Home Invasion
IC date: Spring 18, 1007
OOC date: April 8, 2012
PCs: Bosstone, Snowfield
NPCs: None
GM: None

It's been a long week for Snowfield, between accidentally sealing herself inside an enormous ice crystal and then being so unwilling to accept help back home that she ended up crashing for the night in somepony's abandoned lean-to halfway back to the Wintersong Forest. It was not a particularly restful sleep and the mare will be more than glad when she can spend a few days recovering in her isolated forest cottage. Hopefully that dumb aviator has gotten the debris out of her roof in the intervening week since the crash.

She makes her way through the familiar forest paths towards her house, already feeling comforted by the familiar everpresent crust of snow dusting the ground. The clearing should be just ahead…

Let's start with the good news first. The propellor blade that had gotten stuck in the roof of Snowfield's cottage is very definitely gone. So there's that.
However, all the debris from the little airship that had fallen to earth apparently got dragged to just outside Snow's home, where it lays in a scattered, disorganized pile. The main body of the craft is likely still back in the trees.
To top it off, there's the sound of a harmonica coming from the cottage itself.

Snowfield comes to a halt when she makes it to her clearing and sees the great divots dug into the ground by the airship parts that have been dragged onto her lawn. Her lips twitch slightly as she takes in the sight and the lilting melody drifting from the windows of her home. Her expression hardens in preparation of a terrible sight as she she trots up to the door and pushes it open.

Nothing inside the house has been changed or even really touched, it seems. …Well, aside from the small spot of light that comes in from the hole in the roof. And, of course, the big stallion stretched out on the bed playing the little mouth harp.
He's not too bad at it, really. It's a jaunty, happy little tune, but it cuts off as soon as the door swings open. Bosstone lowers the harmonica, blinking at Snowfield quizzically from where he's stretched out on his back, holding the little instrument between both forehooves. "Um…hi?"

It's /him/. The aviator. Snowfield gives Bosstone an indecipherable expression for several seconds as she tries to figure out which emotion is the best to let loose, eventually settling on forced calmness. "What are you doing in my bed?" she asks wearily.

BossTone's eyes widen in surprise, and he just about tumbles out of the bed in his haste to get up. "Oh! Uh, right! This is- right. Um." The harmonica vanishes into a pocket of the jacket as he gets to his feet. "Nobody was living here, so I kinda, um. I mean, you've been gone a week, so, er." The stream of embarrassed words ends at an embarrassed smile. "Sorry?"

"Of course I've been gone a week, I've been trapped in that accursed harbor since it froze over," Snowfield says sharply, nevermind that there's no way Bosstone could have known that. "And I return home to this! A strange stallion in my bed and my lawn filled with scrap!" The little mare hops a little for emphasis, an unfortunately cute gesture.

"Woah, woah! Easy there, li'l britches." Bosstone waves a hoof in what he hoped was a placating gesture. He tilted his head, blinking at her. Embarrassment seems to have stepped aside for curiosity. "You were trapped in all that ice? How the hay'd that happen? And how the hay'd you get out?"

"I was trapped because I froze it all," Snowfield says with irritation, moving to what passes for a kitchen and opening the cabinets to see if the red stallion has emptied her proverbial fridge. "And I was let out by a gypsy. You might want to get checked out by a witch doctor, incidentally, there's a magic contagion spreading around the town and if you've been staying here all week you might be a carrier."

Yep, the food's gone. But hey, it probably would have spoiled in a week anyway, right? He stands and stares at her, eyes getting wider with each sentence. "You froze it? Gypst? Witch doctor? /Magic contagion/?" He slumps, letting his rump fall on the bed despondently. "Nopony mentioned any of /that/." He gives a little shiver. "What kinda stuff does it do?"

Curse it all! The unicorn grabs one of the only things left on the shelf, a bottle of hot sauce, and takes a swig of it in frustration. She scrunches her lips momentarily but doesn't otherwise seem bothered by the heat of it. "It makes magic stop working properly. Unicorn magic and pegasus cloud magic both. I don't know what it does to earth ponies, maybe you just become carriers and spread it to the unicorns and pegasi around you." She turns around and points at Bosstone with the hot sauce bottle. "You're in my bed again."

