[ Gansey is aware of Blue curving into him. Of her head pressing against his shoulder and her hand fisting in his jacket, holding him tightly. Curving over her is the most natural thing in the world. He leans his head down, temple leaning against her crown, and his hands move around to settle on either side of her spine. His thumb moves, gently, stroking at her back. He’s barely even conscious of that part.
It doesn’t seem fair that they aren’t able to do this. That they can’t kiss, because she can’t kiss her ‘true love’, if that’s a thing that Gansey is. God, is he? He has never allowed himself to think much about that, frightened of the connotations if he works it through. And it’s well that he doesn’t, because even if none of that was true, they’d still be forbidden to do this because Gansey knows how much it would hurt Adam. They cannot be a couple. Gansey cannot be any part of the reason why Adam and Blue did not work out.
Those are the reasons they aren’t together, and they’re reasons that won’t go away. So why does this have to feel so good, and natural, and normal? Why does he feel as though he shouldn’t be anywhere but here? It used to be that only Henrietta felt like home to Gansey. Now, he has that same feeling when he’s with Blue. He belongs right here. She carries every inch of the warmth that comes with home. That must be why he can’t feel the snow anymore.
He turns his head, so that his nose nudges against the top of hers. ]
I know. I know I have to stop this. It’s just, I don’t want to. Not yet, not now.
There's a thrill running through Blue, from head to toe, and it gets set off by what Gansey has said. It isn't exactly the first time this has happened, either. While he's just as capable of saying ridiculous things that make her jaw drop and her head fill with defensive retorts, the side of him that may well be no less spontaneous, but hits upon these sorts of sentiments... she likes this side.
This side climbed from his car with a curse on his lips one evening and she felt compelled to follow. Fed her a mint leaf like it could have been a kiss. This side whispers at her over a telephone line late at night.
She huddles closer, blaming the fact that she's trembling on the cold. That's all.
It's just the cold. ]
We don't have to talk right now. [ That feels enormously dangerous, particularly considering the nature of her curse and the one, absolutely forbidden thing between them. Absolutely forbidden because she knows she's meant to fall in love this year and, if she'd admit it to herself, she knows she already has. Naturally, the fairy-tale connotations of 'true love,' or rather, True Love aren't totally lost on her. They've been the background music to her entire life.
Then again, Gansey sometimes seems like he was plucked from some sort of epic adventure story, dropped into a pair of boat shoes, and deposited into her life with singular abandon. ]
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bakerstreet2015-12-05 03:21 pm
blue sargent | the raven cycle | ota
3; also 7
He had been lying down; now he's sitting up, looking around while the snow frosts the grove they'd been settled in. Cabeswater is never short of surprises. He turns to look at Blue, and finds himself distracted by the dusting of white decorating her hair. It settles on the tips of her spikes, and the temptation to brush them off is almost insurmountable. He keeps his hands pocketed. While they've never actually discussed it, brushing snow from her spikes is probably against the rules. ]
This is all very festive.
[ And chilly. Did he mention it was chilly? ]
That's what we get for being too warm. Do you want to go back?
no subject
Still, sweatshirt or no, she huddles into herself a little. When Gansey speaks, she looks over, blinking snow off her eyelashes. ] Festive...
Do you? [ A quick brush at her shirt-layers sends some powder flying into the air around her. ] If we wait, it could change.
[ Her way of subtly hinting that she'd like to stay. Not in Cabeswater's magical winter, but her, with Gansey. She's not really sure how to put those words in the right order. It would be hard, without her breaking some rules. ]
no subject
Almost. She wants to stay.
Well, then.
He shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly, closer to her. It’s enough so that he can feel warmth radiating off her. The snow is certainly cold, but it’s not heavy enough to be unbearable. ]
I don’t. I was quite enjoying the company, actually.
You have some – just here.
