. . .
"If your eyes are the window to your soul, your smile is the gateway to my universe."
― Matshona Dhliwayo
. . .
That's what you think of home?
Alastor suddenly feels like he had come across on something he shouldn't have. Something that should have been better off left alone.
He shuddered despite himself, feeling a different sort of chill in the air, as he pressed himself closer to her side, for once, wishing that she would remain tight lip about this. "You know... I think I prefer this kind of winter."
When Winters smiled, it didn't quite reach her eyes this time. Alastor's heart clenched painfully at the sight, and he barely swallowed back a sigh.
There was landmine there, a sore spot from somewhere within that particular topic about her old home, a shadow from the past that creeped in and stayed no matter how many years it has been. He didn't know what, exactly has bothered her but he recalled the clear, impersonal way she described of what could have possibly been the only home she'd ever known.
The memories couldn't have been good, then, judging by the way her shoulders had locked up in a familiar stance that Alastor has now come to recognize as almost defense, her gaze turning distant again.
Damn it.
How could he have messed this up?
Alastor just wanted to show her a romantic view, especially since the first snowfall was practically a special event in this country, not digging up painful, old memories...
Wondering how he could possibly salvage this, Alastor let his gaze wander. The air between them had shifted from companiable into a sort of depressing one, but the landscape around them still remains the same and absolutely useless even in its majestic beauty. Who would have thought that talking about something as innocent as the seasons could ruin–
Alastor could have sworn a light bulb just lit up in his brain. He paused, subtly looking back at Winters who had already sat down on a bench in front of them.
She had that sad look in her face again.
And that was all he need to get his resolve.
He will put a smile back on that face.
Winters must have sensed the clear intent coming off from his stare as he backed up a few steps from her because she suddenly looked up at him, her gaze zeroing on him as he bent down and get to work, "Alastor, what are you–?"
...only to receive a projectile of snow face-first.
"Headshot!" Alastor declared, grinning proudly to himself as he watched, appreciating the full view of the snow hitting her straight on the face, the way her hair and skin was snow splattered all over with powders of white.
He rather liked this look on her.
Winters, caught off guard by a mere snowball.
Oh, sometimes life is just too good.
Even he could tell that getting hit by a snowball is the last thing she expected, judging by how she did not (could not) react at that.
She didn't even move to dodge!
Oh, no. Instead, she had gone still as a statue on the bench, eyes still wide and mouth slightly agape as she stares blankly at him, as though her mind was still reeling from the shock that was the snowball, still processing and scrambling over what the hell just happened.
Alastor tries not to laugh.
He swears he really did.
"Close your mouth darling, you look like a koi fish."
She only gaped even more, "Wha...?"
Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from outright cackling (never mind that his cheeks already hurt from grinning too widely, too much now), Alastor made a show of scooping up his next snowball, eyes never leaving her's, a hint of challenge in his gaze.
"Aw, but deer on the headlights is such a good look on you, sweetheart, you should wear it more often," he taunts, patting his snowball to perfection, "...The goddess of shadows, done in by a mere snowball!"
Her eyes instantly narrowed into a glare.
Alastor tries to keep his heart beat normal as he can all but see the moment she had practically snapped out of her stupor, because he still wasn't sure if Winters possessed supernatural hearing like him. He could only hope that he hadn't made things worse.
He just hopes she understands.
That she sees right through his intentions.
Because he doesn't like seeing her look so sad. He doesn't like knowing that something bothers her, and he couldn't even do a thing about it, because I can't erase the pain, or your past... so Winters, let's just make new memories. Happier ones, anything to make you smile... okay?
"What was that?" she demanded.
He shrugs, "...A snowball."
"And you think it's a good idea to throw one? At me?"
"The best, so far, actually," he goads, throwing the snowball up and down in his hand, "What do you say we have a little snowball fight, princess? Or... are you afraid of dirtying your pretty little nails?"
"You are going to eat those words," she says lightly, too lightly, the warning sitting higher up in the inhuman sharpness and gleam in her eyes of black, and Alastor tries to hide the now-delightful chill that ran down his spine at those menacing (and kind of hot) words.
"Big talk for someone who's gotten a mouthful of snow."
When Winters slowly stood up from the bench, every single movement sleek and filled with purpose, lips curling in a familiar smirk, Alastor could have sworn he can hear the unspoken challenge accepted, making him grin wolfishly in return.
Now, that's better.
