[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]mobile + tired, excuse any mistakes!
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You know, in retrospect, perhaps he really ought to've brought a sweater with him, 'cause he's gonna freeze his butt off at this rate. It's a genuine fear. He can't remember the last time he felt so cold — maybe he should've stayed down south — and frankly, he's not sure his body's ever going to grow accustomed to how damn freezing it is (and yet, once he warms his toes again, he'll probably come to terms with the fact that, once again, he's being melodramatic. It's probably not that cold to the average person, but when you're used to the long, sticky heat of his hometown, it's kind of hard to immediately adjust. Looks like Mama was right. Again.)
And now, he's not usually one to be unprepared, but he's caught off-guard by how different this all is. Luckily, he's usually able to convince a power or two to let him transport his belongings without actually hauling them over, and he supposes that he can always try and do so the moment he next gets a break. He figures that it won't take long for him to do what he needs to do — i.e. join (he's always been fascinated by the clans, and this one, well. He's been drawn to it for a while, mulling over it and other options, and despite the climate, he's not too deterred not disappointed by what he's so far seen) — and is more than prepared to wait, despite how much he'd rather not.
He shifts his weight, perking his ears and listening out for signs of life. Part of him wants to call out, but he doesn't know these people, and he's not sure how loud he can get in a place like this.
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