@constructivecritisms
Dogma thinks, despite his initial misgivings (the list of which is long, itemised, and carefully categorised), that he is coping with this exceptionally well. Never mind the fact that, since he woke up here, he has been avoiding the church like the plague, because one glance through the door make his blood run cold. Never mind the fact that his clothes aren’t suited for cold weather and he might already be getting frostbite. Never mind the fact that the only thought running through his head is cody, cody, where are you, please, over and over like a stuck record.
He has yet to cry; he has yet to ask for help; he has yet to lay down in the snow and give up. Things are going splendidly.
So splendidly, in fact, that Dogma is Taking Steps. He’s a priest; it’s his duty to be in the church, where he can help those who need it, and find himself some solace. Today’s Step is to stand outside the church until he can’t take it any more, until his blood turns to ice, until his breath comes too quick and he finds himself fainting. There is determination in his heart as he approaches the crystal structure.
And then all the determination leaves him.
He sees the blonde hair and the tiny frame and all he can think--foolish, distracted, carefully planned-out Steps tossed to the wind--is that maybe wishes really do come true in this place.
“Russell--!” And he very nearly manages to keep his voice from cracking, too.