Chapter Text
...In a not so distant future...
Trumpet stared at the monitor while Angelito scrolled through his email.
A few minutes ago he was on the floor drawing along with his siblings. Flippa and Tilin were drawing each other and Bobby was drawing his family. Trumpet preferred to draw his dad's windmill. It was home, where his dad gave him his room and important life lessons like being useful and productive.
He finished the drawing and went to show it to the angel, who looked bored out of his mind and was lazily scrolling through documents, reports and now his email inbox.
Trumpet was staring at the monitor along with Angelito, trying to read what each email said, completely forgetting that he wanted to show the drawing to him.
"What's that?" He pulled onto the angel's sleeve with one hand and pointed at one of the emails with the drawing. The angel practically jumped out of his seat and missed the close button several times. "Ostia!" His yelp was so loud the other children stopped what they were doing to look at the angel. Trumpet shrugged at them and Flippa rolled her eyes. He didn't think he was being that quiet this time.
Angelito leaned back on his chair to regain his breath then turned to him, "What do you want?" He ignored the angel's annoyance and pointed again at the monitor. The angel gave him a confused look. Without breaking eye contact, the baby dragon kept pointing at the monitor. He frowned as the angel pursed his lips, glancing at the monitor then back to him.
"Sorry Trumpet but I can't show you," The angel said while flicking his propeller hat, "It's bad stuff," Trumpet knit his eyebrows and crossed his arms.
"Don't give me that look!" Angelito raised his hands in defence. He shook his head and handed the drawing to the angel, ensuring that he didn't crumple the paper. That gave him enough time to also reach for the mouse and go straight back to the emails. "This is a really nice drawi- EY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE YOU DOING?!"
As much as the angel wanted to, he would not let go of the mouse until he got to see the cool windmill blueprints again, "Give it back." The baby dragon scowled and pointed at his crumpled drawing.
Angelito sighed, letting go of his wrist and giving the drawing a second glance. He knew the angel hadn't really given the drawing much thought because it took him three glances to understand what Trumpet wanted to see.
The angel clicked his fingers, "Oh, you want to see the weather stabilisers?" The baby dragon hesitantly nodded, wondering if the windmill system he saw was actually for a windmill. It looked so similar. Suddenly he was being raised onto the angel's lap. "I'll show you if you let go of the mouse,"
So he did. They spent the rest of their free time looking at the blueprints and pictures of the said 'weather stabilisers'. Trumpet listened in awe as Angelito attempted to explain the system. Apparently, it used the same machinery as his dad was using for their windmill, explaining why they were so similar but had a completely different functionality at the same time.
One thing was confusing though, he tapped the angel's arm and pointed at a word. Angelito followed along with the cursor and hummed, "Snow? That's when ice falls from the sky,"
"That sounds like it hurts," Tilin said in a sad tone, also scaring the hell out of the angel and almost being elbowed. The angel reprimanding his sibling for standing right next to them became background noise for the baby dragon. All he could think about was how cool the weather system was and how awesome his dad is for knowing how some of these machines work.
Snow does sound fun though.
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...In a slightly distant future…
Trumpet gazed outside at the white ground. Apparently that was snow.
Uncle Tubbo and Sunny were playing outside while he was inside, still working on a personal project. What started as a boring task suddenly became his best project ever. He was turning scraps into a metallic dragon that was supposed to spew flames. It was something he was definitely going to save to show his dads.
His uncle told him he was not ready for big projects yet, but it wasn't fair! Sunny got to work with him and he didn't! Maybe if he perfected the scraps then he would be able to work with his uncle and cousin. Unfortunately, the biting cold that stabbed his hands was a challenge he wasn't expecting. Trumpet carefully placed down one of the wings he'd been remodeling during the morning to rub his hands together.
An oncoming sneeze took him out of his thought process. Right, he was also sick because he walked from home to the factories without the proper clothing. In his defence, it only started snowing when he got there. The weather machine people must have broken the weather machine thing.
