Ren puffed his cheeks and nodded, flipping his bangs out of his eyes with a quick turn of his head. The high ponytail atop his head kept his long hair from the back of his neck, he wore a scarf instead, so he wouldn't get to cold, "It's to cold for my taste... Even if it's pretty when it snows."
"Ah." Yixing wasn’t one to be bothered with the weather—he was Death, and he rarely felt anything beyond the utter ecstasy of reaping a dying soul—but he had always been one who sought refuge in the cold. "We would be opposites at that part, then, Mister Ren." His eyes crinkled once again, jade hues hidden behind lashes and lids as he spoke. "I do love the cold. The nights are longer, and a nocturnal person like myself adores that. ‘Tis also the best time for tea, if I am asked."











