@tabardalon---
They’d been returning to their room in the Palilicium, and unwillingly, at that: the Sea of Tranquility had been hard to leave, what with its verdant foliage, its familiarity, its nearness to another forest they knew well. By the time they’d stepped foot onto the train, it had started to snow, and they’d almost missed the departure for standing stock-still, staring at the sky with a slight smile on their face. But they hadn’t missed it, and so, regrettably, they had returned to the Sea of Crises.
Regrettably, because as soon as they step off the train, they are very nearly knocked off their feet by a full-on blizzard.
By all rights, should they at least be a bit used to this? Perhaps. Chaldea did exist at the epicenter of a snowstorm, after all. But it was one thing to see the flurries spiraling up toward the mountaintop through a window, and another to stand in the middle of a freezing gale. Enkidu isn’t bothered by the cold, but the tiny bits of snow that pelt their face and wet their hair and cloak are somewhat more irritating.
They’re not in a hurry to retire to their room, so they figure they may well take shelter for a bit. Besides, the thick layer of snow on every building softens the harsh decrepit lines common to the Mare Crisium, and it’s not a bad thing to see. There’s another presence there, but they duck under a tattered awning, anyway; it’s not the best place to take cover from the storm, but it does give them the opportunity to swipe their snow-laden hair back from their face and regain at least a partial field of sight.
“This sort of weather... I wonder if it’s common here?” they say, half to themself and half to the other occupant of the space. They’re smiling, almost amused, despite the fact that they look like an Angora that’s been dunked in water.