[ Tentatively, he reaches up, and brushes the flakes off the very tip of one of her spikes. His smile is crooked, lopsided, uncertain. ]
no subject
Blue thinks to herself, because she has no control over the thought, that they are both being a little bit less conscious of the rules than perhaps they ought. Then again, Cabeswater has its own rules, doesn't it? The fact that it's so closely linked with Adam- she pushes that thought far away. Certainly outside the little bubble she's become encased in next to Gansey. ]
Thank you. [ She interlaces her fingers and pulls her knees up, leaving enough room for her arms to nest in the space between. It's for warmth, says she. ] It's beautiful.
[ Says she. ]
The forest, I mean. [ Was there some confusion there? She did use the right words, didn't she? ]
no subject
She looks lovely.
Jesus, he needs to get a hold of himself. They shouldn't be doing this. He should not be taking this risk, because if he bends the rules once, he knows he'll do it again. He is always some level of desperate to bend the rules. ]
It does. [ Does it? He hasn't given the forest a second look since the snow landed in her hair. ]
Winters are beautiful here. It's probably the season I like least, but Henrietta, in the snow? That's beautiful indeed.
Your hands look cold, Jane.
[ That last part slips out, unbidden. Gansey curses himself. He has to take more care. ]
no subject
I hope we have snow for Christmas. [ She says that, then the rest of what he's said starts sinking in, melting into her like the snow that's melting on top of her shoes. Not snow boots, but sensible as anything. ]
Well- [ She wrings her hands, one over the other, as if trying to warm them. ] It is cold right now.
[ What a lame response.
She forces herself to look over at him, which is difficult, because of how beautiful... the forest is. It's strictly scenery behind him that's so distracting. ] Are you?
[ Cold. Not beautiful.
She knows the answer to one of those. ]
no subject
I’m not dressed for winter.
[ By way of answer. Of course he’s cold. He’s definitely cold, and that’s why there’s a flush working its way up his neck. ]
You should let me –
Here.
[ Gently and methodically, he reaches to take her hands, and starts the process of warming them up in his. He rubs them, and is careful not to notice how soft her skin feels, or how warm his neck has become, or how close she is to him. The air has enough of a chill now that he can see his breath, and it keeps parting in a tiny cloud around her hair. So close.
His hands are shaking, and the cold has nothing to do with it. He’s stopped rubbing, and stopped himself from thinking about how he’s really just holding her hands now.
He swallows. ]
Is that better?
no subject
She opens her mouth to respond when something happens that makes all thoughts of constructing some kind of 'cool' response to his comment about not being dressed properly flee her mind in their entirety.
Not having had time to come up with any protest to him taking her hands, or perhaps not being all that invested in finding one, she goes very still for a second or two.
Then, very cautiously, she leans in a bit. Encouraging him to go on. ]
Mm- [ She nods, feeling a little tremor go through her. ] That's nice. [ Her voice sounds a bit weak to her ears, but she can't get upset about that either. This whole situation is a complete bust for Blue Sargent, feisty platypus. Blue Sargent the girl, however, has a different perspective.
It's one that's mostly concerned with how warm Gansey's hands seem, though she knows objectively that his hands have been in the same cold air as hers. It's a perspective that concerns itself with the closeness they currently share, the faint smell of mint in the air, and the vague sense that he's shaking. ]
Thank you.
no subject
And he's certainly not thinking about how soft her skin feels, or about the way her eyelashes stroke across her cheekbone every time she blinks, or about how flakes of ice are settling in her hair again. He's not thinking about any of those things, he's just warming her up like any good friend would.
Except that none of that is true. Except that Gansey is a terribly honest person, and he's aware that right now he's even lying to himself.
But he doesn't drop her hands. ]
It is nice.
[ Careful. This isn't even close to the line anymore. It's all the way over it. ]
I wish we could do this more often. [ Christ. ] I know that we can't, but you should know that I'd like to. I think about it far more than I should.
no subject
Counting on him to go on holding her hands, she draws back a little, then leans over to blow warm air over both her hands and his. It seems like a remarkably unselfconscious gesture, though there's nothing particularly conscious about it either. She clearly did it because she wanted to do it, and without thinking, because had she been thinking, well. She wouldn't have done it. Because it's not allowed.
