Word count: around 460
Genre: general
Rating: worksafe
Note: Re-posted, although not re-written. Written as part of an app for an rp, but I never used it. So, sharing it here instead!
It was a well known fact at the Black Order that Lavi loved winter. When the first snow fell, everybody in Headquarters knew exactly what to expect. Some of the younger and more enthusiastic Finders and Science Department staff had over the years started to look forward to the day when winter arrived very much, and when the redhead came down to the dining hall in the morning with his one visible eye sparkling with glee, Lenalee had already managed to assemble a small group of potential participants for what had become the traditional first snowfight of the winter.
As usual, Bookman would yell at him to stop behaving like a child and trying to run away from his duties as he dragged the rest of the group with him, all while silently approving of his behaviour, as it was something that would most definitely be expected of his current persona.
And they would all have a wonderful time, the organized fight soon turning into a friendly brawl, where no one was afraid of using dirty methods to get a chance to stuff as much snow as possible into another's shirt. Since Lavi was indeed the most experienced with pranks, as well as the most creative when it came to coming up with comebacks that would make his opponent sputter with shock just long enough to let the Bookman apprentice shove a handful of snow into the other's face and get out of reach, he usually won.
Though Lavi would never admit that the reason why he wanted to play in the new snow so badly had nothing to do with his alias' playful personality at all. To tumble about in the snow, build fortresses, make snowmen that looked suspiciously like the old panda – and some of the other members of the black order as well – was just methods that that justified the means. The truth was, he couldn't bear to see all of that sparkling whiteness for long. It was too pure, too clean and untouched. It reminded him of new parchment, yet to be spoiled by ink that told the horrible story of mankind's cruelty.
...or so it used to. Now, he thought of words which told the story of people he knew dying. One day, he would have to fill those empty pages with scribbles about Allen's death, about Lenalee's sacrifices, about how Kanda has never been able to open up and realize how people actually would mourn him after his passing.
And his enthusiasm to go out and play in the snow only increased as he started caring more and more. He never wanted to write down their deaths in his records, and as long as he was alive, he'd make sure he wouldn't have to.