He has made up his mind, snow is bad.
Yet, his eyes wouldn't leave the snow. Trumpet wondered if there was a way of making his metallic dragon spew snow instead of fire. Was that even possible? How would he get the snow to stay in the toy? Would the snow turn into water? So many questions.
Was snow as fun as his uncle and cousin made it out to be? He hugged himself with his tiny wings as an attempt to keep himself warm. He needed to figure out if it was good or bad before it melted away.
Someone gently knocked on the metal wall. He looked up and was met with Ang- Rubius and Willy. The photographer switched Trumpet's propeller hat for his green cap. He held up the oversized cap to see the smiling duo.
“Still sick, little genius?” Willy said the obvious with a smirk. The baby dragon raised a brow at the comment, holding back the need to pout.
The bear hybrid let out a joyous laugh, "What kind of question is that?" He swung a relatively heavy backpack he had onto the floor in front of him. His brow never went down. "Looks like Christmas came early this year," Rubius said gesturing towards the backpack. That was enough permission for him to hesitantly open it.
It was everything he needed to play, er, examine the snow. A brand new coat, gloves and a knit rainbow scarf. He didn't care that the scarf was wonky or that the coat was a bit oversized, it was perfect. His eyes lit up and he looked at his uncles to ask if all that was for him. The bear hybrid nodded and he enthusiastically put on the warmer clothes.
As he was about to run outside, Willy handed him a healing potion, "An extra gift, get well soon Trumpet," Trumpet swatted at the photographer messing with his hair but later smiled a thanks. Last thing he heard before joining Tubbo and Sunny was Rubius asking where Willy got the potion from and getting no answer.
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...In a distant future…
Trumpet watched his siblings play in a snowball fight, or snowball war as they called it.
He was definitely more content with staying by the sidelines watching Richas and Ramon getting buried in the snow by Sunny, Empanada and Pepito. Ah, the horrors of war, how terrible. He took a sip of his hot chocolate.
The snow crunched next to him, "Still wearing that old thing?" He turned to see Tilin covered head to toe in warm clothing. He almost spat out his medium chocolate at how ridiculous she looked. "Yeah, it's stylish," He answered, doing his best to hide the fact that he was about to burst out laughing. It didn't work.
"I knit you a better one years ago!"
"Doesn't hold the same sentimental value,"
"Fair enough," His sibling mumbled defeatedly.
A comfortable silence followed. At least for the duo, their siblings were screaming bloody murder while firing snowballs left and right. Trumpet turned to her again, giving her a sarcastic sneer. She noticed and sighed, "Yeah, not allowed," He hummed in response.
Rightfully so, their little prank made him lose a mug. Tilin and Bobby shouldn't have put rocks in their snowballs if they wanted to keep playing in snowball war. "I'm surprised they didn't catch all the EGGs that were doing that," His sibling elbowed his side. He looked away, trying to forget that he gave them that idea.
Her smirk vanished as soon as she remembered why she was there, "Oh shit, dinner's ready!" She facepalmed and yelled at her siblings to end their war. Richas swore revenge loudly.
Trumpet took another sip of his cold chocolate, frowning that it changed from hot to cold so fast. Tilin slapped his back with her wing, trying to better his mood, "C'mon Trompeta, your dads made the best Christmas turkey I've ever seen,"
He snorted, "Dad can't cook," His shoes crunched the snow along with his sibling's. "Yeah, that's why I said dads, plural, and not dad, singular,"
He smiled that their biggest problems now were so mundane. Yeah, winter break and snow wasn't that bad. His sibling continued, "Hey, did you ever finish that-"
Suddenly a freezing ball of pure evil hit the back of his head and slid down in his coat. He threw his mug in the air as a reflex, cursing and frantically flapping his wings at the sensation. Pepito yelled out an apology while Richas cackled.
He changed his mind. Winter break is terrible and snow is evil.