blanket forts and sweet delicacies [ulrik&zelda]
Nov 4, 2023 15:36:51 GMT -5
Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 4, 2023 15:36:51 GMT -5
Zelda Snowspire
A lockdown? Zelda hadn’t noticed. The cold though, she has noticed that. She is yet to master the art of balancing flaming torches and during a snowstorm sounds like the perfect excuse to practice it. Of course, Dragomir has protested the idea of scorching flames within the comfort of the castle, it is their only shelter from the hypothermia outside, just one slip and Zelda could turn the whole thing into ashes.
Is that such a bad thing?
Zelda hasn’t argued it. She is at least one of the lucky ones, capable of practicing her talent indoors while so many have their arena outside the walls.
It is no big deal to Zelda; it is quite soothing being in her room and watching the flurries through her window. All while hanging from her ceiling from the bar screwed to the ceiling with her toes. It doesn’t sound like the typical balancing act but surely sleeping while hanging like a bat requires a lot of strength and balance?
Zelda practices it now, there is a blizzard behind the window pelting against the glass. It doesn’t look like they will be let outside again for a few days. Perfect! Zelda is gripping onto the bar with her fluffy night socks, perfectly slippery and they make for the best practice apparatus.
There is a knock at her door.
”What now?” Zelda groans as she reaches for the floor with her hands. The blood that has rushed to her brain while dangling upside down tips the other way, flooding the rest of her body as she stands up on her face. There is a little bit of dizziness as she twists the doorknob, that is something that she will have to work. ”Oh. You brought…hot coco?” It is Ulrik, two mugs in his hands that are overflowing with whipped cream and he is hauling a blanket too.
”Am I late to an event? I thought we had free time this evening…” His arrival is unexpected as she lingers in the doorway, making sure he cannot peek inside. Zelda Snowspire does not have guests, only the spiders that make a home in the corners of her room. She sweeps a finger through one of the overflowing cream mini mountains in Ulrik’s hand and shoves her finger in her mouth. ”Sweet.”