Fic: Snowy Days
Title: Snowy Days
Written for: disney_advent
Fandom: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Disney)
Characters: Quasimodo, Esmeralda, Phoebus, OCs.
Word Count: 943
Summary: Quasi has some problems with the snow. A few friends help him change his mind.
Warning: None. Well, I abuse Phoebus a bit, but it's all in good loving fun.
---
Quasimodo wasn’t unused to the cold. Living in the windy heights of the Notre Dame towers, he had actually grown quite accustomed to it. The snow, however - that was another story. In his twenty years, he had only seen the snow fall on the city once. He was five years old, and obviously enchanted by it. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to step foot outside, so he didn’t understand what problems the delightful flakes of snow might cause for him in the outside world.
Mainly, he disliked trudging through it. With a leg limp enough as it was, the sleet iced on the cobbled stones of the city made him feel uncomfortable and unsteady. He wrapped his cloak a bit tighter around his neck, shivering as a brisk wind blew by. He held his woven bag of food and painting supplies tightly in his massive hand as he made his way through the narrow twisting streets back to Notre Dame. Some people nodded at him as he passed by, and some smiled, while others walked a little bit faster in the opposite direction. The coldness of those some strangers still stung, but throughout the past year, the smirks and wide eyes had dwindled down in quantity, most people now offering him a sort of warm indifference as he ran his errands, as if he were any other Parisian. Quasimodo felt strangely honored by it, relishing in the fact that the townspeople more or less considered him “normal”.
As he made his way into Notre Dame square, though, he wasn’t in a particularly cheery mood. His boots were wet and soggy, and if he were moving any slower he’d be made of molasses. Snow was beautiful, yes, but Quasimodo decided that he’d much prefer to watch it from his tower than suffer from it first-hand.
Just as he was ready to reach the final stretch of his over-taxed journey, Quasimodo stepped on a particularly slippery set of ice. Without warning, he was sent tumbling backwards into the snow.
“Quasi!”
He rubbed his neck as he lay there on the ground for a moment. When he turned around, he could see his friend Esmeralda running in his direction, worry on her face. As she kneeled down next to him, he offered her a smile, his sour mood perking up a bit in her presence. She always seemed to have that sort of influence over him.
“Are you alright?” she asked frowning. Phoebus followed behind her, concern on his face as well.
“I’m fine,” he replied, taking Phoebus’ offered arm to help hoist him back to his feet.
“The soft, fluffy snow too much for you, Quasi?” Phoebus teased, a haughty smirk appearing on his face.
“Be quiet,” Quasi replied, punching the other man lightly on the arm, and smiling a bit as Phoebus winced and scowled in return.
“Alright, you two,” Esmeralda scolded, arm still on Quasimodo’s shoulder. The two men just grinned at each other, like two schoolchildren, and Esmeralda shook her head with a bit of a fond smile on her lips.
Esmeralda helped Quasimodo gather a few of his scattered items that fell from his basket. Quasimodo was learning over to pick up a few paintbrushes before feeling the impact of a cold, moist object on the back of his head, almost sending him sprawling all over again.
Quasimodo turned around and glared. Phoebus just looked up, whistling innocently.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do!”
“Fleur did it!”
Phoebus pointed at the little blond girl who had appeared beside him, who crossed her arms and whined, “No I didn’t, Kasi, it was Phee!” Fleur pointed back at Phoebus, earnest adolescent displeasure obvious on her crinkled-up face. Phoebus gave her an aghast look of betrayal before getting smacked with a pack of snow in his face.
“Whose side are you on?” he shot indignantly at Esmeralda, who was impishly tossing a pack of snow up and down in her hand while Fleur giggled wildly. She threw the pack of snow towards her husband again, Phoebus ducking just in time, just to get hit from another ball of snow from Quasimodo, the force almost knocking the man down.
“This is not fair,” Phoebus grumbled, gathering snow in his hands. A few other children who had followed Fleur were starting to pack snow as well, giggling and chatting and aiming vague threats at one another. “Oh dear,” Quasimodo muttered, knowing what was coming next.
Soon, it was all-out war. Sides were constantly being shifted, though the man with the shiny gold armor seemed to be the most sought-out target, much to his unhappiness. Quasimodo laughed, ducking the hordes of snow that zipped by, until getting a small direct hit on the back of his ear.
“Cm’here, you!” He shouted, picking up the petite offender by the waist as she squealed happily.
“Let me go!” Fleur giggled, squirming and giving her best watered-down glare, her cheeks red and her hair tangled up and a total mess, her cap having fallen off.
“Never,” he replied, and started tickling her. Her high-pitched giggling mixed with those around her, creating a symphony of noise and delight as the snow trickled down around them all. Esmeralda was still throwing packs of snow at Phoebus with remarkably precise aim, adults chuckled from the sidelines as their children tackled each other to the ground playfully, and Quasimodo was making a little girl laugh with glee, something he was sure he’d never be able to do before creating his new life.
Maybe the snow isn’t that bad after all, Quasimodo thought, as another ball of it came zooming his way.
