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Paranoid and Skeptic stared out the window in confusion and horror. Whatever was outside felt like the latest threat the flock had recently faced. First the weather got increasingly frigid, then it became harder to forage food… Now this.
The ground and trees outside were covered in a thick layer of white. It was almost blinding, and had definitely not been there the night before.
“What… What do you think it is?” Paranoid whispers to Skeptic.
“No idea,” Skeptic mumbles, increasingly fascinated by the way the outside seems to glitter in the bright moonlight.
“Do you think the others might know what it is?” Paranoid asks, eyes never moving away from the window.
“Maybe,” Skeptic doesn’t look at Paranoid, either, although his initial fear is giving way to curiosity. He’s not sure what’s happening outside, and he suddenly wants to know more than anything.
He turns to Paranoid, who briefly glances back at him when he moves, and says, “Let’s find out. C’mon.”
Paranoid’s eyes widen as Skeptic gets up and walks to the front door, chasing after him and saying, “Wait, wait! This whatever it is could be dangerous! We shouldn’t—”
“Then you stay nearby,” Skeptic interrupts, already reaching for the doorknob, “If something happens, then pull me back inside.”
“What—”
Skeptic throws the door open.
He stares at the way the whiteness glitters more clearly without the window to obstruct it.
Then the freezing temperature hits. Skeptic is still wearing his pajamas, and shivers as chilled air bursts into the house.
He shuts the door again, but it does little to expel the cold.
Skeptic pauses at the thought, turning to Paranoid, who seems to reach the same conclusion.
“Do you think…”
“Did Cold…?”
They turn and run upstairs. They’ve seen the way Cold can freeze things over, how hard it is to undo it. Is the fridged Voice the reason things have been becoming colder and colder as of late?
Regardless of whether or not he’s the source of the ice, it’s a new lead, and Skeptic wants to see where it goes.
Cold’s bedroom door looks normal. No damage, no frost. Paranoid knocks, but there’s no answer.
“He might still be sleeping,” Skeptic offers.
Paranoid opens the door, glances around inside. After a moment, “He’s not here.”
He closes the door before moving to the next one over. Contrarian’s room. Paranoid knocks again, more harsh and stressed. They hear a low groan, someone probably woken up.
Paranoid, only barely quiet enough to avoid waking up the entire house, says, “Open the door. We need to talk to Cold.”
Another groan, more annoyed. Some shuffling, hushed words exchanged. A long pause.
Paranoid knocks again, half-glaring at the door.
There’s a thud against the door, almost mimicking the sound of Paranoid’s knocking. Something might’ve been thrown at it, as if doing so would scare off whoever is bothering the occupants.
“Contrarian,” Skeptic says, “We need to talk to Cold about something. It’s important.”
Something else is thrown at the door.
Paranoid tries the doorknob. It’s locked, and he mutters just loud enough to be heard, “You can go back to sleep later, just open the door!”
More annoyed sounds. Some words spoken too quietly for Paranoid and Skeptic to hear. Another pause.
Yet another thing is thrown at the door.
“Stop throwing things at the door,” Paranoid whisper-yells, getting as annoyed as the ones inside the room.
A sigh, muffled behind the door. The creaking of a bed, as if someone is getting off of it. A silence. More creaking, then the sound of someone clearing their throat.
“It’s four in the morning,” Cold mumbles.
“So?” Skeptic asks, “You can sleep later, we have questions for you.”
“Ask later.”
“These are urgent questions.”
“Okay.”
A long pause. When they realize that Cold isn’t getting up, Paranoid half-growls at the closed door, “Open the door.”
A fourth thing is thrown at the door.
“Cold, stop throwing things!”
“I’m not throwing anything.”
Paranoid buries his face in his hands, growling into his palms.
Skeptic sighs, “Contrarian, stop throwing things.”
A quiet, muffled giggling. A yawn, which is caught by the other. Another pause.
Skeptic tries knocking on the door, as if he’ll have better luck than Paranoid.
Some more hushed words behind the door. More silence.
“Cold,” Skeptic starts, “Did you… freeze the outside? There’s ice everywhere.”
A huff, another pause.
“No. I didn’t ‘freeze the outside’. Now let us sleep.”
As if to emphasize that last sentence, something else is thrown at the door. Skeptic is a little surprised that there’s still anything near Contrarian for him to throw.
“Do you have any idea what might’ve happened, then?”
There’s a sound, somewhere between a growl and a long, very annoyed, groan. A pause, a sigh, the bed creaking.
Then, several things are thrown at the door in quick succession.
Paranoid and Skeptic flinch at the increasingly loud thud-thud-thud behind the door, and remain frozen in place even after it’s over.
Paranoid huffs, reaching up to knock again—
“Is everything alright?”
Skeptic and Paranoid jump at the sound of Opportunist’s voice. Sure enough, he’s half-standing outside of his own room, glancing over at the two of them. Most of his body is still behind his door, as if ready to shut it quickly if he needs to.
