There is a lot about me you don't know -Tales of Arcadia ENG

19- Warmth

TRACK 19

Keep on dreaming, don't stop breathing, fight those demons

Sell your soul, not your whole self

Oh, if they see it when you're sleeping, make them leave it

And I can't even see if there's hope there anymore, so

(Afraid- The Neighborhood)

********

'Having a Candle of Babylon would have been much more comfortable than that,' thought Nemain, swallowing hard and cursing mentally, especially as she sensed yet another gust of icy air crashing down on her, in addition to the one that was already doing the same thing almost constantly while moving. 'The deficiency of those Masters who kept their secrets and made them almost unobtainable... The deficiency of those who set fire to the scrolls with the instructions that had been created. The fucking deficiency. Dickheads, all of them.'

Donn's flying motorcycle -fortunately covered by the invisibility spell. More than once he had forgotten to enchant it, raising the odds of getting noticed so fucking much, the moron- was much more comfortable than a broomstick or a magic board. Or even a Snowboard Scrabble. Or one of those flying glass elevators. But as much as it was, it did not shelter from the cold, unfortunately.

Had there been Chimeras, she would have sheltered with the fur of one of them while riding it, but no, she no longer had them. And the effect of the warming potion she had drunk before leaving had long since worn off, so it was up to her to freeze her ass off in the middle of it all, gritting her teeth and pretending that nothing was wrong. Pretending not to feel the air scratch her from head to toe every fucking second.

The temperature in Sacha was so cold that she was partly amazed her skin hadn't turned blue yet. It was definitely all reddened -especially on her cheeks- but not blue. As much as magic did- both in the antibody department and everything else- when faced with such a situation it could do little else.

Nemain let out a frustrated little snort, leaning her head against the Wizard's back in front of her -the adrenaline that had arisen after removing the collar was gradually swarming away- tightening the fabric of his jacket with both hands. The material was heavier than her cape but not much more than that, and... it still wasn't enough to shelter them from the wind blowing from the North.

'I hate the snow,' she thought. 'I hate this shitty cold weather. What a shitty world.'

"Should we stop?" asked Donn suddenly without turning his head, causing her to barely flinch at the question.

After slipping out of her moment of shock, she replied. "We have to travel for sixteen hours," she said, almost in a whimper. In speaking, the Witch wrinkled her nose, struggling to finish the sentence without chattering her teeth despite how hard she tried, white smoke drifting from both her nostrils and mouth. "We're nowhere near halfway through."

"Yeah, we aren't, but... I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I've been on the road a lot, so getting some rest would be nice. And starting again with a little more warmth in my body wouldn't hurt," he asserted, pausing briefly. "Maybe we can find something better for you to wear."

"Shut up," blurted Nemain in an offended mutter, moving her hands from the other man's jacket practically instantly, taking them to her white cape, barely caressing it with her fingertips.

She had been stupid before. So fucking stupid. She shouldn't have thrown it and kicked it to the ground like that. She shouldn't have just done it. Not in a fit of rage, not for any reason in the world. Fuck.