Cold. [ It's rare for him to admit discomfort, but there are a few things he's only too happy to complain about. The cold is one of them. He was made for the warmth and humidity of Corvos. The bitterly cold air, dry from all the moisture in it being frozen into snow, doesn't agree with him in the slightest. Even Sharlayan was always a little too cold on all but the brightest days. This is- pretty awful, honestly.
If it were safe to move about, it might be different. The idea that the Diadem might be bitterly cold doesn't concern him, because gathering materials and driving off monsters sounds like the kind of work that will warm a body quickly. But remaining still gives the cold a chance to creep in under his skin.
He's smiling, at least. Sheepishly, because really he shouldn't be the one who needs checking up on, but he's not distressed. ]
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If it were safe to move about, it might be different. The idea that the Diadem might be bitterly cold doesn't concern him, because gathering materials and driving off monsters sounds like the kind of work that will warm a body quickly. But remaining still gives the cold a chance to creep in under his skin.
He's smiling, at least. Sheepishly, because really he shouldn't be the one who needs checking up on, but he's not distressed. ]
In no danger. But dreadfully cold.