Snow:

Chapter 1

Snow. He could not believe it, absolutely, and if he was one to curse, Felix might even be inclined to say he couldn't fucking believe it. However, as he considered himself to be a breed apart, due to his intelligence, this word had slipped (rather, been forced) out of his vocabulary. At any rate, there was snow. In the city. Even the section of the city he happened to be residing in at the moment.

Ironic or not, the small mage hated snow, detested it, or he assumed he did anyway, since it rarely got cold enough to snow in these parts. His chilly powers notwithstanding, winter could go curl up in die in a cave far, far away for all he cared about it, the nuisance that it was.

As a rule, during the winter, Felix's normally flawless porcelain complexion (yes, he referred to it as such himself) tended to dry up, just a tad. Well, more than a tad, but with the proper care, that he would never publicly admit to giving, it could be salvaged, almost to flawlessness again. But, snow? How could he combat the frosty enemy? His nose would turn red, and, for all he knew, could certainly fall off from the extreme cold, and where would he be then? Not in Vareth's "Top Ten Most Attractive Students" list, that much he could tell you. He supposed he would have to take a more drastic route this ungodly winter, and actually buy special anti-snow cream (if such a thing existed) instead of the normal lotion he kept around this time of year.

Much to his dismay, this actually entailed leaving his cozy apartment to traipse through the snow, which must be, he was sure, a foot high by now at least (a bit of exaggeration never hurt anyone). Again, something that would just wreak undeniable havoc on his features, but if he wanted to get out and ever go to the Institute again, he supposed a small sacrifice could be made.

Refusing to take a look at his mirror, for it would show him something he didn't want to see: his morning hair, he made a beeline straight for his dresser, with the intent of negotiating some sort of deal with his hair. Picking up his brush gingerly, he attempted to transform his hair into something respectable-looking, which, had he been looking in the mirror, might have seemed a daunting task. With the comfort of ignorance, he kept up with the war against his hair, pulling one section into order, than another, before he felt it would be possible to face himself in the mirror.

"It is not a joke; if you don't settle down I will cut you all off…" he warned, taking the brush out of his (now mildly) tangled mess of hair and waved it around menacingly with an exaggerated scowl scrunching up his features. Yes, indeed, he was having a shouting match with his, er, unruly, rebellious hair, though I'm sure this could be chalked up to the weather, as could most things today. After a few more tries, he returned the brush to its home on his dresser with a careless toss

Governed by a timidity that comes only from uncertainty about his appearance, he inched over to the mirror, tacked up seemingly half-heartedly (a little too carelessly, someone might be inclined to say) to the back of his door. Straightening up, he nodded slowly, finding the boy staring back at him was not only suitable, but particularly handsome for someone who thought they had just come out on the losing side of a hair-styling battle. His charming grin slid into place, the one that any professor at Vareth would be familiar with, and he sauntered over to the dresser, to give its other inhabitants a look.

"White, white, white… I would really like another color… especially with this, this… snow…" Continuing to grumble under his breath, Felix rummaged around in the hope that he had a robe in some color, any other color. Once he reached the bottom of the last drawer, he saw a small piece of green cloth peeking out, bringing a satisfied grin to the boy's face.

Felix's glee and self-satisfaction came too early, since after he yanked out the robe, it revealed its true shade, which was a particularly vibrant color, rather more like lime green than any, well, anything should be. Blinking a few times, and cocking his head to the side, he turned around, laid the robe on his bed, and backed up slowly to inspect the strange article from afar. "Green… I don't know…" The very fact that he was considering it demonstrated his disturbed state of mind. "It's not white…"

Apparently, that convinced him and he snatched up the robe, then dashed to the dresser yet again to pull out the rest of his outfit, white as usual. "Changes are good, very healthy, I hear." Still talking to himself and sounded crazier every second he pulled on his layers, finishing it off with his headband: he had tried to go without it once, but his hair just wouldn't stay out of his eyes. With a quick tease of his bangs, Felix winked at himself while passing his door on the way to the chair placed in the corner of the room, which contained his shoulder bag.

About to dash out the door, he stopped short and ran back to grab his scarf (grey, surprisingly), allowing the barest hint of a smile to cross his face while winding it around his neck. Once this was finished to his standards, he pulled on the coziest shoes he could find, and dashed straight out the door, hoping that perhaps a running start into the freezing weather might help.

