cold creatures

i. ice

"THERE IS A WILDER SOLITUDE IN WINTER
WHEN EVERY SENSE IS PRICKED ALIVE AND KEEN...
[I] FEEL THE SILENCE GATHER LIKE A STORM."

- MAY SARTON, FROM "THE HOUSE IN WINTER," IN A PRIVATE MYTHOLOGY

Someone had once said something about not visiting Russia during winter. Perhaps it was due to the bitter temperatures, the sort that seemed to sink icy teeth into your skin and burrow deep into your bones. Maybe it was because of the snow, settling so stubbornly on the ground that every time the idea of going outside sparked inside your head, it was swiftly extinguished by the thought of having to wear an ungodly number of layers. Or maybe, just maybe, despite all your complaining, it was because you would end up falling in love with the cold.

The hotel room is quiet; a sense of peaceful tranquillity mixed with a near maddening sense of being trapped has fallen upon it. You sigh, a steaming mug of warm cocoa clasped in your palms, lounging lazily upon the fresh white sheets of your bed. The smell of chocolate and the unmistakable scent of hotel - clean, part chemical, part fibrous - leave you feeling content, caught in a daydream as a flurry of flakes dance past the window. Your gaze follows one snowflake in particular, watching it twirl on its spiralling descent downwards. Without intention, you find your line of sight drawn to a figure in the adjacent park below. Alone, they seem to glide through the white with ethereal grace. A glint of light from below their feet draws attention to the skates they wear, the scene piecing together slowly as if watching whilst half asleep.

Time drifts by without note as you watch the ice skater carve shapes across the ice-covered pond and before you know it, your cocoa has grown cold. With a furrow of your brow and an unspoken pep-talk to inspire determination, you pull on a coat and boots and hat and gloves, disregarding your scarf for the sake of not looking overly tourist-like and incapable of coping with the native weather.

Your breath mists as soon as you step outside, ignoring the shivering couple checking in at reception who advise staying indoors. Every step is punctuated with a crisp crunching sound as you cross the road, overly aware of how eerie cities seem when there is so little traffic. You pass through an ornate iron gateway, following a winding path through the park that leads you to the pond. The skater is still there, still spinning. They move with the grace of a ballerina, almost entirely one with the ice and snow.

There is far more intensity watching them so close-up, you soon realise. Each time the skate strikes the frozen pond, it creates a sharp sound that reverberates through the air. You stand still in silent appreciation, hands shoved into the depths of your pockets. It isn't until the skater's head turns piercingly in your direction that you realise you may have intruded. A darkly clad stranger observing without introduction or invitation may not have been quite what they wanted, and indeed you assume this to be the case as a few unknown words are shot in your direction.

You offer a tight-lipped smile, incapable of responding in their mother tongue so choosing to move on, barely taking a few short strides before the figure skater has cleared the distance of iced pond between you. "кто ты?" they ask, but your expression must provide them with an adequate answer, for they then pose the question again in English. "Who are you?"

"[Y/N]," you reply, studying the skater from beneath the knitted edge of your hat. Now that you can see them properly, you realise it's a young man. He's athletic and lean, chest caught in a steady rise and fall as his breathing returns to normal. The exercise has brought colour into his cheeks, droplets of melted snow caught on long eyelashes. There is no denying it, he's beautiful.

Your observation is picked up on and his expression turns to a slight scowl, seemingly uncomfortable with the weight of your gaze. "Have you been sent here to spy on me? Are the others really that afraid of losing that they want to steal my ideas for their programs?"