Double Drabble: Winter Beauty
Title: Winter Beauty
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 537: Sparkling at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Winter does have its good points.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
In Ianto’s opinion, winter was the worst season. It was always cold, the days were too short and the nights too long, ice and snow were inevitable at some point, further complicating an already dangerous job… He honestly couldn’t find anything positive to say about winter.
Except on mornings like this.
The sky was a pale and brittle ice blue, the air was chill but sharp and fresh, and everything was sparkling in the light of the rising sun.
Hoarfrost edged every leaf, twig, and blade of grass. It turned street signs, iron railings, parked cars, and scraps of litter into works of art. It bloomed as frost flowers, ferny tendrils creeping across windows, and turned spider webs into the most delicate filigree lace imaginable.
Ianto’s breath hung in the air like steam as he picked his way carefully along the slippery pavement. He was supposed to be looking for whatever the Rift had seen fit to bring them this time, but he kept getting distracted, snapping photos on his phone; a perfect cobweb stretched between twigs on a leafless bush, a fern that appeared crusted with crushed diamonds, bare branches etched against the sky…
Maybe winter wasn’t all bad.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 537: Sparkling at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Winter does have its good points.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
In Ianto’s opinion, winter was the worst season. It was always cold, the days were too short and the nights too long, ice and snow were inevitable at some point, further complicating an already dangerous job… He honestly couldn’t find anything positive to say about winter.
Except on mornings like this.
The sky was a pale and brittle ice blue, the air was chill but sharp and fresh, and everything was sparkling in the light of the rising sun.
Hoarfrost edged every leaf, twig, and blade of grass. It turned street signs, iron railings, parked cars, and scraps of litter into works of art. It bloomed as frost flowers, ferny tendrils creeping across windows, and turned spider webs into the most delicate filigree lace imaginable.
Ianto’s breath hung in the air like steam as he picked his way carefully along the slippery pavement. He was supposed to be looking for whatever the Rift had seen fit to bring them this time, but he kept getting distracted, snapping photos on his phone; a perfect cobweb stretched between twigs on a leafless bush, a fern that appeared crusted with crushed diamonds, bare branches etched against the sky…
Maybe winter wasn’t all bad.
The End