Quote:
Getting free Hot Chocolate from that new food truck seemed like a great idea at the time, and the blue sprinkles on top was just the cutest touch!
A few hours later though, you just can’t seem to get warm. Nothing helps. Not a bath, not wrapping in ten blankets and not sitting in front of an open fire. Your skin begins to turn a pale blue starting at your fingertips, and if you were warm enough to remove your socks, you’d see your toes were doing the same thing. As the minutes wear on you begin to sneeze small bunches of snowflakes as the icy blue continues to take over your skin. Perhaps it is a good idea to just go to bed and pile on the blankets.
The cold lasts for about six hours, and the blueish tint fades after you again get warm. Maybe you should think twice the next time someone offers you something for free…
Wren had wholeheartedly accepted the free beverage at the new food truck while out Christmas shopping, the brunette eager for a treat after having to locate toddler toys, items befitting a punk of a brother, and other such items her family needed, wanted, or craved like a desperate two-bit magician. The cocoa was even nicely decorated in thick whip with blue sprinkles and she suspected it to have marshmallows. Well, it seemed delicious, it smelled delicious, and while walking home, the woman knocked back her new, free, delicious hot cocoa back like an alcoholic knocked back a beer, and hummed, crumpling the emptied cup and tossing it as she licked hers upper lip a bit before wiping the battered remains of her whipstache away, the young woman moving inside to wrap gifts in her room, only pausing once to fight off the dog her brother picked up recently, and then the puppy he'd INSISTED his baby girl needed.
Huskies.
However it wasn't until a few hours later, after wrapping, that Wren felt... Cold. Not the fun chill of standing watcdh as Eternal Elpis nor of a rainy autumn, this was a bitter, hateful cold, and she grumbled, pulling her coat on before moving to check the termostat. No, no that was working fine, and she moved through the house, trying to find heat -- curling up like an old fart by the vents, burrowing in the blankets on the soda for movie night snuggles. At one point t last, she began shivering and laid blue eyes on the single most reliable heatsource present.
Two cold hands, beginning to literally turn blue like a water bottle filling, shoved themselves under the fur of Flynn's huskey, and the dog yelped in surprise at cold, cold hands on him, jumping away and knocking Wren back with a startled yelp. Wren wiunced, pulling her hand back, and plunked down, sulking. She was cold, miserable, and not getting ANY assistance from her brother's dogs -- Pinky even fled the room when the older dog Gospel fled.
Damnit.
The brunette huffed, looking at now-blue hands, and grimaced. This was entirely unfair. She was a good person and here she was, turning into some blue-a** ********... Wait.
"Am I turning into a jotunn?" And her eyes went wide. Cold be damned, off flew the coat and her sweater to look over her skin in just a tank top with Iron Man on it. Blue was creeping up her arms slowly, moving almost like a placid, cool gel, consuming her skincolor as it moved, leaving nothing but the frosty blue. Well! If she WAS turning into a Jotunn at least she could- could--
"WACHOO!" Wren sneeze4d hard, and a small blast of snow sprayed forth like a cloud, whirling and dancing before the flakes landed, melting in the warm house, and Wren snorted as if with a cold, blinking slowly. Oh.
That wasn't like a jotunn. Well, ******** do the gods hate my hopes and dreams." Wren pouted, moving for the couch as she sneezed thrice, large billowing clouds of snow wafting into the air. This was awful and as much as her room sounded great because of the rest of the family, the bed had more blankets even if they did little to nothing, and she grumbled, nestling. ******** this, she was out, and within minutes, the woman was a sleeping bundle of blankets and sleep-sneezes of snow.
A few hours later though, you just can’t seem to get warm. Nothing helps. Not a bath, not wrapping in ten blankets and not sitting in front of an open fire. Your skin begins to turn a pale blue starting at your fingertips, and if you were warm enough to remove your socks, you’d see your toes were doing the same thing. As the minutes wear on you begin to sneeze small bunches of snowflakes as the icy blue continues to take over your skin. Perhaps it is a good idea to just go to bed and pile on the blankets.
The cold lasts for about six hours, and the blueish tint fades after you again get warm. Maybe you should think twice the next time someone offers you something for free…
Wren had wholeheartedly accepted the free beverage at the new food truck while out Christmas shopping, the brunette eager for a treat after having to locate toddler toys, items befitting a punk of a brother, and other such items her family needed, wanted, or craved like a desperate two-bit magician. The cocoa was even nicely decorated in thick whip with blue sprinkles and she suspected it to have marshmallows. Well, it seemed delicious, it smelled delicious, and while walking home, the woman knocked back her new, free, delicious hot cocoa back like an alcoholic knocked back a beer, and hummed, crumpling the emptied cup and tossing it as she licked hers upper lip a bit before wiping the battered remains of her whipstache away, the young woman moving inside to wrap gifts in her room, only pausing once to fight off the dog her brother picked up recently, and then the puppy he'd INSISTED his baby girl needed.
Huskies.
However it wasn't until a few hours later, after wrapping, that Wren felt... Cold. Not the fun chill of standing watcdh as Eternal Elpis nor of a rainy autumn, this was a bitter, hateful cold, and she grumbled, pulling her coat on before moving to check the termostat. No, no that was working fine, and she moved through the house, trying to find heat -- curling up like an old fart by the vents, burrowing in the blankets on the soda for movie night snuggles. At one point t last, she began shivering and laid blue eyes on the single most reliable heatsource present.
Two cold hands, beginning to literally turn blue like a water bottle filling, shoved themselves under the fur of Flynn's huskey, and the dog yelped in surprise at cold, cold hands on him, jumping away and knocking Wren back with a startled yelp. Wren wiunced, pulling her hand back, and plunked down, sulking. She was cold, miserable, and not getting ANY assistance from her brother's dogs -- Pinky even fled the room when the older dog Gospel fled.
Damnit.
The brunette huffed, looking at now-blue hands, and grimaced. This was entirely unfair. She was a good person and here she was, turning into some blue-a** ********... Wait.
"Am I turning into a jotunn?" And her eyes went wide. Cold be damned, off flew the coat and her sweater to look over her skin in just a tank top with Iron Man on it. Blue was creeping up her arms slowly, moving almost like a placid, cool gel, consuming her skincolor as it moved, leaving nothing but the frosty blue. Well! If she WAS turning into a Jotunn at least she could- could--
"WACHOO!" Wren sneeze4d hard, and a small blast of snow sprayed forth like a cloud, whirling and dancing before the flakes landed, melting in the warm house, and Wren snorted as if with a cold, blinking slowly. Oh.
That wasn't like a jotunn. Well, ******** do the gods hate my hopes and dreams." Wren pouted, moving for the couch as she sneezed thrice, large billowing clouds of snow wafting into the air. This was awful and as much as her room sounded great because of the rest of the family, the bed had more blankets even if they did little to nothing, and she grumbled, nestling. ******** this, she was out, and within minutes, the woman was a sleeping bundle of blankets and sleep-sneezes of snow.
