Seasons were changing once again; the concerns I had once found within the touch of the sun was turning into a chilling embrace. Each exhale would leave my lips as a small cloud and would disappear within the stale air. Humans usually were quick to forget that the cold was a sign that death was near.
The leaves had long since fallen, the trees were left to look a lifeless melody that would remain dormant for months to come. To Franck, winter meant a number of positives: the holy regime would be missing for the most part, the frigid temperatures were never a favourite to those whom had seraphic wings. Being educated the demons and hell were connected to boiling natures, no one single mind ever put two and two together as to why it got cold when a wandering soul was around. Hell was, in fact, toasty - but you could comfortably wear your casual clothing and not break a sweat.
Kicking a bible that had been at his feet, some of its pages fell out with the impact. Even this day and age, F.R couldn't believe the common assumptions that still worked its way around the world as plausible rumors. The poor fragile mind would believe in anything really, especially in the face of desperation and fear. The mans mind was always one to be neutral, never wasting his time on people who will hate you no matter what you actually believe in. Pathetic.. really.
A few snowflakes passed the heirs visage, occasionally landing on a few of his very own eyelashes and melting instantly to his abnormally high body temperature. Being so far from where he ought to be, said body temperature had been increasing as the seconds passed. Relaxing his stature against a cracked structure underneath the starry night, small streams of heat were radiating away from his limbs - like a manhole releasing his steam. He was getting tired of hiding away, and for once he wanted to play the game of the reaper as he used to be.
