Once it became clear what happened to people who fell victim to the pixie dust, Winter was downright ruthless. The moment she heard a flutter of wings or an incoming 'squeeeee!' the electric fly swatter came out. She thought that would be deterrent enough once she dropped a few dreamweavers stunned and twitching on the ground, but she was so wrong.
If anything, being a paranoid curmudgeon painted a giant target on her back, and it was inevitable that even Winter succumbed to a daydream that put all of her deepest hopes and desires on open display. While the details could shift and change, the most likely options boiled down to three different scenarios.
In the first, it was clear that she possessed great power. It blazed from her fingertips and flared from her eyes, a cold and frosty power that swirled freely around her. She stood against terrible monsters, enormous and dark, masked and violent. A wave of her hand sent spears of ice rocketing into them, dissipating them into black smoke, before they ever reached the assembled soldiers ready to defend the city against the fearsome invaders. Atlas was safe, and Winter was its vigilant defender.
The second was almost the complete opposite. Instead of power, snow, and darkness, there was warmth, sunlight, and tall evergreens. Within the hills, a humble cottage was quaintly tucked away. Two children, a boy and a girl, chased each other in and out of the house, an enormous dog at their heels loping along to keep watch over her pack. Winter, in dark jeans and a loose silk blouse with the sleeves rolled up, put a sleeping baby gently within a crib with a warm smile on her face, the kind rarely seen outside of her time influenced by the Iris moon. She touched the curtains, peeking outside at her husband who was chopping wood and wiping the sweat from his brow. His features were foggy, indistinct...
And there was the third dream, where Winter knelt in the dirt, gardening gloves snugged up to her elbows as she carefully pruned away the weak and dead growth of a cherished rose bush. A young man who greatly resembled Winter was sitting on his heels beside her, asking questions, which she answered with a patient smile. To her left, her sister Weiss was sitting in an elegant lounge chair, an older woman drawing a brush through Weiss's long, loose pale tresses. All of them had the same features -- white hair, blue eyes -- and even someone who'd never met the Schnees would have found it easy to tell that the four people were family. The father, however, was suspiciously absent, and no one seemed all that concerned about it.
* * * * *
A2. Dreamweavers - Dreams Are For the WEAK!
[Because Winter would want the same treatment, she made it an issue to stop any time she saw someone caught in the thrall of a vivid daydream. She could stop and watch if she so chose, but she's a great respecter of privacy. Whatever is there, she only gets to see a few seconds before she gives the bubble a smart chop with the side of her hand.]
[If the pixies come back, however, you're SOL -- Winter refuses to sing poorly for any reason. How shameful!]
[She'll remain with the dreamer if they seem disoriented, but would prefer to allow the dreamer to retain their dignity and privacy. The only thing that might cause her to refrain from bursting someone's bubble immediately is if she sees herself or someone she cares about featured in the daydream. Hopefully no one is entertaining any lewd thoughts about Weiss, or they could wake up and find themselves rolling down a hill toward traffic, or head first in an outhouse where they deserve to be surrounded in the very filth they imagined.]
* * * * *
B. The Beastmaster
[Winter certainly had no intention of taking a Moonblessed under her wing to such a degree. In fact, she's quite uncomfortable with it. But it seems she has little choice in the matter, because through a chain of unfortunate accidents, or simply finding a B-Cube thrown by someone else and missed/forgotten, or even accepting them from another person who just couldn't deal with it, she now has a loyal and sentient companion who thinks she's just peachy.]
[For those who are unable or reluctant to fight, they're allowed to pass the time however they please. If they truly seem eager to help her out, she'll accept assistance with meals, chores, and continuing construction on the cottage near the edge of the city (it's almost finished!). She'll see that anyone placed under her care receives proper clothing, food, exercise, and a comfortable place to sleep. It's possible that, given enough time, she might actually start to enjoy sharing this kind of relationship. Being trusted...being able to care for another and provide for their needs...she likes that.]
[On the other hand, good fighters are still needed to defend the Prismals from more vicious insect invaders, as well as the ever-present threat of the whitesnakes. These are the ones that Winter works hard, pushing their limits, overseeing their training, even fighting against them herself if necessary. They receive the same care and attention as those who can't/won't fight, but will have far less time to sit around and idle. There's work for them to do, and Winter has no intention of slacking off.]
