ORIGIN - [Winter in Polaris] FATHER-SON SNOW FIGHT

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A shoulder shrugged dismissively and Svartis gave a defeated sigh, "it wasn't that funny of one." It wasn't that he was upset by the tough crowd -- he'd known what he was getting into the moment he made that pun -- but, y'know... it was a terrible one. "Yeah, it was a joke." Just a terribly unfunny one in hindsight. Wasn't even intentional until he'd noticed it mid-sentence.

Oh, well.

Icy eyes squinted in mild sympathy again. Dragons had teeth and claws and all that, but what was most central to their being was their magic. An extension of oneself. "We'll figure it out," he tried to assure, then cocked his head to the side. Fins flared up. "Moving -- ... no... ?" Not in the traditional sense, like his sister's control over fire. Once ice was made, it was... rather static. Wind had its will over the substance once all was said and done. But, if he could figure out those blustering gales his mother exhaled...

Svartis shook himself, and turned slightly. "Here --" and he rose up to flap his wings once. A great wall of ice manifested, sweeping at least ten feet in the air and many across. The black dragon swept his tail across the floor, shoving snow into neat piles. No more drifted into the temporary alcove, so at least that would help... ?

In very cat-like fashion, the dragon tucked his wings underneath himself and settled down. "At least... uh, the worst of the wind's gone?" They could rest behind this, let Dread heat himself up, and have at it again later... ? Or just leave entirely. It was up to his dad, really. Svartis'd gotten his thrill of blizzards.

exit svartis?
@Dread

'Yeah, it was a joke.'

Dread hesitated again. He was not often... soft, considerate; he didn't try to put himself in others' (nonexistent, because they were animals) shoes, or try that weird foreign food called 'empathy.' But with his children, he was different; he instinctively tried to be understanding.

It's just that he... well, wasn't. Or rather, he wasn't smart enough to grasp everything, not all the time. And he knew it. And it was frustrating--and even a little saddening, in a way that little else affected the formerly-fire-breathing-monstrosity.

A faint grief gripped him as he considered how to respond--he could fake a laugh, but it was a little late; instead, he nodded firmly to Svartis. "It was a very good joke," he assuured his son, feeling like his soul was falling away, a little. Like that connection between he and his family was never truly there.

If only he were smarter, damn it-!

Then Svartis was casting, and Dread had real reason to praise him.

"Yes! Very good!" he cried, more enthusiasm in this. From behind this, they could definitely launch an assault of some kind...

fade out/exit Dread -

@Svartis purely for visibility

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