come to decide that the things that I tried

[regenerated]

It was the second year in a row that Claire found herself up to her knees in snow for the month of December, and Claire still wasn't sure how well she liked the change of environment. Snow had been a once every other year luxury back when she'd lived in Texas, the chill only obtainable when the family was willing to fly for a few hours until they landed in the powdered peaks of Whistler. In such limited amounts, it had been a beloved treat. But as it was now, occasionally melting when the days grew unseasonably warm, and almost always tainted a dreary shade of gray by the poor air that she could practically feel polluting her lungs, snow was far from fun. Far from enjoyable. And so that morning, Claire had done her best to ignore Mr. Muggles' many yips and scratches against her apartment door, before finally giving in with a groan and reaching for the clothes she'd piled on a chair pushed close to her bed.

As far as she could tell, judging by the many pepole who had approached her asking for her services, the clothes that had waited for Claire in her dresser were those of a chimney sweep. Having done her best to beat the cloth clean, Claire found that the outfit left a lot more room for movement than most of the dresses and corsets she watched people wear around her, very few women braving the outdoors as the snow fell from the sky. Armed with heavy boots, Claire stomped down the stairs of her building, giving the strangers about a wary look, before pushing the heavy door out into the street. Mr. Muggles, with a yip, immediately tore out into the cold, his small paws slipping on the slick surface of the path.

"Happy now?" she asked the dog, raising her brow as Mr. Muggles fell into the cold, slushy puddle, fur shrinking at once in size.

Comments

[lonewolflives]

Arya thought about it for a long moment.

"There's nothing for me back there," she said, eventually, shaking her head. "They burned it. Braavos was nice, but... I don't know if I was meant to be there, either. And it's nice, here, except for-"

She trailed off, and cut down the first side alley she saw. "Let's see what's down here."

[regenerated]

The words hit Claire with a fair amount of force, her chest aching at the thought of one's home being burned or razed to the ground. (How could they, she wondered? How could war be so consuming and relentless and merciless, all of those things at once and more? It was hard to understand, impossible to imagine until one found themselves in the thick of it.) But before she had the chance to comment, Arya's words cut off as she ducked into the alley, Claire blinking for a couple of seconds before she rushed to catch up. There was a comforting familiarity to it, in all honesty. If Arya ever did decide to stay in a single place for long, Claire might have found herself more worried than to know she was wandering everywhere the island would let her, testing her limits.

"Whoa, okay," Claire replied, pressing her lips together as she reached her hand for the brick wall to steady herself, driving her heels hastily to the ground. Mr. Muggles squirmed in her hold, but let out a yawn soon enough, and Claire pulled him closer so as not to let the dog freeze in the cold. "See anything good?"