Consider: twosun didn't have snow. Anywhere. At all. They didn't even have a concept of it. They don't know what it is. Anyway, it's day 26 of @taznovembercelebration and im a canadian who tried to write people who've never seen snow before
Day 26: wonder
The IPRE crew is very happy that their plan worked and they've successfully hidden from the Hunger. What they didn't plan for, was how cold Faerun could get and the not-rain falling from the sky.
Read it on AO3
After they deploy the relics in what they hope to be the final cycle, the IPRE crew waits with bated breath for the Hunger. But the scouts never come. Days pass, then weeks, then months, and the sky never darkens unnaturally, revealing countless white eyes opening up to find them.
As those months pass, they find that the days shorten and the air cools. As people built for a world with two suns, this poses a bit of a problem. Sure, they spent certain cycles in colder and darker climates, but that doesn't mean they enjoyed it. One year just isn't enough time to adapt to that. So they make do. Sweaters and blankets are plentiful, and when the cold gets bad enough that the ship's heating system can't seem to break through it, they all pile up in the living room. Body heat is crucial for survival. Not to mention that Magnus is simply a furnace of a man.
He's the one who seems to be able to function the best. He has to wear a shirt (or a few), much to his chagrin, but he still gets up every morning and dutifully goes for a run.
One morning, he extracts himself from the pile of bodies on top of him, and everyone shuffles in to fill the space he left. He's barely gone for a few minutes when he comes back and excitedly says, “guys, get up! You gotta see this!”
There are some grumblings about having to leave the nice warm sleep pile to go to the cold outdoors, but they comply. When they get outside, though, the grumblings stop as they all stand in awed silence.
Davenport had landed the cloaked ship in a field just outside a nearby town. That town, the field, and everything else, is now coated in a thick layer of white… stuff. And small bits of it fall from the sky. Magnus runs out onto it, and it crunches under his feet, leaving footprints behind. He turns back to them and holds his arms out, “isn't it great?!”
“It's beautiful,” Lucretia says. The sun peeks through the soft grey clouds and it sparkles. She breathes out, “woah.”
Lup steps out into it and holds out her hand. Some of the little bits land on her hand, and stay there a moment before melting away. She crouches and scoops some up off the ground, crushing it in her hand. Some falls back to the ground and some melts away. She wipes her hand off on her pants. “It's like the cold sand from, what was it? 45?”
“42,” Lucretia says, “but I don't remember it falling from the sky. Or melting.” She holds her hand out too, and watches the bits melt. “It's water.”
“So it's raining ice,” Taako pulls his obscene amount of blankets tighter around himself, “peachy.”
“I don't think it's ice,” Barry says, “this isn't one solid piece.” He examines the bits that have collected on the sleeve of his sweater, “it's like it's crystallised.”
“Maybe I can go into town and talk to someone,” Magnus says, “they'll probably know what's up with this. Maybe we can get some better gear, because I don't know about you guys, but my shoes and socks got wet the moment I stepped out here.”
“I'll go with you,” Lucretia says, “just give me two minutes to put real clothes on.”
Not long after, they're crossing the field together.
“You weren't kidding about the wet shoes,” she says.
“I even changed my socks while you were getting dressed and put on different shoes, and my feet are still wet.”
“Well Taako promised us soup when we got back, so I think that'll keep me–” she cuts herself off with a yelp as her feet hit harder ground and fly out from under her. Magnus catches her before she cracks her head open on the cobblestone. “Now that,” she says, getting back on her feet, “is ice.”
“No kidding,” Magnus links her arm in his and they make their way (carefully) into the streets, “the last thing we want to do is lose you when we've only just begun the rest of our lives.”
She squeezes his arm. “We won't be perpetually in our early 20s anymore.”
“I'll finally be able to fully develop my frontal cortex.”
All through town, there are children playing in the cold snow, and people walking briskly down the street. Lucretia and Magnus are wearing the most layers out of anyone. Lucretia spots a café on the opposite side of the street. “Let's go in there,” she says, nodding in its direction, “the air out here is making my face hurt.”
They cross the street as quickly as they dare, and sigh with relief as the warmth of the indoors and the smell of fresh baked goods hits them. They walk up to the counter, where a young woman is placing a tray of croissants into the display.
“Awfully cold out there,” Magnus says, turning on his rustic charm.
The woman looks up at them, amused. “Newcomers?”
“You could say that.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Trust me, if you think this is cold, you haven't seen anything yet.”
Both of their faces drop. “It gets worse?” Lucretia asks.
“Oh, yeah.” She gestures to the window, “you actually can't get snow if it's too cold. That's when you get freezing rain and everything's covered in a layer of ice.”
They both just stare at her, dumbfounded. Their home plane had nothing like this. It didn't get this cold, and it certainly didn't have “snow” and rain that covered everything in ice. The young woman smiles pleasantly, “so what can I get you?”
They glance at each other. Magnus says, “directions to somewhere warmer, maybe?”
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