[If such a fighter shows promise, and is interested in having their aura unlocked, Winter may elect to do so only after providing sufficient warning that the process will drain all of the fighter's chroma and prompt an immediate, critical need for moonlacing (so they'd better be prepared to have a buddy on-hand for that, because Winter isn't going to sleep with any of her subordinates...not until it's post-event and they're no longer her subordinates).]
* * * * *
C. To Market, To Market / Fruit of Temptation
Far too busy to waste her time dawdling in a sea of touchy-feely commercialism, Winter chose only one (1) day to visit the open bazaar. She was loathe to pay with moonlacing on the spot, but it wasn't as if spending a few seconds hugging someone would hurt her. It was just awkward, and whoever hugged her would easily feel how stiff and uneasy she was in making the exchange. A kiss to the cheek was, for her, vastly preferred.
Even so, there were exceptions. There were always exceptions. For the rare few individuals who knew her, and had flirted or moonlaced with her previously, there was a slight possibility that one might ask for more and actually get something out of it (that wasn't a backhanded slap across the face). The product being sold had to be worth it, first of all. Secondly, the seller had to be charming enough to weather Winter's chilling stare and point out that she hadn't said 'no'. The same possibility also lay in the hands of someone with traits that matched one of the strange, oddly colored fruits she ate.
Not that it was easy to tell if she was harboring a sudden, undue attraction to anybody; her expression remained as reserved and cold as it ever did. But the careful observer might notice the signs: slightly quickened breathing and pulse, a touch more color in her pale face, a quiet clearing of the throat at an incidental touch. Whatever Winter felt, she was determined to keep those emotions under lock and key (and the equivalent of Fort Knox on top of that). Just the same, she was only human. She had her limits.
[OOC: For the reverse, eating something white and/or cold could cause an accidental attraction to Winter. Men 21+ only, no sharing with any guy who's had relations with her sister.]
Winter Schnee | RWBY
A1. Dreamweavers - The Dreams of a Soldier
Once it became clear what happened to people who fell victim to the pixie dust, Winter was downright ruthless. The moment she heard a flutter of wings or an incoming 'squeeeee!' the electric fly swatter came out. She thought that would be deterrent enough once she dropped a few dreamweavers stunned and twitching on the ground, but she was so wrong.
If anything, being a paranoid curmudgeon painted a giant target on her back, and it was inevitable that even Winter succumbed to a daydream that put all of her deepest hopes and desires on open display. While the details could shift and change, the most likely options boiled down to three different scenarios.
In the first, it was clear that she possessed great power. It blazed from her fingertips and flared from her eyes, a cold and frosty power that swirled freely around her. She stood against terrible monsters, enormous and dark, masked and violent. A wave of her hand sent spears of ice rocketing into them, dissipating them into black smoke, before they ever reached the assembled soldiers ready to defend the city against the fearsome invaders. Atlas was safe, and Winter was its vigilant defender.
The second was almost the complete opposite. Instead of power, snow, and darkness, there was warmth, sunlight, and tall evergreens. Within the hills, a humble cottage was quaintly tucked away. Two children, a boy and a girl, chased each other in and out of the house, an enormous dog at their heels loping along to keep watch over her pack. Winter, in dark jeans and a loose silk blouse with the sleeves rolled up, put a sleeping baby gently within a crib with a warm smile on her face, the kind rarely seen outside of her time influenced by the Iris moon. She touched the curtains, peeking outside at her husband who was chopping wood and wiping the sweat from his brow. His features were foggy, indistinct...
And there was the third dream, where Winter knelt in the dirt, gardening gloves snugged up to her elbows as she carefully pruned away the weak and dead growth of a cherished rose bush. A young man who greatly resembled Winter was sitting on his heels beside her, asking questions, which she answered with a patient smile. To her left, her sister Weiss was sitting in an elegant lounge chair, an older woman drawing a brush through Weiss's long, loose pale tresses. All of them had the same features -- white hair, blue eyes -- and even someone who'd never met the Schnees would have found it easy to tell that the four people were family. The father, however, was suspiciously absent, and no one seemed all that concerned about it.
