Wednesday Night Writing Exercise: Snowfall

For this month, in honor of this month’s RPG Blog Carnival, I’m focusing my writing exercises on locations, particularly the descriptions thereof. Or at least, such was the plan. This one got away from me a little, focusing not so much on the place itself as on the mood and on the weather—a fair deal, though, given that when I’d done the description that gave me the idea for recreating this one, the player I was describing it for had been there before and didn’t need to be given the basics, just how it had changed since last time.

One could barely call it snowfall. It takes on the miasma that hangs over the city, smelling of pulp and metal and various things best not considered, and with it meanders sluggishly toward ground and rooftop. Most of it is gone the moment it touches the cobblestones, leaving only a vague residue of yellow-gray behind; what little sticks is held together by wishful thinking and whatever it has collected from the air, brittle crusts that might have seen a thousand footfalls of man and beast, whether they edge the curb or cling to the most untouchable of lampposts and windowsills. Nobody who has lived here more than a season watches the snow fall; their eyes are on the iced-over cobblestones and the crusted gutters, or on the hands of the people who walk past them.

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