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White flecks fluttered through the air as Grian shook himself for the umpteenth time that day. Birds were not made for the cold, but he would be damned to miss out on a snow day. The lands of Hermitcraft had been covered in white as a once-in-a-blue-moon snowstorm had rolled in.
Tho not every Hermit was overjoyed with the thick layer of snow, none actually minded it too much. Grian had spent his day turning snow into snowmen, all representing his friends. He had done Tango, Jimmy, Scott, Impulse, Pearl and Scar. He had just begun to work on Mumbo when a certain Elf nearly crash landed into the Jimmy snowman.
“Hey, G! What’re you up to?” Scar asked as he dusted off some of the snow. Grian chuckled as he took in the massive amounts of white that clumped together in long brown hair. That was going to be a pain to remove later on. Tho he wouldn’t mind helping brush the other’s hair, in front of the lit fireplace, hot chocolate in hand.
“Not much,” he eventually answered,” just enjoying the snow.” Scar smiled as he looked over the line up of snowmen. “You can never quite stop building, can you?” A chuckle. “How’s the cold treating you?” Scar asked as he started to build something out of snow. “Eh, it’s fine,” Grian said,” What else do you think all these layers are for?” He vaguely gestured at the thick coat, at and scarf he was wearing.
“Love the scarf,” Scar mentioned, before continuing. “Thanks. Timmy made it for me last Christmas,” Grian said, tugging the red scarf a bit tighter with a smile,” He told me he had to beg Scott to teach him how to knit.” Scar paused the making of his snow throne to coo. “That is so sweet.” Once he was done, he took place upon the packed snow.
“Speaking of scarfs,” Grian began, glaring over his shoulder at Scar,” Aren’t you cold? You’re hardly wearing anything…” Scar hummed questioningly, wiggling around to make himself comfortable. He was wearing a light coat and no hat, no scarf and no gloves. Grian shuddered as he looked at the other. “Oh no, no no no,” Scar quickly said,” I naturally run hot, you see. I’m fine.” Grian shrugged and continued working on the latest member in the snowman family.
“Whatever you say, Hotguy.”
A snort. “But don’t come to me complaining about catching a cold later on.” It was silent for a moment as Grian patted down some snow and Scar watched him work. But every one knew Scar wasn’t too good at staying silent. “Who’s that suppose to be?” Grian couldn’t help but feel a bit affronted by the question. It was so obvious to see.
“That’s Mumbo!”
A beat of silence.
“That’s supposed to be Mumbo?!”
Scar cackled. “That’s not Mumbo. His moustache is all wrong.” Grian gasped and turned around to face the other. “It’s so obvious! And his moustache looks fine. I’m not done yet.” Scar snickered. “Sure, sure. Trust the process hm?” Grian huffed, turning his back to the other. How dare he not see the clear representation of their moustached friend, sculpted by snow and his craftsmanship.
“Hello you two!” Speak of the Devil. “What are you two up to?” Mumbo asked curiously as he landed near the two. He only stumbled slightly upon landing. Only slightly. “I’m watching Grian build,” Scar said, as if he did it on the regular. Oh wait, he did. “Is that so?” Mumbo asked with a laugh,” What are you building?” The last part was aimed at Grian.
“Snowmen,” Grian grunted out as he continued. “Well, they seem to resemble some of our friends,” Mumbo mused as he stood in front of Pearl’s snowy form. Grian puffed up his chest and wings in a proud gesture. “That’s because I am making our friends out of snow,” he agreed happily.
“Tho I must say,” Mumbo said, something akin to amusement in his voice as he looked at the other’s current project,” I didn’t know you were friends with a former dictator…” Gone was the proud stance, replaced by confusion then shock. Scar lost it. He was laughing so hard, he fell off of his snow throne.
“What do you mean?!” Grian shrieked. He looked from his creation, to a trying-to-hide-his-laugh Mumbo, and back to his creation. “That’s supposed to be you!” Mumbo choked on air. “Mate, what do you mean?” he asked startled,” your snowman looks a little like Hitler, not gonna lie.” Scar interrupted his laughing to pop up from the floor. “Oh my Void, you see it too?”
Grian gaped at them. Mouth opening and closing like a Cod out of water. As Scar promptly lost it again, wailing with laughter as he rolled around in the snow, Mumbo tried to still hide his snickering. Grian stomped angrily on the ground and proceeded to smash his current progress to pieces, until there was nothing left. Then, he huffed and started to rebuild.
“You know we were just teasing you right?” Mumbo asked, feeling slightly guilty. “Hmm, but I’m making a better version now,” Grian answered, mischief clear in his voice. “What’s it going to be?” Scar asked, out of breath and not bothering to get up. Mumbo felt himself beginning to regret ever saying something about the other’s snowmen. “Something that represents dear Mumbo a whole lot better,” Grian said, not hiding his grin.
“A massive spoon.”