Well, maybe to Arthur’s dismay, Oliver had decided that he was going to stick to hi for the rest of the day, and it was merely by coincidence that their paths had crossed. If, in that fleeting moment Oliver had not spotted Arthur, then it was for certain that they wouldn’t still be out in the cold, huddling further into their jackets to keep themselves warm against the falling flakes of snow.
Even so, Oliver found it more than exciting to be watching the flakes dance to the ground, where they joined other flakes as they blanketed the ground about them. It was here that Oliver let out a puff of air, watching as it crystallised and then dispersed into nothing. His gaze then flickered up to Arthur, who was only a few inches in front (Oliver had been a little behind due to trying to follow in his exact footsteps, childishly), but then fell back to the snow around them. The sun glistened off its surface like it would off a jewel, and in his stupor Oliver had a thought. A childish thought at that, but a thought all the same.
With a gentle smile, and his tone laced with a childish innocence, Oliver tugged on the sleeve of Arthur’s coat, asking, “do you want to build a snowman?” It had also taken considerable strength not to continue signing the very same song from Frozen, but managed due to the belief that Arthur probably wouldn’t appreciate such...rubbish? Arthur, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow, watching Oliver for any sort of tell for an ulterior motive; but gave in a few moments later, “alright.”
With a glow to his cheeks, Oliver yapped in delight, simpering off to a new patch of untouched snow, where he simply stood for a moment. Then, after concluding that this was the perfect spot for snowman building, Oliver turned, only to be met with a sensation of pure icy terror. A snowball had hit him full pelt in the face, sending him rocketing back onto his bottom, leaving him in more than just a daze. He could barely even register that he was now laid on his back, tears streaming down his face, never mind what and who had hit him.
Arthur, however, was not in a daze, and his scowl had very much homed in on his targets. Three teens cowering behind a bush, weak-kneed due to their obvious kick from seeing another hurt. In response, Arthur gracefully swept over to Oliver, helping him to his feet, soon after brushing the snow from his hair and shoulders. With a warbling voice, and a sniffle, Oliver whimpered, “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have fallen, I-...what are you doing?” Arthur had seemingly not heard Oliver’s pointless apology, for he was on his knees creating a few of his own snowballs, preparing to teach those kids a thing or two about manners.
As Arthur silently rose to his feet, he had a placid look to his face, and Oliver wondered if underneath he was simmering, anger begging to explode and yell and just throw things; if so, then Oliver wanted to know how he kept so clam? Or was Arthur just a silently angry person? Either way, Arthur watched for one of the childs’ heads to rise above the safety of the bush, and as soon as his shot was clear, he sent a ball of snow hurtling towards the said child.
It hit with a satisfying thud and when all three of the teens scampered away, tail between their legs, Arthur rubbed his hands together, a proud, smug grin on his lips, if only for a moment. He then looked down to Oliver, who stood in awe of Arthur, and stated, “where were we?”
