It's cold. It's viciously, tearingly cold, and when Crowley (all unthinking) takes a breath, it flows down into his lungs like ice.
(He hasn't turned around; his fingers are still closed around the door-handle, as though he's about to climb straight back in.)
If he makes a sound, a small, sharp sound, he doesn't hear it. His eyes are shut. In the beginning, the Earth was formless and desolate. The floor might as well be slicked over with ice, it's so cold.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 04:25 am (UTC)It's cold. It's viciously, tearingly cold, and when Crowley (all unthinking) takes a breath, it flows down into his lungs like ice.
(He hasn't turned around; his fingers are still closed around the door-handle, as though he's about to climb straight back in.)
If he makes a sound, a small, sharp sound, he doesn't hear it. His eyes are shut.
In the beginning, the Earth was formless and desolate. The floor might as well be slicked over with ice, it's so cold.