❛❛ how are you not cold in that thing ?
... @warnsyou !
the frigidity of the evening has touched everything beneath the sky; the heaps of snow lining the london streets, the slick ice making perilous the roads and corners of alleys and spaces beneath gutters and curbs, roofs and sills lined with icicles sharp as blades. as if to combat the pureness of winter, grit and smoke cling to the snow, peppering slush and churning in dark mud, blotting out the clouds with tendrils of ash in places where the streets are narrowest. the pair of them have traversed beyond the thin roads and dingy buildings to hyde park, leaving thomas waiting with the carriage not far off, with coin enough for some of the mulled wine sold steaming and fresh in festive stalls, cinnamon and clove rife in the air. here the winter is shimmering and aglow, bright enough to thwart the bitter cold, joined with the candles and lanterns of its enjoyers, as children and sweethearts skate the pond, and mundanes bundled in layers mill about.
will pulls up his collar, giving jem a wondering glance as the other boy keeps pace at his side, the both of them forgoing glamours, their boots crunching against the snow and scuffing in places where it lies thickest. his heart leaps at the sight when it hadn’t known it yet could, surprising him with warmth spreading in his chest so that he does not heed the chilled points of his ears and nose, and the frostbite that might grip him by the chin. familiarity was no stranger between william herondale and james carstairs; it had not been for some time, though shorter the interval since which they had began to cautiously explore the development of their greater feelings, yet unnoticed by their acquaintance ( nor has it been of late considered extraordinary, that will ceases to go as often as he comes to the institute, the darkness beneath his eyes and general haggardness diminishing for the first time in years. ) a temporary change of heart, they might say: a brief respite from wretchedness still tainting his meandering soul. maybe an interlude outside of certain damnation, as angels all once spent precious hours in heaven, though they were few. such alterations in himself and their consequence are far from his mind now, as the sight of it is filled with one so dear.
❛❛ what ? you can’t mean this coat. ❜❜ bemusement mingles with the sudden puff of his breath, a tell of its own. ❛❛ i’ll have you know it is more than sufficient. kept me warm a night and a thousand in this city without you worrying yourself silly, thank you. ❜❜ will’s pallid cheeks color as he turns on his heel to face the other, pulling at each open end of his coat ( not his finest, as he had not considered he ought to appear in any state save his usual self in the other’s company ) taking several steps backwards on agile feet. if honest, an endeavor at impressiveness that he does not trip. ❛❛ besides, it doth well suit a lovable rogue, don’t you think ? ❜❜
