It’s nine o’clock at night on Winter’s Veil. What is your character doing? Snippets! A string of rp! Share with the class!

*****

Yva Darrows is in a grassy field in Elwynn, watching a blue dragon flit near Jak’s head and wondering if this was her best idea. The blues are said to be hyper intelligent – at least, that’s what the books suggested. More cunning than most people, a drake hunter in Everlook said, and she’d just gone and procured one of the beasties from Winterspring without hesitation. Jak seems pleased enough, like it was a suitable gift, but she’s having second and third thoughts now. What if he turns out to be a problem? What if he’s smarter than they are? What if he ends up eating the dogs? Or her?

Oh pish. Too late now.

She plasters on a huge smile for Balthasar’s benefit.

“So you like him?”

“Of course I like him.”

She nods and Jak opens his new coat, suggesting she should get under it to share the warmth. Elwynn at night suffers a chill, as she knows. She does so, still smiling all bright and cheery, but her thoughts are racing about the new family member. Jak murmurs in her ear, his arms wrap around her, and the worry of the drake starts to fade away.

It’s only until much later when she’s squeaking like an under oiled gear that she realizes the drake is watching them.

Oh drat. I think it’s grinning.

*****

Vincenza Whitten has her foot in her brother-in-law’s lap. He’s massaging it, his smile aloof, but every once in a while his fingers stray up the back of her calf. She’s too drunk to think about it overly much. Besides, Bairix is here and Bran wouldn’t pursue anything too improper with his brother just a room away.

“I am so glad the two of you came over,” Lea says. “I was so afraid we’d not spend this holiday together.” Her smile is as sloppy as they come thanks to the two bottles of wine the women had shared, and she’s sprawling in the couch near the fireplace looking as content as a cat.

Bran’s hand snakes up to Vincenza’s knee, and then slide slides up to her thigh. The beautiful little smile remains in place as his fingers graze over her skin. She shudders, and it’s not from pleasure.

Damn it. Maybe he would pursue something improper.

“Stop that,” Vinnie leans in and squashes his nose with her finger, her voice low.

“Stop what?” Bairix’s voice this time, from the dining table where he’s enjoying his whiskey. She can feel his eyes on the back of her head.

Vinnie has a choice now – to tattle on Bran or to protect him – and in her addled state she chooses the one that will result in the brothers fighting the least.

“Bran’s just rubbing my foot, love. It’s nothing,” she lies.

*****

Rosilia Mathers is very drunk, but then, forty shots of blue label whiskey with her sister would do that. This was the first really good Winter’s Veil they’d had since they were kids. They had money, they had a roof over their heads. They were even able to exchange real gifts instead of hand drawn cards and whatever was pinchable off of the local gift carts.

“To us,” she says sloppily, raising her shot glass over her head.

“To us,” Lyr says in that same voice, mirroring the motion. They rap their knuckles on the kitchen table three times and shoot the whiskey back before dribbling into their chairs in boneless heaps.

“Holy shit. It burns so good,” Rosie rasps.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Me too.”

” . . . AWESOME.”

And it was.