There was something to be said about the cold, crisp weather this time of year, how everything was blanketed in a layer of white that sparkled and shone. Innocent and lovely, so different from the harsh sun and sand dunes of home.
At least until you realized the loveliness hid slick ice and temperatures that would cause nerve damage in minutes if one wasn't careful. Then you realized it could be just as brutal, but in different ways.
Right now, Legato needed that under layer of potential deadliness, the sharp sting of freezing cold air in his lungs and against his face and fingers. Not enough for danger, but enough to keep him present.
Mostly.
There was a bench near a decent sized pond, tucked under a bare tree. He's settled there, despite the frigid temperatures, the snow, and ice, leaned back with his eyes closed, just breathing. Drawing the sharp air in and feeling it, just to keep feeling something. His usual net of threads isn't spread around him, too focused on feeling his own existence to bother with that of others. If he'd been paying attention, he would have noticed that the cause of his current state was far too close for comfort, just crossing the path next to the bench. Perhaps because of his white coat, matching the snow around him, Legato was apparently not noticed either, not until Vash was walking almost directly beside him.
"Legato?"
The human jolts, startled, jerks up from the bench, and promptly slips on the ice around the bench. His automatic reaction is to throw out an arm and catch hold of the nearest solid object. Which of course happens to be Vash.
It doesn't help his stability, not when he's already slipping. One slide leads to another and before he knows it, he's pitching down the small dip toward the only partially iced over pond, still gripping onto Vash. A sharp yelp escapes him as he falls, completely unable to stop his momentum from dragging them both over the edge.
@epilvgue