* * * * *
A2. Dreamweavers - Dreams Are For the WEAK!
[Because Winter would want the same treatment, she made it an issue to stop any time she saw someone caught in the thrall of a vivid daydream. She could stop and watch if she so chose, but she's a great respecter of privacy. Whatever is there, she only gets to see a few seconds before she gives the bubble a smart chop with the side of her hand.]
[If the pixies come back, however, you're SOL -- Winter refuses to sing poorly for any reason. How shameful!]
[She'll remain with the dreamer if they seem disoriented, but would prefer to allow the dreamer to retain their dignity and privacy. The only thing that might cause her to refrain from bursting someone's bubble immediately is if she sees herself or someone she cares about featured in the daydream. Hopefully no one is entertaining any lewd thoughts about Weiss, or they could wake up and find themselves rolling down a hill toward traffic, or head first in an outhouse where they deserve to be surrounded in the very filth they imagined.]
* * * * *
B. The Beastmaster
[Winter certainly had no intention of taking a Moonblessed under her wing to such a degree. In fact, she's quite uncomfortable with it. But it seems she has little choice in the matter, because through a chain of unfortunate accidents, or simply finding a B-Cube thrown by someone else and missed/forgotten, or even accepting them from another person who just couldn't deal with it, she now has a loyal and sentient companion who thinks she's just peachy.]
[For those who are unable or reluctant to fight, they're allowed to pass the time however they please. If they truly seem eager to help her out, she'll accept assistance with meals, chores, and continuing construction on the cottage near the edge of the city (it's almost finished!). She'll see that anyone placed under her care receives proper clothing, food, exercise, and a comfortable place to sleep. It's possible that, given enough time, she might actually start to enjoy sharing this kind of relationship. Being trusted...being able to care for another and provide for their needs...she likes that.]
[On the other hand, good fighters are still needed to defend the Prismals from more vicious insect invaders, as well as the ever-present threat of the whitesnakes. These are the ones that Winter works hard, pushing their limits, overseeing their training, even fighting against them herself if necessary. They receive the same care and attention as those who can't/won't fight, but will have far less time to sit around and idle. There's work for them to do, and Winter has no intention of slacking off.]
[If such a fighter shows promise, and is interested in having their aura unlocked, Winter may elect to do so only after providing sufficient warning that the process will drain all of the fighter's chroma and prompt an immediate, critical need for moonlacing (so they'd better be prepared to have a buddy on-hand for that, because Winter isn't going to sleep with any of her subordinates...not until it's post-event and they're no longer her subordinates).]
* * * * *
C. To Market, To Market / Fruit of Temptation
Far too busy to waste her time dawdling in a sea of touchy-feely commercialism, Winter chose only one (1) day to visit the open bazaar. She was loathe to pay with moonlacing on the spot, but it wasn't as if spending a few seconds hugging someone would hurt her. It was just awkward, and whoever hugged her would easily feel how stiff and uneasy she was in making the exchange. A kiss to the cheek was, for her, vastly preferred.
Even so, there were exceptions. There were always exceptions. For the rare few individuals who knew her, and had flirted or moonlaced with her previously, there was a slight possibility that one might ask for more and actually get something out of it (that wasn't a backhanded slap across the face). The product being sold had to be worth it, first of all. Secondly, the seller had to be charming enough to weather Winter's chilling stare and point out that she hadn't said 'no'. The same possibility also lay in the hands of someone with traits that matched one of the strange, oddly colored fruits she ate.
Not that it was easy to tell if she was harboring a sudden, undue attraction to anybody; her expression remained as reserved and cold as it ever did. But the careful observer might notice the signs: slightly quickened breathing and pulse, a touch more color in her pale face, a quiet clearing of the throat at an incidental touch. Whatever Winter felt, she was determined to keep those emotions under lock and key (and the equivalent of Fort Knox on top of that). Just the same, she was only human. She had her limits.
[OOC: For the reverse, eating something white and/or cold could cause an accidental attraction to Winter. Men 21+ only, no sharing with any guy who's had relations with her sister.]
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