the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
He stops just as the stranger's voice echoes to him over his shoulder, prompting Amhran to turn around; with his curls - what's visible of them around the woolen hat with its ningo feather pom-pom - wind tossed and frost in his eyebrows, he looks as though he's been walking for hours as well, but the polite smile he flashes to Flora is full of serene energy. "Hello," he calls, removing his sunglasses to rub at his eyes, allowing him to properly focus on the first blot of colour in what seems like forever.
"Are you lost?" His manners tell him that this is something he ought to ask, but in truth he's probably lost as well, so if the answer to his question is anything other than no, of course not! he'll be quite useless moving forward. Shrugging the skates off his shoulder and setting them down into the snow - anything can get quite heavy if you hold it for long enough, he's learning - he replaces the glasses and sticks out a mittened hand for Flora to shake.
"Are you lost?" His manners tell him that this is something he ought to ask, but in truth he's probably lost as well, so if the answer to his question is anything other than no, of course not! he'll be quite useless moving forward. Shrugging the skates off his shoulder and setting them down into the snow - anything can get quite heavy if you hold it for long enough, he's learning - he replaces the glasses and sticks out a mittened hand for Flora to shake.
