Seriously, Jack, don't expect this guy to smile. You'll have a harder time with him than even with the Easter Bunny. That guy at least has the muscles for it.
Björn whirls around when the ball hits him, or at least tries to whirl around - a motion stemming from reflexes and not thinking, obviously, because it is just a really bad idea to turn around on the spot when you are wearing skis. It results in the boy getting off balance and falling, remembering at the last moment to throw his arms to the sides and not forward to keep himself from sinking down too deeply and break an ankle from landing in a bad position, or suffocating from getting his head stuck in the snow. For a moment he will just lie there, and then does an awkward rolling up and over, pulling his shoes out of the bindings and rolling himself on the skies. Once he has achieved that, he simply sits on them and...
...and. With the sudden rush of adrenaline fading, he blinks into the crisp winter air, and finds himself realizing that as stressful the fall and the subsequent self-rescue action was, it brought him to stop and actually look at his surroundings. Not that he paid no attention before, but... just sitting here and doing nothing else, it feels... elevating, in a sense. Timo would like this, wouldn't he? He should bring him next time. (And yes, there might be a very faint smile tugging at his lips from thinking about Timo.)
Odd. There must have been a sudden wind, or... it really did feel like being hit by a snowball. Surely that is his imagination, just a wind that hit him at an odd angle, but... He has to think of the stories that his mother used to tell him when he was little, and the many books that he read in that long summer before he met Timo, when his mother was busy with getting settled and he was mostly left to his own devices. Most of the books in the house that they had moved into were old, hand-downs from the childhoods of the first children that lived in the small post-war building. In some of them, King Frost, or King North Wind, or King Winter... had been mentioned, personification of the northern winds and the winter. Right then in the summer, that had seemed very far away, but the description had reminded him of the brother that he'd had to live behind - always up to mischief and trouble, though he seemed a lot older than Vil.
...if Vil could see him now, he would laugh. But his brother is an ocean away, and they haven't spoken in well over a year. There had been good reasons to start the silence - their fights had gotten out of hand, and when every conversation leads to a fight, Björn had figured, stopping with the talks was the only way out. Out here, where nobody can see him but himself, Björn can almost admit that he misses the idiot. Even though he is an idiot who is too loud and talks too much and has way too much energy. And too many ideas. And just.
And he still misses him. Sure, he also misses Sigurd and to a lesser extent Ari, but... they aren't his brothers, and while Sigurd is much more like himself than Vilmar (which isn't hard, really) and he gets along with the Icelander much better, he is not someone that he grew up with from birth...
Björn shakes his head and forces his thoughts to return back to the landscape, just looking. And then he picks up some snow and forms a ball out of it, aiming into one direction and then throwing it exactly the other way at the last minute. Nobody can see him, after all, so he can be a bit childish despite being already way too old for those things. He's not in elementary anymore! But here he is, throwing snowballs at imaginary people.
Because the next will follow right after, this time as far to the right as he can throw. If King Northern Wind is throwing things at him (sure, it was most likely nothing but he can pretend), he'll throw things at King Northern Wind. Someone who doesn't know him would probably think that he is looking quite threatening as he attacks empty air, but someone who knows him very well might see the playful tinge in his movements and expression.
no subject
That guy at least has the muscles for it.Björn whirls around when the ball hits him, or at least tries to whirl around - a motion stemming from reflexes and not thinking, obviously, because it is just a really bad idea to turn around on the spot when you are wearing skis. It results in the boy getting off balance and falling, remembering at the last moment to throw his arms to the sides and not forward to keep himself from sinking down too deeply and break an ankle from landing in a bad position, or suffocating from getting his head stuck in the snow. For a moment he will just lie there, and then does an awkward rolling up and over, pulling his shoes out of the bindings and rolling himself on the skies. Once he has achieved that, he simply sits on them and...
...and. With the sudden rush of adrenaline fading, he blinks into the crisp winter air, and finds himself realizing that as stressful the fall and the subsequent self-rescue action was, it brought him to stop and actually look at his surroundings. Not that he paid no attention before, but... just sitting here and doing nothing else, it feels... elevating, in a sense. Timo would like this, wouldn't he? He should bring him next time. (And yes, there might be a very faint smile tugging at his lips from thinking about Timo.)
Odd. There must have been a sudden wind, or... it really did feel like being hit by a snowball. Surely that is his imagination, just a wind that hit him at an odd angle, but... He has to think of the stories that his mother used to tell him when he was little, and the many books that he read in that long summer before he met Timo, when his mother was busy with getting settled and he was mostly left to his own devices. Most of the books in the house that they had moved into were old, hand-downs from the childhoods of the first children that lived in the small post-war building. In some of them, King Frost, or King North Wind, or King Winter... had been mentioned, personification of the northern winds and the winter. Right then in the summer, that had seemed very far away, but the description had reminded him of the brother that he'd had to live behind - always up to mischief and trouble, though he seemed a lot older than Vil.
...if Vil could see him now, he would laugh. But his brother is an ocean away, and they haven't spoken in well over a year. There had been good reasons to start the silence - their fights had gotten out of hand, and when every conversation leads to a fight, Björn had figured, stopping with the talks was the only way out. Out here, where nobody can see him but himself, Björn can almost admit that he misses the idiot. Even though he is an idiot who is too loud and talks too much and has way too much energy. And too many ideas. And just.
And he still misses him. Sure, he also misses Sigurd and to a lesser extent Ari, but... they aren't his brothers, and while Sigurd is much more like himself than Vilmar (which isn't hard, really) and he gets along with the Icelander much better, he is not someone that he grew up with from birth...
Björn shakes his head and forces his thoughts to return back to the landscape, just looking. And then he picks up some snow and forms a ball out of it, aiming into one direction and then throwing it exactly the other way at the last minute. Nobody can see him, after all, so he can be a bit childish despite being already way too old for those things. He's not in elementary anymore! But here he is, throwing snowballs at imaginary people.
Because the next will follow right after, this time as far to the right as he can throw. If King Northern Wind is throwing things at him (sure, it was most likely nothing but he can pretend), he'll throw things at King Northern Wind. Someone who doesn't know him would probably think that he is looking quite threatening as he attacks empty air, but someone who knows him very well might see the playful tinge in his movements and expression.