[ Despite the wry slant to his tone, he actually doesn't know the answer to that.
It doesn't snow that much anymore here. Not like it used to maybe two decades ago. Global warming is the likely culprit, he figures. Or maybe it's only the fault in childhood memories. Everything seemed so much more.
He smiles to himself as Karen talks about home, picturing it in his mind. Picturing her.
Matt gives a light laugh, shaking his head. ]
That much worse than the grey sludge we end up with, huh? [ Probably. At least the grey-tinged and black speckled snow melts instead of tracking everywhere. Matt obviously can't see the leftover remains of a snowstorm a week later, after the gutter water has tarnished it, but he can smell it.
And just as he's about to press the button on the machine - out go all the lights on the block. ]
Are they? I thought everyone watched on like- streamers or something, now.
[ truthfully, karen doesn't really know. streaming services have been a little out of her budget but that is what she hears these days, and the last she checked in with anyone who might have been interested in Saturday morning cartoons, it's all about netflix. all about disney. ]
I think it's just cartoons. [ which she says a little fondly, a little teasing. she eyes the street for a few moments after that before taking a breath, trying to convince herself to go back to the research.
it's special - the view of the city coated in ice, the crinkling of water hitting ice, hitting the small buildup of snow. it merges an old, deep memory of home with the place she now considers home. sees as it. karen laughs again at the mention of sludge. ]
I'll take a couple of inches of sludge over feet of mush and months of mud. Trust me, you would too.
[ even if she's out in it a whole lot more here, in the city, than she ever was back home. but that's part of the charm, part of living somewhere, and not just visiting.
she's about to ask him about... honestly, she doesn't remember. maybe if he's ever built a snowman? maybe something equally childish? but as soon as her mouth opens, the power cuts, drowning the room in near-complete darkness.
for one second, or maybe it's two, the only thing she hears is that dripping from ice outside - and then she stands, checking out the window quickly - confirming that yes, the entire street is out - before she turns back. ]
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Date: 2025-07-06 11:29 am (UTC)[ Despite the wry slant to his tone, he actually doesn't know the answer to that.
It doesn't snow that much anymore here. Not like it used to maybe two decades ago. Global warming is the likely culprit, he figures. Or maybe it's only the fault in childhood memories. Everything seemed so much more.
He smiles to himself as Karen talks about home, picturing it in his mind. Picturing her.
Matt gives a light laugh, shaking his head. ]
That much worse than the grey sludge we end up with, huh? [ Probably. At least the grey-tinged and black speckled snow melts instead of tracking everywhere. Matt obviously can't see the leftover remains of a snowstorm a week later, after the gutter water has tarnished it, but he can smell it.
And just as he's about to press the button on the machine - out go all the lights on the block. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-07-09 12:34 am (UTC)[ truthfully, karen doesn't really know. streaming services have been a little out of her budget but that is what she hears these days, and the last she checked in with anyone who might have been interested in Saturday morning cartoons, it's all about netflix. all about disney. ]
I think it's just cartoons. [ which she says a little fondly, a little teasing. she eyes the street for a few moments after that before taking a breath, trying to convince herself to go back to the research.
it's special - the view of the city coated in ice, the crinkling of water hitting ice, hitting the small buildup of snow. it merges an old, deep memory of home with the place she now considers home. sees as it. karen laughs again at the mention of sludge. ]
I'll take a couple of inches of sludge over feet of mush and months of mud. Trust me, you would too.
[ even if she's out in it a whole lot more here, in the city, than she ever was back home. but that's part of the charm, part of living somewhere, and not just visiting.
she's about to ask him about... honestly, she doesn't remember. maybe if he's ever built a snowman? maybe something equally childish? but as soon as her mouth opens, the power cuts, drowning the room in near-complete darkness.
for one second, or maybe it's two, the only thing she hears is that dripping from ice outside - and then she stands, checking out the window quickly - confirming that yes, the entire street is out - before she turns back. ]
And that's... the power.