The world is wide and white and empty, and you remember (not for the first time, or the last) that you hate snow.
You never liked it to begin with. It's cold, but then again the cold doesn't touch you, not after they turned you into one of those beasts. It's wet and it sticks to your clothes, though, your hair, your bare skin, and it leaves tracks
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[another minutes while he accepts the reality that there's anything to reply to.]
[one more as he takes the comment and the reality and puts them both into context.]
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[9_9]
Or floating boots so you won't leave tracks anymore!
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I don't want anything.
[his voice is harsher than normal, probably from recent sleep. or embarrassment.]
What are you doing.
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[And then her voice finally softens a bit.]
I refuse to leave you without proper gifting. Not after everything.
[...]
It's just a dream.
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[WHAT IS A HOLIDAY OR GRATITUDE EVEN]
It is. So leave it be.
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I could get you an apple, but I don't think you'd appreciate it, and I'm not sure why people say to give teachers apples anyway.
[And so she leaves it be.]
[Even if she doesn't leave him be.]
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Those weren't out of charity. I don't need gifts.
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To show that I care.
Is it really that mysterious?
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