Snowfallen - Our muses are lost in a blizzard together.
Wortox hadn't much experience of his own with the norms of the winter season; the snow and ice, while often delightful, was quite alien to him. He was to dwell in warm climates, lounging with shades and a cool drink that would never once pass his lips. But from what he'd heard from the mortals - even the more experienced of the bunch - the weather in this realm was extreme, even to them.
So, it was suffice to say that he'd been quite poorly equipped for the snow to roll in so swiftly and harshly.
The frigid air howled in his ears as they blew around, even threatening to topple him over with its strength, despite his large stature. The snow around him was so thick, he could hardly even see; creating a fog of its own.
But squinting past the blizzard, he could make out a silhouette in the distance. Small, human-like, but only an imitation of such.
He was cold, he was hungry, and he was tired. Well, that last part wasn't abnormal, and he certainly can't feel much of his exhaustion through the icy chill that pierced through his light, fluffy coat and settled into his bones.
Yet, despite all this... Seeing the figure in the distance, so very little, their height challenged by the winter's cold embrace... Well, it was just silly, was it not? It was absurd. The way the warmth spilling from the cracks of their shell visualized in the air, as though they had been angered so that steam blew from their figurative ears. It was a comical display.
As he trudged forward, the frost numbed him so, yet Wortox still finds a warmth in his chest that wriggles its way up his throat, laughter ringing out through chattering teeth.
His pace quickens, and he reaches out with trembling paws, reaching and grasping to envelop himself in the little tin can's radiating warmth.
He'd long since lost things like better judgement.
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