Wyn woke up, finding himself wrapped in the tapestry, his head resting on something soft. He looked down to find Marshall's jacket flipped inside out, wrapped around an old pillow.
An unusual combination of cinnamon, cloves and grass lingered in the air.
The side door leading to a lush area in the backyard was propped open by a brick, allowing the daylight to pour in. Chipper steps echoed through the main hall as the disciple entered, crossing towards the old cabinets. He paused mid-step upon noticing the snow deity watching him.
"Oh, you're up! Good morning!" an exclaim echoed. "Look outside, it's a beautiful day. There's not a single cloud in the sky."
Marshall flashed a grin, moving on to dig through the drawers. He pulled out a ball of thin rope with a satisfied expression. Before leaving, he turned to Wyn. "Are you getting up?"
"Yes. What are you…" Wyn paused, noticing that his own outer robe was gone from his shoulders. Before he could ask, the disciple walked over with an explanation, a waft of soapy cinnamon following him.
"I took your outer robe to scrub the dirt out. It will take a while for it to dry." He chuckled cheekily, casting a glance at Wyn's inner garments. "Good thing your inner robe isn't see-through, eh?"
While Wyn struggled to process the fact that he slept through someone undressing him, Marshall kept talking, seemingly in an upbeat mood, "I found a crusty bar of soap, but it smelled good, so I used it. Old soap's still soap, right?"
"And now that you're awake, I'm taking my robe back," Marshall hummed, stripping the pillow of its makeshift cover.
It brought up a cloud of dust and he sneezed, keeping the pillow at an arm's length as he carried it away. "Hah. We'll have to knock the dust out of these so we can use them properly."
Wyn folded up the tapestry and followed him outside to see what he was up to. There was a wooden tub with the snow-white outer robe hung over the side as Marshall tied the rope between two trees. Once it was secured, he hung the robe out to dry.
The snow deity watched his smiling face, listening to Marshall humming a melody as he threw his own robe into the tub, getting to scrubbing. The smell of soap mixed with the fresh air, bringing a sweet scent.
Wyn looked up, squinting slightly at the ball of light in the blue sky. The stronghold walls around the castle blocked the wind, making it rather hot under the bright sun. He observed Marshall's dark hair, wondering whether it was heating up.
"Is there anything you need help with?" Wyn inquired, standing beside the disciple.
"No, you've done plenty to help," Marshall glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips. "However!" he pointed up with a soapy finger. "I was thinking about the prophecy, and I want to try blending spiritual and demonic energy together to see what happens."
He continued eagerly, "If the prophecy is right and it turns out to be a major power, then it'd be a shame not to try. But I'm wondering whether my damaged flow would—"
Wyn interjected. "Have you eaten?"
Marshall went silent, slowly turning his head away with guilty grin. The icy eyes narrowed knowingly. "You have not," he concluded, his voice taking on a nagging tone. "In order to lead a healthy life you must—"
"Hey, hey, I just forgot!" the disciple waved his hands defensively, the foam flying in different directions. "Don't go scolding me, we can go hunting once I'm done."
"In our inner robes?" Wyn raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Ah, heh, right, I didn't think about that..." Marshall murmured, finishing scrubbing his robe. He wrung it out to hang it next to the white robe.
Once he was done, he stretched his arms towards the sky, casting a glance at Wyn, who looked like a statue enjoying the warm sun with closed eyes. The sight was majestic... All that was missing was a crown.
A sly grin crossed the disciple's face as he sneakily scooped up some of the brighter foam. His hands dripping with the soapy bubbles, he inched towards the snow deity, but then paused.
If it was Sun Hayden or Lai Rylan, he would have launched the handful of foam without thinking, but it wasn't right this time. He abandoned the idea and turned to rinse the foam off his hands, but an unexpected cold sensation sank over his head. A fluffy crown of snowy foam toppled over his face.
Marshall turned to Wyn with a "Huh?"
"You should keep your head cool. Overheating would do you no good," the snow deity justified the prank in all seriousness. But the amused squint in his eyes gave him away.
"Look at you, making excuses," Marshall snickered, watching Wyn shake the foam off his hands.
Wyn glanced at him knowingly, "Your eyes were moving between my head and the foam. I could tell what you were thinking."
Marshall cracked up, his eyes tearing up from the laughter, "But I decided against it! Did you take revenge merely for my thoughts?"
The disciple continued chuckling, and the crown of foam slid down onto his face, the soap getting into his eye. "Ah, oh no, the crown has fallen!" he reached into the water to splash it out.
"That water is not clean, you will only make it worse," Wyn said, scooping up the clean water from the bucket to wash the soap away. "Here."
"If you wanted to get a look at my pretty eyes, you could've just said so," Marshall joked, plopping down in the grass and widening his eyes comically even though it burned.
"Ridiculous," Wyn scoffed softly, leaning down on one knee.
Marshall held still as clean water was poured over his face, gliding down his chin and washing away the soap. He blinked until his eyes didn't burn anymore, then looked up again, water dripping down his eyelashes.
"Thanks," he smiled at the snow deity.
Their eyes locked for a moment. The sound of the hung robes softly waving in the breeze filled the silence.
Wyn's features seemed softer than usual, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but Marshall beat him to it, the word slipping from his mouth, "Cute."
Like a switch being flipped, the snow deity's brows twitched, and he turned his head to the side, standing up. Was that a bad reaction? But Wyn didn't glare, so it couldn't have been that bad.
Marshall stood up, trailing after him. "Did you know that your owl acted the same way when I called it cute? It fluffed up its feathers and turned away from me too," he remarked with a grin, trying to get a look at Wyn's face.
The snow deity straightened his inner robe as he walked back inside, not looking back, "I will prepare breakfast."
"Plain rice? Wait, I can go catch us a pheasant or something," Marshall followed, confused at the sudden change.
Did the earlier comment annoy him? Perhaps he didn't like being compared to his owl. Or was there another reason?