The line is far, far away indeed. ]
Me too. [ She doesn't elaborate as to whether she means she thinks it's nice or she wishes they could do it more often or she feels the same way as him about wanting to do so, or even a confession that she thinks about it more than she ought as well. It's intentionally ambiguous. Or unintentionally and she thinks all the above happen to be true.
Gansey can decide. ]
Maybe less cold though.
no subject
Maybe we could – just because it’s cold…
[ He’s very careful about the way he puts his arm around her. It hooks gently around her shoulders, and his hand settles on the top of her arm and he pulls her in just a little, to rest against his chest. His other hand keeps hold of hers.
It’s a gesture that seems simple and easy, and on the outside Gansey looks as calm as ever. On the inside, his heart is racing and his skin is prickling and he can smell her hair and she’s close, so close, like she’d been that night under the stars when he held her beside the Pig. He knows that he is not allowed to do this. His breaths are shallow with the risk of it, and with the hope of everything he would love to be between them. A little shiver passes through him, and it has nothing to do with the cold. ]
If I could kiss you, I would do it now. [ It’s a thing he doesn’t mean to say, and his arm tightens around her just in case. ] If I could do that, I don’t think I’d be cold at all.
no subject
She feels him shudder and steels herself against doing the same. Why should she, when she's so warm now? ]
I- I know. [ Now she's stammering, which very clearly has nothing to do with being cold. Fidgeting slightly, her hand finds a fistful of his coat and hangs onto it between their bodies, pressed closer together than she can remember ever happening. But that's not true, is it? She has a small catalog of such incidents, proof they're failing increasingly to forget things they're meant to forget. ]
I would too. [ She lets her forehead fall to his shoulder, lingering over the pale ache that realization causes. This is not allowed.
But there's no mistaking the fact that it's happening now. She feels a brief burst of anger, a silent curse in Fate's direction. She's not sure if it's because she's cursed or because her heart didn't listen when she told herself not to fall in love with this ridiculous, impossible boy. And now they're sitting in the snow, doing everything and nothing they're not supposed to do. ]
no subject
It doesn’t seem fair that they aren’t able to do this. That they can’t kiss, because she can’t kiss her ‘true love’, if that’s a thing that Gansey is. God, is he? He has never allowed himself to think much about that, frightened of the connotations if he works it through. And it’s well that he doesn’t, because even if none of that was true, they’d still be forbidden to do this because Gansey knows how much it would hurt Adam. They cannot be a couple. Gansey cannot be any part of the reason why Adam and Blue did not work out.
Those are the reasons they aren’t together, and they’re reasons that won’t go away. So why does this have to feel so good, and natural, and normal? Why does he feel as though he shouldn’t be anywhere but here? It used to be that only Henrietta felt like home to Gansey. Now, he has that same feeling when he’s with Blue. He belongs right here. She carries every inch of the warmth that comes with home. That must be why he can’t feel the snow anymore.
He turns his head, so that his nose nudges against the top of hers. ]
I know. I know I have to stop this. It’s just, I don’t want to. Not yet, not now.
[ Maybe not ever. God, please help him. ]
no subject
There's a thrill running through Blue, from head to toe, and it gets set off by what Gansey has said. It isn't exactly the first time this has happened, either. While he's just as capable of saying ridiculous things that make her jaw drop and her head fill with defensive retorts, the side of him that may well be no less spontaneous, but hits upon these sorts of sentiments... she likes this side.
This side climbed from his car with a curse on his lips one evening and she felt compelled to follow. Fed her a mint leaf like it could have been a kiss. This side whispers at her over a telephone line late at night.
She huddles closer, blaming the fact that she's trembling on the cold. That's all.
It's just the cold. ]
We don't have to talk right now. [ That feels enormously dangerous, particularly considering the nature of her curse and the one, absolutely forbidden thing between them. Absolutely forbidden because she knows she's meant to fall in love this year and, if she'd admit it to herself, she knows she already has. Naturally, the fairy-tale connotations of 'true love,' or rather, True Love aren't totally lost on her. They've been the background music to her entire life.
Then again, Gansey sometimes seems like he was plucked from some sort of epic adventure story, dropped into a pair of boat shoes, and deposited into her life with singular abandon. ]