Razz POV companion piece to "Snowglobe" by @val-triplicate
Treasure Town woke up buried in snow. All the guild could do was wait for the road out of town to be cleared, then they could reopen for business.
Razz sat in the corner of Team Mooncrashers room, hunched over a piece of paper. Waves of unease washed over him, and made the back of his head ache.
This isn't hard, stop ruining it, Razz thought. He checked over his shoulder.
Hal was still bouncing off the walls, and McIntosh hadn't looked up from whatever she was doing.
Carefully, Razz looked over at his bag. He tried to pull it over with his mind.
The bag was surrounded in blue light, and began to levitate off the floor.
Razz's hand tensed to pull it closer.
It flopped on its side uselessly, and spilled pencils across the floor.
He pushed them away, bit the inside of his cheek, and went back to drawing.
You know how to draw a circle, damn it—
You know how to do this! You've done this a million times! You—
"Nothing! It's nothing, go away." Razz pulled the paper into his chest.
Hal had floated closer and hovered over his shoulder.
"CAN'T. WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?" Hal asked. It leaned in, a light, warm feeling radiated from it.
Razz winced when it hit his horns. Great, he thought. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.
Hal's big, glowing eyes searched him.
Razz tried to bury his face in his scarf.
"Hey, why don't we play a word game?" McIntosh hopped down from Hal's head, bouncing a little when she landed.
Razz shoved the paper into his lap and crossed his arms.
McIntosh sat across from them, forming a tense triangle.
"Razz, you can go first, then Hal." Her smile almost reached her eyes, but there was still something behind it that Razz couldn't read.
Whatever, he thought, drumming his fingers.
[Loud -> DANGER -> roses]
"Ruin starts with an R," he interrupted.
"OH," Hal said. "MAY I TRY AGAIN?"
Razz laughed dryly. "Nah, you lose. It's me against Mac, now." He tightened his grip on the paper.
"And that's that! Dumb mistake, but I'm not complaining." Razz stood, throwing his hands over his head, and returned to his corner.
Slumped against the wall, he unclenched his fist and tried to smooth out the crumpled piece of paper.
You can't even draw an apple, or a magnet, or a—
The room felt cold again.