Snow Mizer PV Caspian Villin

ᴛɪᴍᴇ |___ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ | @Fire Davies Dialogue/Thoughts ┃ Speech - #007514 ┃Others Speech - #84774d OUTFIT __________

ᴅᴀᴛᴇ | 10/12/2025

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𝔖now had a way of making everything seem magical. That was the only thing Caspian liked about it.

He’d been crouched near the edge of the grounds for a while, fingers numb and pink, tracing lazy patterns in the powder with the tip of his finger. The cold had a sharpness to it, it made his fingers sting almost painfully, but he ignored it.

He hated the cold. He didn't like how it would manage to creep into bones no matter how many layers he wore, and how it made it feel like there were tiny needles all over his body. Still, he had been too bored inside the castle to care at all. Snow had once been amazing to him when he had been younger. But now, it was just cold and very annoying, a nuisance more than a wonder.

Footprints marked the snow behind him, proof that he’d been there at all. He hadn’t been moving much, content to stay in one place. His scarf hung loose around his neck, the ends flopping, as he watched students drift past in clumps, laughter rising and dissolving into breath-clouds. It felt like standing inside a snow globe someone had shaken too hard.

He scooped up a handful of snw and let it sift through his fingers before straightening, which was harder than he expected. Thanks to the humongous jacket he’d bundled himslef into. The jacket shifted awkwardly around his shoulders as he adjusted it. He had thought he would be warm, that the layers would protect him, but the cold still seeped in and pricked at his skin. He tugged at the sleeves, adjusted the zipper, and huffed quietly, already regretting wearing such a big jacked.

That was when a voice cut across the quiet, breaking his thoughts.

“Hey!”

Caspian turned at the sound, pushing himself upright with a faint grunt as the cold protested the movement. His legs ached slightly from crouching. He straightened fully and looked toward the sound, spotting a boy trudging through the snow in his direction, boots sinking with every step. He eyed him approaching, noting the red flush of cold on his cheeks and his breath puffing hard.

“Hey,” Caspian echoed back.

The boy introduced himself. His name was Fire, as he had come to know of. Then came the offer. Caspian glanced down at the open stretch of snow between them, then back up at Fire. A galleon was enough to make things interesting.

“Biggest snowball,” he repeated, testing the words. “For a galleon.” He shifted his stance, boots crunching as he stepped toward the open patch of snow between them. “You’re serious?”

“Alright,” he said after a long pause, standing just a little straighter. “The one who can roll the biggest snowball wins. Also, if I win, that galleon’s mine.”
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ᴛɪᴍᴇ |___ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ | @Fire Davies Dialogue/Thoughts ┃ Speech - #007514 OUTFIT __________

ᴅᴀᴛᴇ | 10/12/2025

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ℭaspian’s gaze dropped briefly to the galleon as it appeared and he exhaled lightly through his nose. “Right. So you’re not bluffing.”

Then the shove came. For a moment, he let himself think about the kind of person who would do this, someone who would shove a person just to gain a head start and then bolt off to build a snowman before they could even properly react. Someone impatient, reckless probably. Like this guy.

It wasn’t a hard shove, not really, but it was enough to throw him off. Enough to be annoying, especially that. He caught himself with a sharp step back, snow crunching beneath his weight. His balance returned quickly, but the irritation came just as fast, settling behind his eyes.

Caspian let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff, shaking his head slightly as he brushed snow off his sleeve with a quick flick. “Seriously?” he called after him, his voice carrying easily across the open space, edged with disbelief more than anything else. “You shove people now?”

He watched Fire for another second, eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief, then the thought crossed his mind. The snowball wasn’t going to build itself.

He clicked his tongue in dissaproval and turned, boots pressing clean tracks into the untouched stretch he’d chosen earlier, dropping into a crouch again. If Fire wanted to rely on a head start, that was his problem. Caspian wasn’t about to chase him around like it mattered that much. It didn’t. Not really.

He dropped into a crouch again, the fabric of his oversized jacket bunching awkwardly around his arms as he moved. It made everything feel heavier and slower. like he was working against his own clothes as much as the cold itself, but he adjusted without thinking too much about it. Pressing his hands into the white powder, he flexed his fingers, feeling the stiffness of the cold already creeping into them despite his gloves. It settled in his joints in that dull, annoying way that made every movement just a little more irritating than it needed to be. He ignored it. It wasn’t like the cold was going anywhere.

He scooped up a generous handful of snow with both hands, cupping them together before placing it down in front of him, forming the beginnings of a small mound. The top layer crumbled too easily, slipping through his fingers in soft, useless clumps, and he frowned slightly at it before trying again. It had been too loose.

He made a ball that didnt crumble in the second try. He packed it together more firmly and he set it down carefully, then gathered more snow from the sides, pulling it inward and pressing it against the forming ball to make it more bigger. He was planning on making it as big as he was. Or, if he was being more realistic, at least big enough to make the effort obvious. As big as an anglerfish. He wasn’t going to lose to someone who shoved people for a head start.
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