Syoran's turn! And nope, I don't live in Antarctica. xD Please R&R!!!! I need some inspiration today ..... (or the next)
As soon as he opened his eyes the cold was upon him.
Seeping throught the stiches in his clothing and crawling up the sleeves of his coat.
The frigid air crawled up his spine, causing him to shake uncontrollably.
His hands, balled into fists, were desperately trying to keep some of their warmth.
A breath hitched in his throat when he stumbled, drawing in air that was a million times sharper than the rocks below.
Chancing a glance over the ledge, Syoran peered down into the fog below.
Was the whole world this cold?
Where were the people?
The silence was deafening, an expression he'd never truly understood until now, when the quiet was almost unbearable.
Was the place so cold that no one dared live here?
Even the other Syoran, with no heart at all, couldn't be that cold.
It was when he paused for a moment that the dark grey of the sky parted and he caught a glimps of a castle.
It hung in mid-air, suspended by two crystaline wings that kept it an unreachable distance from the ground.
The castle would have been something out of a fairytale had it not been for the menacing aura that swamped it's otherwise sugary sweetness.
He blinked slowly- were his eyelids frozen now?- and for a moment he thought he saw the castle give him a particularly evil grin.
Which was impossible, because everyone knew castles didn't grin.
And yet Syoran was starting to think that this was the third circle of hell. So why shouldn't it be possible?