[ Allen's friends are terrible and he hates everything. Yes, that is definitely why he ran from the Order and kept everyone he loved at a distance. The warmth on his skin must be from Lavi's flames and not at all from the warmth in his heart at this familiar, companionable banter. Nope, he's not feeling any of that at all.
As most of the mob melts to the ground, Allen starts with realization. He could call some fire of his own! He's not all that great at dunamis, but maybe . . . ! Maybe anger isn't the only emotion that calls forth a flame. Completely unrelated to his previous train of thought, of course.
He stops clawing at the snow around him and instead presses his palm against the snowman's body. It takes some doing, but eventually, the snow begins to melt. A red light glows out from his hand as the warmth grows with recollections of his memories and the feelings he's been trying to ignore. Crown Clown's cloak decides to finally join in, and spikes of that familiar white material lash out, harmlessly lancing the snowman. It may not hurt it, but it does at least loosen the snow.
In fact, it loosens it just enough to make the top half of the snowman collapse on top of Allen, burying him in a person-sized drift of snow. The head sits on top like a cherry on a sundae, its gaping mouth crunching and groaning out insults in a language that must be native to the north.
Allen must look so cool right about now. To his credit, a good number of those natives stare down at the sight, distracted by and in awe of Allen's stupidity, opening them up to attack. ]
HECK YEAH IT'S OKAY I never expected canonmates! this is like a xmas miracle
[ Allen's friends are terrible and he hates everything. Yes, that is definitely why he ran from the Order and kept everyone he loved at a distance. The warmth on his skin must be from Lavi's flames and not at all from the warmth in his heart at this familiar, companionable banter. Nope, he's not feeling any of that at all.
As most of the mob melts to the ground, Allen starts with realization. He could call some fire of his own! He's not all that great at dunamis, but maybe . . . ! Maybe anger isn't the only emotion that calls forth a flame. Completely unrelated to his previous train of thought, of course.
He stops clawing at the snow around him and instead presses his palm against the snowman's body. It takes some doing, but eventually, the snow begins to melt. A red light glows out from his hand as the warmth grows with recollections of his memories and the feelings he's been trying to ignore. Crown Clown's cloak decides to finally join in, and spikes of that familiar white material lash out, harmlessly lancing the snowman. It may not hurt it, but it does at least loosen the snow.
In fact, it loosens it just enough to make the top half of the snowman collapse on top of Allen, burying him in a person-sized drift of snow. The head sits on top like a cherry on a sundae, its gaping mouth crunching and groaning out insults in a language that must be native to the north.
Allen must look so cool right about now. To his credit, a good number of those natives stare down at the sight, distracted by and in awe of Allen's stupidity, opening them up to attack. ]