Skeptic and Paranoid glance at each other, before looking back at Opportunist. Paranoid clears his throat, “What are you doing up?”
Opportunist’s eyes shift, but it’s too subtle to tell what he might be thinking. “I woke up when I heard knocking earlier. What—” He pauses for a split second, probably wanting to ask what are youdoing up? but seems to change his mind mid-sentence, “—are you two looking for?”
“Answers,” Skeptic says immediately, “There’s something going on outside – we think it’s some kind of ice covering everything – so we decided to ask Cold about it, but…”
“He’s refusing to answer our questions,” Paranoid finishes.
“Really?” Opportunist says, “Well, it is rather early…” He hesitates for a moment, before going back into his room and shutting the door behind him. After a few seconds, he comes back out, wearing a robe over his pajamas. He walks out into the hallway, closing and locking his bedroom door behind him.
“Perhaps, if you were to show me, I could help.” Opportunist says, tucking his hands behind his back as he smiles at them.
Paranoid’s gaze hardens, suspicious, but Skeptic nods. Information is information after all, and pieces of the truth can be found in even the most dubious of sources.
They walk back downstairs, Skeptic leading the group while Paranoid stays in the back, carefully watching Opportunist, who attempts to ignore the scrutiny. Once they’re in front of the living room window, Skeptic gestures to Opportunist to look into it. Opportunist stares at the outside, eyes darting over the layers of white – snow? – that blanket the area.
“And you think that Cold did this?” Opportunist asks, turning to Skeptic.
“He said he didn’t, but that’s all we got out of him,” Skeptic explains.
Opportunist hums, glancing outside for a moment before looking back at Skeptic. His gaze quickly unfocuses, though, as he considers Skeptic’s words. “If you thought it was Cold that did this, then the stuff outside must be freezing. But if he didn’t do this, then something else must’ve…” He pauses for a few moments, then snaps his fingers, refocusing on Skeptic, “Broken and Hunted talked about this, didn’t they? When the leaves started changing colour and such. ‘Seasons’, I believe! This might be part of it — if things got colder on its own, then maybe the snow appeared because the outside froze itself.”
Skeptic considers that. It sounds insane enough to be true, and they’ve certainly seen weirder. Probably. Things don’t change for no reason, though…
“What might’ve caused this?” Skeptic asks, partly to the others, mostly to himself.
“Broken and Hunted might know,” Opportunist says, “We could ask them in the morning, if you’d like.”
“No,” Paranoid interrupts, “If you’re wrong, and this is a symptom of something worse, then we need to ask them now. We can’t wait until morning.”
Opportunist looks over at Paranoid, slightly tense. “It’s a little early—”
“This is more important.”
Opportunist shuts his mouth, not arguing further.
Paranoid turns and walks back upstairs, Skeptic and Opportunist following him. He skips Hunted’s room, and for good reason. The smaller Voice would not be too happy to see them up so late at night. Or early in the day.
They stop in front of Broken’s room, and Paranoid knocks on the door. There isn’t an answer, but Broken is usually a heavy sleeper. Paranoid knocks again, now half-whispering, “Broken! Broken, open the door. We need to talk to you!”
Paranoid keeps knocking until they hear a low groaning.
“What?” Broken’s voice is thick with sleep, and he yawns halfway through the word.
“We need to talk to you,” Paranoid repeats.
“… At four in the morning?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“It’s important!”
“Why are you even awake so early? Didn’t Hero—”
“Just open the door!”
There’s a pause at Paranoid’s increasingly frantic insistence, then a low, clearly annoyed sigh. The creaking of the bed, then a soft thud. A longer pause. A yawn. Quiet footsteps, then Broken opens the door.
He looks down at the trio, seeming mildly surprised at how Paranoid isn’t alone in this. He glances at Skeptic, then at Opportunist, before turning back to Paranoid.
“Well? What do you want?”
“Something’s happening outside.”
“Elaborate.”
“There’s this — ice everywhere. We don’t know what caused it.”
Broken blinks slowly at them, clearly still tired, but manages to look incredulous.
“What?”
“Just—” Paranoid gestures behind Broken, towards the latter’s bedroom window, “—See for yourself!”
Broken sighs, turning around and walking to the window. He looks outside for a few moments, then walks back to the trio.
“You woke me up… Because it snowed?”
“We don’t know what caused it—”
“Winter caused it,” Broken says, looking torn between feeling annoyed at being woken up and feeling sympathetic for Paranoid’s anxiety, “It’s normal. It got colder. It even got colder far up in the sky. The rain froze. Now it’s ice on the ground. Go to bed.”
“When will it leave?” Paranoid asks.
“When it gets warmer and the ice melts.”
“When is that?”
Broken shrugs, “It’s early in winter, so anywhere from noon to in a few weeks, maybe a month or two”
“A month or two—”
“It’s normal. It’ll warm up again eventually.”
