Once again, the crowd cheers and claps while the Airwick crosses her arms, smirking in accomplishment.
The judges write on their boards, giving her prideful stance no heed as they move onto the sixth participant.
An Inferno male stands alone, putting out his hands, and closes his eyes as he tilts his head to the sky. “Dare yo invierno. Dare yo nieve. Tunc todas a semel facio eso crescat!” His eyes burst open.
A wind swirls around him. With it, comes small specks of white. They swirl and whirl around him. The snow accumulates on the grass, on his clothes, in his shoulder-length black hair.
The Inferno moves his hands around.
The mass of swirling snow follows, expanding around the other participants.
The Groundlings and Airwicks hold themselves against the cold.
The Inferno flings his