Much to Felix's consternation, the running start didn't help and if it did do anything at all, it would be to make his chest feel even tighter and more uncomfortable than usual in this season. Mentally cursing (yes, for shame), he kept walking, even though, sadly, it seemed his pharmaceutical destination had him traveling against the wind, making this trip all the more exciting, to put it diplomatically. Just as he was working himself into an internal frenzy, the small mage saw someone that made his plight seem, well, pathetic, to be honest and, in the reprehensible way of most people, he felt a smidgen, just a smidgen, better about himself.

As he neared, that tell-tale mop of red hair became visible and he was struck by the sudden, not uncommon urge to run off in the opposite direction. Lucky for him, common sense ruled and he kept on his path, since if he did dash away, that would put him even further from his destination. So, with only the mildest gritting of teeth, he greeted her "Oh. Hello, Marietta," and he only managed this veneer of friendliness because he felt some iota of sympathy for the girl, buried, amazingly, waist-deep in the snow. He could only assume that she had somehow managed to fall into the snow and get her legs submerged (how this happened was a complete mystery). After she gave him a mournful look and a dispirited "Hello", he decided that he might as well lend a hand; it would perpetuate his reputation as a gentleman, after all.

With a bit too much glee, she grasped his hand and promptly began to use him for leverage, tugging relentlessly at his hand. Now, Felix had always fancied himself to be one of those deceptively pretty types who contained a secret strength, wiry tough muscles behind his soft features, but with this pitiable creature trying to pull his very arm off, he felt inclined to leave his belief untested and snatch his abused limb away. By the time he had finished this line of reasoning (or internal argument) Marietta had managed to claw her way up Felix's arm and out of the snow, letting go of his arm with a slight pout.

"Thanks. It would have been a pain to get out of there myself," she said, still looking a little pouty, and dusted herself off, hardly raising an eyebrow at the other's uncharacteristic attire. "You kn-"

Felix, knowing better than to be too polite, cut her off with a casual smile and the slightest of hair flips. "Well, I have to run down to the pharmacy. Getting a bit chilly and I just can't afford to get sick. I'm sure you understand, being a Vareth student and whatnot." Okay, so it was a lie, but as long as she didn't figure that out no harm done and he looked polite and studious, which is hard to beat.

"Oh! Really? The clinic near Olacion or… the one near Vancoor?" she asked with an unseemly amount of interest, as she straightened her hair, which appeared to have taken the fall hard, a fair amount harder than the rest of her.

"Ah, well, I'm not sure yet." Apparently, she was one of the few people who could play and win 'Stump the Felix'.

"Well, either way, you'll be passing Olacion, I'm sure. I was sent on an errand before class to deliver something there…" She sighed, shrugged and looked down at the paper bag in her hand, which Felix hadn't noticed before.

"Oh, is that so?" He fidgeted, as a feeling of foreboding passed over him, completely unable to summon up that part of himself that could break away from this girl's stranglehold.

"Yeah, but… I kept falling, so I'm pretty late; I really hate this weather, y'know. But, um, could you take this for me, pleeeease?"

"Ah, um… I, well…" Stumped again! Twice in as many minutes.

"Oh, you really are a doll! It's so simple: just give it to Kain, no problem at all!" Within ten seconds, Felix had a mystery paper bag flung at his head and clumsy Marietta had managed to hightail it around the corner, without so much as a stumble, on top of which, she added a parting comment "I love your new style!"

"What a…" Well, Felix wasn't sure what she should be called exactly, but he knew she was cleverer than he had thought before. He stared at the crumpled bag that he had only just managed to catch and considered his quest. Olacion. He would be the first to say he knew next to nothing about the guild and didn't really care to find out: it all seemed to be a bit shady. However, he would not care to admit his fascination with the Shrine. In fact, when he did head into another section of town, he always tried to walk by Olacion, just to admire the stonework. Actually, he enjoyed their outfits as well: the idea of an ordained fashion just seemed so quaint and the robes so old-fashioned (nothing like his, which were certainly the epitome of good taste). Unfortunately, his hidden obsession would cause him no small amount of embarrassment if others knew; after all, it was the most stagnate body of "learning" in all of Radiata, the way it clung to old views of society, even worse than Vancoor and their sword-fighting fixation. At any rate, he tried to make the best of it by telling himself that now he had a guilt-free trip to the inside of that formidable stone building.

Though, letting his Vareth-encouraged curiosity peek out, he had to wonder who exactly this Kain person was.

-To Be Continued-

Notes?

So, I couldn't help it anymore: I had to finally give in and finish a chapter of a Radiata fanfic. Ridiculous, I know, but here's the beginning of something I can finish, hopefully. For which I blame nil desperandum.

This probably won't be updated for a week or so, because I'm thinking of writing a Christmas-themed one-shot.

Revieeews, please! I do love constructive criticism.