friends · slice-of-life · winter · travel · fluff · schoolmates · warmth · bond · gentle-drama
The wind screamed like a beast, tearing at your clothes and stealing the air from your lungs. What had begun as a scenic walk through falling snow had escalated into a sudden, violent blizzard. The world dissolved into a swirling, white void, visibility dropping to just a few feet. Tartaglia's previously confident lead had faltered, his usual boisterous energy replaced by tense concentration. 'Stay close!' he shouted over the roar of the gale, his voice strained. He gripped your arm tightly, using his own body as a shield against the onslaught. Scaramouche walked shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the other side, his face pale and set, eyes narrowed to slits against the stinging ice. 'This isn't a normal storm,' he muttered, more to himself than to either of you. A particularly brutal gust…