The air swam and shimmered as Bacchus made his way through the snowy streets, unwilling to acknowledge the depth of his gratitude for the blanket of white that covered the ground. Unwilling to acknowledge the entirely alien normalcy of snowfall. It was a ******** joke. All of it was a stupid ******** godsdamned joke and the godsdamned cold he cherished still sent a violent throbbing through his arm and hand. ******** insulting that he had to choose from relief from that choking heat or something like relief from the constant reminder of his own failures. Not that anything really could. Sometimes it got close. Or it had gotten close before he visited that fungal mass grave. He’d known better. On some level he’d known that another dead world would be a waste of his ******** time. He suspected that the owners of the local liquor stores would have preferred that he stayed home. Oh well, they could part with some of their inventory. They didn’t need all of it. With a huff he scattered a glowing spray of snow ahead of him. <******** Dagon. The planet and the senshi. Alright. Probably not the senshi. Even though she dragged him into that pit with its midden heap monsters. That ******** thing that dragged him into his own mind. He took another deep swig from the bottle in his hand, hoping it could chase away the ******** ghosts for another ******** minute.

No, definitely not the senshi. The planet. The <********> planet. For getting sick. For eating itself. For showing him that it could be…not sick. ******** that. There was no room for that on Bacchus. The planet. Not the senshi. It was too sick. Too dead. The cracking crumbling remains of something that used to matter. <******** that.

He ran his hands through his hair, barely aware of the glittering snow landing on his pale grey skin. It was hardly unusual for things to look a bit abnormal this late at night. He’d been out for a while and still hadn’t found anyone of any particular interest. A few dance partners, none who would give him the attention he wanted.

Ugh. ******** sparkle bullshit. With an irritable grunt he brushed it aggressively off of his arm.

“s**t!” Small streaks of blood appeared where he’d scraped the…who knows what to call it…off of his skin. His efforts proved useless as countless other snowflakes assaulted every exposed inch of his body, itching and burning as his body heat banished them.

What is wrong with this planet? Even the snow acted up? He’d only encountered anything similar once, near one of the volcanoes at the edges of the city. Not snow but rain. Falling in itching burning drops. Not like this though. Never drawing blood. The rash wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but <********> this.

“Godsdammit.”

A scowl crossed his face, hurrying forward with a hiss as he allowed his glamour to melt away his true self. The night wasn’t over, maybe he could find something interesting yet.