"H-hey, caref-" BT's warning falters as she downs the sauce and doesn't start gasping or tearing up or anything. He frowns, though it turns into a momentary 'eep' as she accuses him and he stands up straight again. It returns quickly enough though, and he tilts his head. "I remember you now. You were one of the kids at the crash." He grimaces. "Yelling."

"I'm not a kid!" Snowfield says with an impertinant stamp of her hoof. "I'm easily as old as you, if not older." She shakes the hot sauce at him accusingly once more, thankfully avoiding a spill thanks to the lid being back on it. "And you'd do well to show some respect to the mare whose house you broke into."

BossTone arches an eyebrow, plainly skeptical. "Naw, can't be. You're way too cute to be that old." He grins a bit, though still a little sheepish. "But yer right of course, uh, /ma'am/."

Snowfield marches right up to Bosstone and puts a hoof by her eyes. "These are not the crows' feet of a little filly," she says matter-of-factly. "And if you make fun of me like that one more time I'll freeze your rear in a block of ice." She heads back to the cabinets to close them all, still annoyed that this dumb stallion ate all her food. "What are you going to do with all of that junk you dragged onto my lawn?"

BossTone shakes his head. "Dunno yet, m- uh, k-" He snorts, sounding a little exasperated. "Look, what's your name? Unless you wanna go by li'l britches, 'cause old or young it sure fits."

"It's impolite to demand somepony's name without introducing yourself first," the unicorn says, punctuating the statement with a slam of the final cabinet door.

BossTone gives the little mare a steady look. Finally he huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. "Fine. Look, my name's Boss Tone." He moderates his voice, and something approaching sincerity comes out. "I'm sorry for assuming nopony lived here, even though you're the first pony in a week to come calling. I'm sorry for puttin' all that stuff on the lawn, even though I got to try an' figure out what I can salvage." He sighs. "Got no apple-pickin' idea how I'm gonna get it all back together so's I can get out of here."

Snowfield stares intently at Boss as he apologizes for… well, everything, really. "…Snowfield," she says simply before turning for the door. "I don't believe there are any engineers of sufficient skill at the harbor to help you put your whirlygig back together, and I certainly wouldn't trust Blackbird if he offers to render aid, so I don't know how long you'll be stranded here if you intend to leave by air." She glances over her shoulder at the taller pony. "I also doubt you'll be able to get those pieces out of the forest in any reasonable amount of time so you may continue to use my yard for sorting out the salvage, but I have no intention of sharing that bed with anypony. Is that clear?"

BossTone's mouth twitches up in relief as she doesn't tell him to get all the junk out in like an hour or two, but the last sentence causes a logjam in his head, and a blush visible even through his red coat. "I- n- you- but you're just a k-" He clamps down, teeth clicking together, and rubs his face with a hoof before sighing. "Right. Pleasure to meetcha, Snowfield. I'll hafta find a new place to crash, I guess."

Snowfield's horn flares with icy blue light briefly when Boss begins to say she's just a kid again but settles down to a dull glow when he catches himself. "There's an inn in the town if you have the money to pay for a room, or a trade you can ply to cover the fee. Failing that you could pitch a tent somewhere, or hope somepony is feeling generous enough to lend you some floor space."

BossTone says "Trade?" There's an audible groan in the word. Like…work? Like work-work? "Ah, jeez…" He stretches out, working each leg thoroughly. "Guess I oughta get started then." He glances at the door, then at Snowfield, a little self-consciously. "Look, if I can help out in any way…""

"Restock my pantry," Snowfield says simply as she stops to open the door and head outside. "And don't let me catch you in my bed again." The ground at her feet begins to glisten, a sheen of ice coating it and turning it into a dangerous slipping hazard.

BossTone glances down at her feet. "Right," he says weakly. "You got it." A few other thoughts come to mind, but he's not /completely/ oblivious; he keeps his mouth shut on them. "I should head back to the ship anyway. Gotta dig out what I can," he grumbles, following her out. And being very careful not to slip on the ice.

Snowfield doesn't seem to notice the ice that's appearing under her feet, or that it continues to form even as she trots back towards the woods in the direction of town, leaving an easily followable trail of frozen hoofprints in her wake. "I shall see you another time, then, Boss Tone. Good day."

BossTone watches the little mare trot off, then sighs and shakes his head before heading deeper into the forest toward the crash site. Luck be an ice queen tonight, yikes.