free and young and we can feel none of it

the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

The seasons spin and turn, and before Amhran knows it, he's experiencing his first Leafchange in Halo. Those unfamiliar with the region might say it merely goes from cold to even colder, but the boy (well, seedling, but in the body of a grown ass man) enjoys Halo's fickle nuances, noting the way the sun has begun to set sooner, the hoarfrost coating the rooftops causing his throat to prickle with every inhale.

Still, thanks to the advances of the region and its Wardens, it remains relatively comfortable to walk about Snowcloak providing one dresses for the weather. And Amhran has learned to do just that; in a heavy coat, furlined boots and with a scarf, gloves and his hat topped with a pom-pom of ningo feathers, he crunches through the fresh snowfall towards his favourite bakery; it's still relatively early in the morning, and the world is quiet but for the merchants, hunters and messengers hurrying to their various posts and jobs.

Whether it's simple bad luck or whether Amhran has ignored the warning creaks and shifts overhead, as he passes by the side of some kind of warehouse attached to a business, the heavy drift of snow that has settled on its awning promptly slides off - and directly onto him with a muffled whumf. Immediately buried in the snow, it's a very cold and very unwelcome sensation, and it's without an ounce of grace that he tries hard - and fails - to free himself.

you look so pretty in the dark of night - but i'm getting wise in the early light

---

Oryx moved through the frozen streets of the perpetually winter-locked town, his towering frame casting long shadows under the pale, unchanging light of an overcast sky. His raven hair hung loose, curling out from under a black fabric hate that was his favorite, streaked with frost and swaying slightly with each careful step. The cold air curled around him, but it didn’t bite as much as it usually had. His dark eyes scanned the deserted streets, solemn and unhurried, the faint crunch of his boots against the snow one of the few sounds in the quiet morning hours of the town. He appeared a figure carved from the very frost itself, foreboding in size yet exuding a gentleness that softened his presence.

The stillness shattered with a sudden, loud shifting noise, followed by a sharp yelp. Oryx stopped, his breath clouding into the air around him, and turned toward the sound. From the roof of a building across the way, a heavy blanket of snow had slid free, burying a figure beneath its weight. He strode toward the heap, his long legs carrying him across the icy terrain with an urgency that belied his usual measured pace. Kneeling beside the pile, his massive hands brushed away the snow with surprising delicacy. The warmth of his touch melted the frost as he worked, revealing a young man beneath the weight. 

"Hold on," Oryx said softly, his deep voice carrying a calm reassurance. "I'll get you out of there." He lifted the snow away in careful armfuls with a quiet strength and when the man was uncovered enough, he held out a large hand for him to pull the other free. "Come now, I've got you."

---

the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

The world goes a startling white, and although Amhran has engaged in a few snowball fights in his time, he's never realised quite how heavy the stuff can be when it slides off a roof and directly onto your head. Still flailing a little to try and swipe the snow away from his face (his nose and mouth specifically), the first words he hears are understandably muffled, and its through soil soft eyes speckled with frost on the brows and lashes that he's finally ably to pinpoint his rescuer.

"Whoa-- thank you," Amhran all but splutters, grasping the offered hand in his own and fighting to haul himself out of the impromptu drift. A few other passer-bys have stopped to take a look, but upon seeing that there are no immediate injuries - and that assistance is being given already - they soon head on their way. On his feet again at last and trying to shake the snow from his hair, Amhran tugs off his hat to dust it off as well and offers his new hero a predictably sheepish smile.

"I did not expect that to happen," he says, perhaps a little obviously. "I'm glad you were here to help!" And that he is evidently equipped with snow shovelling skills. "My name is Amhran," he adds, like a child remembering his manners, sticking out a hand to shake.