Lumacie had not seen snow at all, at least not during Yggdrasil’s relatively short millennia there. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like. To feel the cold seep in, feel slow and sluggish. It felt a little bit like she’d returned to the airship, what with the thin, brittle air and white wisps curling around each of her crewmate’s words. She’d often found herself paying more attention to their exhalations than their conversation, and she couldn’t remember…
The soft, icy motes slowly accumulate on her head sprout, and then over the rest of her. She’s even forgotten to blink, eyes staring inertly as her thoughts begin to peter out. One of her leaves buckles under the weight, and the shock of snow against her scalp startles her awake— she shakes off the cold blanket like a dog shaking water from its fur— irrespective of the person beside her.
— @polarxstar ❀
