Freminet watches the snow fall with quiet awe. He shifts Pers to hold both the penguin and the flower he'd just picked in one arm, his other hand outstretched to catch snowflakes.
"It hardly ever snows in Fontaine," he muses, watching the flakes melt in his hand. "It feels... magical, like a fairy tale. But really, it's just frozen rain. My maman used to say that when it rained in Fontaine, the Dragon of Water, who protects all Fontainians, was weeping... I wonder if that’s the case here as well. I suppose if I’m here, the Hydro Dragon might be here too.”
Freminet blinks. When did he start voicing his thoughts aloud?
Though his internal monologue was constantly ongoing, vibrant and robust, Freminet was typically quiet by nature. He usually only spoke when spoken to, and rarely said more than he needed to get his point across. Freminet tries not to dwell on it; maybe he’s just making up for Lyney’s absence.
“Wherever you are — Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, please don’t cry!”
@hexbornprince