Written for: disney_advent
Fandom: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Disney)
Characters: Quasimodo, Esmeralda, Phoebus, OCs.
Word Count: 943
Summary: Quasi has some problems with the snow. A few friends help him change his mind.
Warning: None. Well, I abuse Phoebus a bit, but it's all in good loving fun.
---
Quasimodo wasn’t unused to the cold. Living in the windy heights of the Notre Dame towers, he had actually grown quite accustomed to it. The snow, however - that was another story. In his twenty years, he had only seen the snow fall on the city once. He was five years old, and obviously enchanted by it. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to step foot outside, so he didn’t understand what problems the delightful flakes of snow might cause for him in the outside world.
Mainly, he disliked trudging through it. With a leg limp enough as it was, the sleet iced on the cobbled stones of the city made him feel uncomfortable and unsteady. He wrapped his cloak a bit tighter around his neck, shivering as a brisk wind blew by. He held his woven bag of food and painting supplies tightly in his massive hand as he made his way through the narrow twisting streets back to Notre Dame. Some people nodded at him as he passed by, and some smiled, while others walked a little bit faster in the opposite direction. The coldness of those some strangers still stung, but throughout the past year, the smirks and wide eyes had dwindled down in quantity, most people now offering him a sort of warm indifference as he ran his errands, as if he were any other Parisian. Quasimodo felt strangely honored by it, relishing in the fact that the townspeople more or less considered him “normal”.
As he made his way into Notre Dame square, though, he wasn’t in a particularly cheery mood. His boots were wet and soggy, and if he were moving any slower he’d be made of molasses. Snow was beautiful, yes, but Quasimodo decided that he’d much prefer to watch it from his tower than suffer from it first-hand.
Just as he was ready to reach the final stretch of his over-taxed journey, Quasimodo stepped on a particularly slippery set of ice. Without warning, he was sent tumbling backwards into the snow.
“Quasi!”
He rubbed his neck as he lay there on the ground for a moment. When he turned around, he could see his friend Esmeralda running in his direction, worry on her face. As she kneeled down next to him, he offered her a smile, his sour mood perking up a bit in her presence. She always seemed to have that sort of influence over him.
“Are you alright?” she asked frowning. Phoebus followed behind her, concern on his face as well.
“I’m fine,” he replied, taking Phoebus’ offered arm to help hoist him back to his feet.
“The soft, fluffy snow too much for you, Quasi?” Phoebus teased, a haughty smirk appearing on his face.
“Be quiet,” Quasi replied, punching the other man lightly on the arm, and smiling a bit as Phoebus winced and scowled in return.
“Alright, you two,” Esmeralda scolded, arm still on Quasimodo’s shoulder. The two men just grinned at each other, like two schoolchildren, and Esmeralda shook her head with a bit of a fond smile on her lips.
Esmeralda helped Quasimodo gather a few of his scattered items that fell from his basket. Quasimodo was learning over to pick up a few paintbrushes before feeling the impact of a cold, moist object on the back of his head, almost sending him sprawling all over again.
Quasimodo turned around and glared. Phoebus just looked up, whistling innocently.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do!”
“Fleur did it!”
Phoebus pointed at the little blond girl who had appeared beside him, who crossed her arms and whined, “No I didn’t, Kasi, it was Phee!” Fleur pointed back at Phoebus, earnest adolescent displeasure obvious on her crinkled-up face. Phoebus gave her an aghast look of betrayal before getting smacked with a pack of snow in his face.
“Whose side are you on?” he shot indignantly at Esmeralda, who was impishly tossing a pack of snow up and down in her hand while Fleur giggled wildly. She threw the pack of snow towards her husband again, Phoebus ducking just in time, just to get hit from another ball of snow from Quasimodo, the force almost knocking the man down.
“This is not fair,” Phoebus grumbled, gathering snow in his hands. A few other children who had followed Fleur were starting to pack snow as well, giggling and chatting and aiming vague threats at one another. “Oh dear,” Quasimodo muttered, knowing what was coming next.
Soon, it was all-out war. Sides were constantly being shifted, though the man with the shiny gold armor seemed to be the most sought-out target, much to his unhappiness. Quasimodo laughed, ducking the hordes of snow that zipped by, until getting a small direct hit on the back of his ear.
“Cm’here, you!” He shouted, picking up the petite offender by the waist as she squealed happily.
“Let me go!” Fleur giggled, squirming and giving her best watered-down glare, her cheeks red and her hair tangled up and a total mess, her cap having fallen off.
“Never,” he replied, and started tickling her. Her high-pitched giggling mixed with those around her, creating a symphony of noise and delight as the snow trickled down around them all. Esmeralda was still throwing packs of snow at Phoebus with remarkably precise aim, adults chuckled from the sidelines as their children tackled each other to the ground playfully, and Quasimodo was making a little girl laugh with glee, something he was sure he’d never be able to do before creating his new life.
Maybe the snow isn’t that bad after all, Quasimodo thought, as another ball of it came zooming his way.