Skeptic interrupts the rapid-fire questions with his own, asking, “Why does winter happen, then? If the ice is because of winter, what causes winter?”
Broken looks over at Skeptic, then sighs, “It’s… It’s very early. I’ll explain everything in the morning, when everyone else is awake. Go back to bed.”
With that, he closes the door.
Paranoid, Skeptic, and Opportunist glance at one another. Opportunist breaks the silence with, “Well, you heard him! We’ll just have to wait until morning—”
“We should’ve left when we had the chance.”
Opportunist and Skeptic look at Paranoid, whose arms are crossed over his body. Not entirely angry, more… afraid, protective. He stares into space, tense, half-lost in his own thoughts.
“What do you mean?” Skeptic asks, watching the way Paranoid’s shoulders drop a little at the question.
“We – Hunted and I – wanted to leave and head somewhere warmer when the weather got colder. It felt — instinctual. We told Hero about it, but he decided that we should stay. Now—” He laughs bitterly, breathless and half-manic, “—Now the rain is frozen! If something like that can freeze, what’s next? The house? The food? Us? If we’d just left—”
They all jump when Broken suddenly opens the door. He glances over them, before, “You’re not just going to go to bed, are you?”
Broken’s eyes and words are harsh, but his tone is almost gentle. He stares into Paranoid’s eyes, then Skeptic’s, then Opportunist’s. Broken sighs, softening a little.
Then, without warning, he picks up Paranoid, then Skeptic. He holds them both in his arms, and refuses to drop them despite their squirming.
“Let go—” Paranoid starts.
“No. You’re going to bed.” Broken barely glances at him, only shifting his hold to be more comfortable for Paranoid.
Broken looks at Opportunist, who seems ready to run at the first chance.
“Why are you awake?” Broken asks.
“Uh— Well, you see—”
“Who woke you up?”
“Um. Well—”
“Tell the truth.”
“It—it was nothing, really, but I greatly apologize for waking you up—"
“Paranoid and Skeptic woke you up?”
“Um… Yes, but—”
Broken doesn’t have any more free hands to grab Opportunist, so he instead gestures for Opportunist to go into his room. He hesitates, eyes darting around, so Broken says, “Come in. You’ll sleep better in here, anyway.”
Opportunist tenses, then relents, nodding as he walks into Broken’s room. Broken walks in behind him, Paranoid still struggling in his arms while Skeptic seems resigned to his fate.
He kicks the door closed, then gently sets Skeptic onto the bed. It’ll be a tight fit for four people, but it’ll do. Skeptic sits up, glancing around the room, taking in the drawings hung up on the walls and the half-finished sewing projects here and there. Broken puts Paranoid on the bed next to him, and grabs him again when he immediately attempts to run off. He sets him down on the bed again, and Paranoid stays put this time, although he’s clearly annoyed about the entire situation.
Broken grabs a few extra pillows and blankets, gesturing for Skeptic and Paranoid to lay down. Paranoid refuses wordlessly, half-glaring at Broken, but Skeptic shifts to curl up in the middle of the bed.
Broken puts a blanket down on top of Skeptic, and Paranoid’s glare softens at the sight of Skeptic relaxing. He sighs, then lays down next to him. Skeptic moves closer to him, pressing half of his face into Paranoid’s chest, then promptly passes out.
Paranoid throws an arm over Skeptic, and Broken adjusts the blanket to cover them both.
As they start to relax, Broken turns to Opportunist, who stands almost awkwardly with his hands behind his back, glancing around the room as if searching for potential exits.
Broken looks at him for a moment, before, “Are you… going to take your robe off, at least?”
Opportunist’s shoulders tense in a way that could be read as a shrug, but his tone is half-clipped as he says, “I’d rather not.”
Broken hums, gesturing to a spot on the bed behind Skeptic. Opportunist lays down, hesitant, tense, not touching any of them. Over Skeptic’s head, Paranoid watches Opportunist closely while the latter attempts to avoid eye contact. Broken settles in behind Paranoid, covering them with a blanket. After a moment, he stretches his wings before draping one over all of them, pulling each of them closer.
There’s an almost awkward silence as they lay in Broken’s bed, pressed against each other. Paranoid’s suspicious stare doesn’t waver, and Opportunist attempts to give him a reassuring smile. It comes out strained and uncomfortable.
Just then, in the middle of them all, Skeptic starts snoring. It’s the type of sound that would wake the dead just so they could put earplugs into their empty skulls.
Opportunist glances down at Skeptic, half-bewildered that he can make such a sound, and Paranoid can’t suppress his snort at the sight of Opportunist’s clear surprise.
Opportunist looks back at Paranoid, his feathers puffing up just enough to be slightly noticeable. Paranoid huffs as they make eye contact, but the sound is just on the edge of fond. He yawns, and Opportunist and Broken yawn with him.
Broken hums softly, pressing his face into the back of Paranoid’s neck. “Good night,” he mumbles.
“Night,” Paranoid and Opportunist echo.