Ivan struggled to walk through the fierce winds, snow and ice hitting his face like bullets that stung. His face was burningly numb, nose, cheeks, and ears are a bright red. He could hardly see his hand in front of him. His car had broken down, and this blizzard had picked up from nowhere, snow falling softly and innocently at first, then a monster of a storm had been born. You'd think a Russian would know this sort of change already, but Ivan never payed attention to these things. He had a blood-stained, or, that's what it looked like, water pipe to help him keep still during the blizzard. He couldn't feel the bits of rust on it, complete numbness in his fingers as well. This certain Russian had only one thing on his mind though, and that was the one he was fighting through this storm for. Dark brown hair past his shoulders, and who wore shirts with much too big of sleeves for him. His lips curled into a small smile as he thought of how he would occasionally take his sweaters, all cozy and curled up with a cup of warmed tea, thinking of how he'd be with him soon enough, if he could only get through this blizzard alive.
"I-I keep my promises...Моя любовь," he swore to himself. The Russian had always enjoyed speaking in his own language., rather than the english he could hardly speak fluently. He glanced up, trying to get away from his thoughts. 'A... A cave! This must be some kind of miracle..' His eyes lit up with joy, as he moved faster toward it, staggering faster. Once his boots had met the cold stone, he collapsed onto it, resting his head on the curved wall. He panted with exertion, warm breath condensing into small clouds of whiteness, disappearing into nothing. He snuggled deeper into the soft, almost ballet slipper pink scarf comfortably. He shook lightly, obviously freezing. He seemed to curl into a ball, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees, rubbing his hands together quickly, stopping to pull his scarf up more.
