LET ME GO ON--OPEN, SNOWCONES

ashen · 07-18-2017, 01:28 AM

[table]

videnda · 07-18-2017, 04:07 AM

"what are you doing, Johannes?" the small teenager asked as she came across the dictator. that was... weird. she had never has a snow cone and sonshe didn't know what it was.
if you had never seen one it would he weird too. "speech"

I'LL BE HOLDING ALL THE TICKETS

BRUCE H · 07-21-2017, 07:53 PM

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9.3pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Bruce had never been overly fond of sweet things. Even as a child, his attention had mostly been directed towards more savory foods. Maybe it was just how he was, but it had worsened with his time at the military base. Years without anything sweet made it feel like too much when he was finally allowed it, and even Dick's twenty-year-old cereals were overwhelming unless they were tempered with something else. However, he can't say that it isn't somewhat intriguing, the idea of flavoring the terribly abundant ice around Flintlock. Pale eyes skirt over the jars and flicker to Johannes, and it doesn't take long to put two and two together. He stands where he had stopped walking for only a moment longer before taking curious steps closer, footfalls eerily silent for how heavy he was. And it was probably a little more eerie that he ends up laughing, a low, short chuckle towards J. Despite what had happened, Win can't honestly say that he hates him for it, or that he even holds a grudge. "You'll overwhelm him with all of those questions," the young man deadpans. Even still, he left all of them for the dictator ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â‚¬Â ha, it wasn't his job.

"What kinds of flavors do you have?" The yellow seemed to be apple, unless Johannes has gone crazy recently. He doesn't want to consider that.

ashen · 07-23-2017, 04:29 AM

[table]

LET ME GO ON--OPEN, SNOWCONES
ashen Posts:5,064 #1 07-18-2017, 01:28 AM [table]
johannes angelicus	.
When Johannes had found wild blueberries growing on the mountain, a number of plans ran through his head. Eat them. Dry them. Try to plant them. It wasn't until he'd harvested all he could, had gotten home, and was glancing over some of their cookbooks in the kitchen, when a double-page spread caught his eye. When they were little--very little--he remembered having...snowballs. Not the kind you threw at someone's face--the kind you ate. The kind that were bright colors with syrup, and with some weird sweet stuff on top--marshmallow. He...loved those. He'd always had a sweet tooth. He loved cold food. Granted, that often was a bit uncomfortable in the cold lodge, but it was summer--and once he'd stumbled upon that recipe, he couldn't get it out of his head. They'd need honey...he knew they had some jars left over, it was saved for very special occasions--they'd need fruit, they had some dried and these blueberries...and snow, or ice. Well. Where on earth would he, Johannes Angelicus, dictator of the Flintlock Ski Lodge, find snow? A couple of hours earlier, out in the hot sun--the air was still quite cool, but without shade, you might find yourself a bit sunny--he'd gotten set up. A big bowl of snow, clean as could be, sat on a wobbly table. Jars of the syrup he'd made--blueberry, apple, and mint--sat beside it, and the cups he'd brought out were stacked nicely. He was munching -- he loved the texture--on an apple snowball, and looked quite content doing so. "Anyone want some?" He asked, looking a bit hopeful to share.	Sinking fast, the weight chained to my feet No time to argue with belief I'm not alone, a thousand others dropping Faster than me
johannes angelicus	.
When Dahlia approached, he felt his brow raise, as he gave a tiny shrug before answering. "Snowballs--" He paused, realizing another was approaching. One he knew would have questions. Still, J's barrage was a bit much, and he opened his mouth--not sure what to tackle first. Jesus--he choked back his first answer, feeling a bit pink as Bruce showed up, and he furrowed his brow when the guy pointed out he'd be overwhelmed. Would not. Well. He was. But he didn't need that guy pointing it out. With a sigh, he recomposed himself, almost as though preparing to give a lecture. "They're snowballs, we used to make them. I--it's like...you make sugar water? But with flavors, and you pour it in the snow. Or ice, but you have to shave it. So I just used snow. And it's like..sweet." He bit his lip, not sure what J meant at the last, but just turned his attention to Bruce. "...There's, um--mint, and apple, and blueberry. It's all I could find. They're not that colorful, but--we don't have, like--whatever you use to make it like that. It's mostly just the flavor. I promise it tastes good, though--" He insisted.	Sinking fast, the weight chained to my feet No time to argue with belief I'm not alone, a thousand others dropping Faster than me
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