vanilla with whipped cream and freesh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Snowfall
Rating: PG
Challenge: Vanilla #25: changing seasons
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 800
Summary: On the streets of London, snow is something to be very afraid of.
Notes: Fresh peaches, this part of the horoscope especially: “Hibernation is a winter activity that most animals can benefit from, and humans are no exception.”
Isaac woke up because he felt strangely warm. Hot, in fact. Very hot. His innards were so warm it was like the inside of his skin itched, and a painful prickling was beginning all over his body. For a moment he couldn’t open his eyes. He felt heavy and tired and as though he was made of stone. However, he eventually managed to tear his eyes open.
What he saw made him start.
The black sky was dropping snow upon London; thick, fast snow with flakes clumped together into tumbling papery diamonds. He was already at the centre of a small snowdrift and Charlie, next to him in the doorway to a museum, was half buried. Isaac tried to sit up but his arms stopped obeying him, his skin utterly numbed, hair filled with white clumps of snow.
“Shite!” he swore-or tried to swear. His lips felt like strips of rubber and all he managed was a vague shushing sound. Sharp needles of cold wormed their way to his mind, first from the direction of his fingers, then his feet, than his whole body.
It was snowing, and only in November too. Surely November was too early for snow?
The streets already had a dusting over it, with only sparse glimpses of the cobbles left open to the air. The silent, picturesque murderer that was snow lined the window-frames of houses and the rooftops, the coating becoming thicker with every moment. When Isaac looked up, all he could see was whitish flakes tumbling forever.
Clawing himself up at last, Isaac grasped Charlie’s shoulders with fingers like rods of cold metal and shook him. It didn’t take him long to realise that Charlie was shivering so hard that it was closer to convulsing: his lips were purple and his skin gleaming with tiny icicles in the pores, making him look like some fantastical prince of the winter. His hair and lashes were clumped with the glittering white. His skin felt cold as marble.
Isaac practically wrenched Charlie’s arm off and then proceeded to slap him around the face with the back of his hand, frozen knuckles hardly feeling the impact.
“Charlie! Charlie!”
He seemed to have regained control of his mouth. His body went from hot on the inside and numb on the outside to being frozen through and through. Isaac staggered to his feet, looking around the broad street-snow-covered lumps showed him where more unfortunate street urchins were buried. Snow killed. Every winter, every year, it killed hundreds and thousands of people on the streets.
A few kicks in the stomach did it. Charlie groaned and his eyes half-opened, glittering eyelashes pulling apart with a sprinkling of smaller snowflakes. He was shivering and shaking and he curled into a ball. Charlie was a lot scrawnier than Isaac was. Most people on the streets were.
Grabbing him by the shoulders, muscles in his fingers tingling and twinging with pain, Isaac managed to raise Charlie to his feet. Although regaining consciousness, Charlie looked in a bad way. He shook and groaned again, stammering illegibly.
Isaac had no idea what he was trying to say and neither did he care. Grabbing Charlie by the collar, he began to lead the two of them down the street, the first to leave footprints in the thickening snow. Flakes landed on their heads and arms and the backs of their necks. Charlie was dragging his feet, leaving trenches in the puffy snow, skin white and shining.
“Come on, you pain the bloody arse!” Isaac managed to shamble out around a set of violently chattering teeth. Yanking Charlie by the upper arm, he dragged him towards the nearest lit window, snow already piling against the door. The two teenagers barrelled through the door and tripped, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. A sharp breeze caused the door to bang shut behind them and everyone within the tavern turned to stare at them.
The barman seemed wary and, hands on his sizeable belly, began making his way around the side of the bar.
“Can I help ‘ee?” he asked. It took Isaac a moment to find his ability to speak: the slight warmth of the atmosphere inside of the tavern against his cold skin felt like a raging fire. Flinching, Isaac scrabbled on the floor a moment and managed to raise himself to his knees.
“S-snowin’,” he managed to stammer. “We just...”
“Isaac!” the barman said, recognising the pale boy at last. He leaned against the wall and turned to face his companion. “An’ Charlie? Is ‘e all right?”
“He will be,” Isaac said with more determination than hope, grabbing Charlie by the back of his collar and leading him towards the fire.
“Gerroff,” Charlie finally growled through blue lips, shoving him away. “M’fine.”