Can I interest you in a Mycolaem Winter Experiment?
Pastel has never been outside the tower. They've seen the world through windows and picture books, but they have never been outside. They were grown here, in a lab in the tower, they grew here their whole life. The farthest they've gone is outside their enclosure, to the mage's study specifically. But outside? Into the world?
No! Never! This is not for Pastel.
The mage has them bundle up in a little vest and scarf sewn to their size, they don't know why this is. The tower is kept to the perfect temperature for growth and sustainability, not too hot, not too cold, humidity just right. The mage pulled socks onto their legs before picking them up gingerly, cradling them in its arms as it carried them towards the grand entrance doors. Pastel pressed against the mage, eyes wide in anxious excitement as they were carried through. Awe struck them as they found themself in the world for the first time.
It's cold! The world is freezing! The sky a deep gray and white covered the ground, falling from the sky in gentle flakes. They squeaked as the flakes landed on their cap and melted, running off in drips of water. The mage shifted its hold on Pastel, the Mycolaem squeaking in protest as they were lowered to the ground. They were held over the soft sheet of white beneath them, keeping their peats and legs folded close to their body away from it. Slowly, their legs lowered, peats dipping into the white and flinching back at the cold that greeted them. They didn't quite hear the soft reassurance of the mage, but knew the feeling of it. They took their time lowering their peats again, only twitching this time at the cold before they were lowered further, sinking into the powdery white.
The mage let them go, laughing breath coming out in puffs of steam. Pastel turned back to it, bouncing in the cold powder. What's so funny? This is all very strange!
Snow? Now the mage is making up words, Pastel is sure of it. Snow? Snow. They will not call the cold powder snow, they will think of a better name. While they think of this name, they returned their attention to the sky and how the power falls from it. They twitched, blinking as the flakes — the flakes are cold, too! — hit their eyes and melted. They looked up to the mage, watching how it acted to the cold powder. The mage tilted its head back and stuck its tongue out, catching flakes with its mouth. Pastel blinked, head tilted in question at this. They thought that this was silly, in vain, the flakes keep melting! Silly mage, you can't hold the flakes if they keep melting.
Wait, no, mages taste with their mouths, not their peat- feets, their feets. That can't be why either. The powder doesn't taste like anything? They would know, their peats are deep in it. Water? Soil? These things are the flavor of the powder, and the flakes too, they're sure. They can't understand why it is doing this. Still, Pastel tilts their head back and sticks their tongue out as the mage does. It tickles having the flakes fall on their tongue, but now they have a mouth full of water.
Now they're bored of that. There is more to see!
Pastel shifted, cold powder clinging to their socks as they lifted up their leg and took a big step. The powder creaked and crunched beneath their peat, then again as they took another bit step. Growing more sure of their footing, they stip-stepped through the powder towards a tree. They peered up at the tree, staring at the dangling spires of ice handing off the branch. A drop dripped, landing on their face with a frigid splash. They squeaked, fleeing from the cold, running up the mage and into its arms, seeking warmth and rubbing the cold water off and onto its face. The mage cooed at them, petting them reassuringly before placing them back on the ground.
"Here, let's make something." It offered as it crouched down, hands scooping up some of the powder and patting it down. Pastel watched carefully as it made a ball and placed it on the ground. "Now, you try."
Pastel blinked at it, then the ball of compressed powder, then back at it again. They nodded once before leaning down, shoving their face into the cold powder and coming back up with a big mouthful. They rolled the powder around in their mouth with their tongue, crunching down and pressing the powder into what they think is close enough to a ball before placing it down on the ground. The ball was a little on the oval side, but they are proud of it. The mage took their ball and placed it on top of its, patting the balls down carefully. The mage made another, smaller ball and placed it on top of the other two with a beaming smile. Rummaging around, it found two twigs and stuck them into the middle ball.
"There! A snowman. Great job, Pastel."
Pastel scrutinized the creature of packed cold powder. Snowman? Snowman. No, they don't like this name either. They'll think of something better.
"C'mon, kiddo." The mage urged, extending its hand to them. "Let's get you back inside before you freeze."
Pastel took a step then stopped, looking back at the—what is it again? Oh!—snowman. Their eyes drooped, pinched into frown as they stared at the lonely little powder creature. No. No, they cannot leave the snowman lonely. So Pastel ignored their mage, turning back to the snow and diving in again, coming back up with clumps of cold powder they worked into balls. As close to balls as they can get at least. They stacked three balls of powder on top of each other before running off closer to the trees, plucking sticks from the ground before running back. They stabbed the little sticks into the side of the middle ball and stepped back to admire their work.
"You made them a friend?"
Pastel clicked with a firm nod.
"That's so sweet of you."
Pastel's chest puffed out, filled with pride.
"But no, really, let's get you back inside, little guy." The mage insisted now, picking Pastel up and carrying them back inside the tower. Even as the ever comforting warmth of the tower washed over them, they couldn't help but long to return. Pastel watched the frigid world outside as the last sliver of it vanished behind closed doors over the mage's shoulder.
Yes, they would very much like to do that again.
