Chapitre 22: Grey Skies
"Eeee~!" Priscilla squeaked as she flung herself into the snowy fallow.
Balls of snow exploded around her, sending puffs of white to settle over her freshly bought winter clothes. The rows of dirt in the large field were just high enough that Priscilla was hidden from view. All around her, joyful shrieks of children danced in the air. A figure passed through her field of vision up ahead. Graceful and beautiful; it held a snowball in hair as her angelic hair chased after her.
The children screamed louder and a herd of children passed dangerously close to her. She nestled into the rut, trying to avoid detection. The children cried out as the figure gave chase. Then, deeper voices joined the fray. Priscila dared a peek and rose just high enough to see past the snow. To the west, on the village side, ten teenage boys were bounding across the field; careful of their steps and picking up snow to toss.
She turned to look back, where small children were scattering in every direction. At the epicenter, Cyril stood like a valkyrie, adorned with a prideful grin. She looked around in an exaggerated manner, then she bolted after the one. She ran at a speed that outpaced the little ones, but it was slow enough not kill everyone's fun. She had done it at first, then, she had learned how to control herself.
Because this was a children's game, snowball tag.
And it was everyone against Cyril.
However, as they all found out, no one can fight Cyril. While she was clumsy and often lacked precision; she made up for it in reaction and movement speed. She couldn't hold herself back in the heat of the moment, and thus, she didn't throw any snowballs. She opted for pressing them against the others. Softly at that. She'd slow down before she attempted to tag. This presented the biggest advantage to the children.
Also dressed in fresh winter clothes, but lighter dressed than anyone else; Cyril slowed as she came upon the child, her breath a stream of wispy smoke behind her. She reached out to tag him, but he dropped herself flat on the group. Cyril missed by several inches as she tried to stop. She sprinted past him nearly ten feet before she was able to turn. By the time she did, the boy had already managed to get up and sprint away.
A hail of snowballs came sailed through the air. The other children covered the boy's retreat. The newcomers dared to advance on Cyril, unaware of her prowess.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone