[He strides to the inn, as well, caring not for the dusting of snow that falls from the sky in the same manner — it settles on his blond hair, on the plates of his deep purple armor, on the scales of the small dragon familiar of azure hue, having draped itself across Kain’s shoulders for a nap. It shimmers and melts into a glossy sheen, but his focus is ever steady and fixed forward, caring only for reaching the indoors.

But he gives pause when the woman he passes speaks, and for a moment he cannot be sure whether she speaks to him or to no one in particular — if he would be able to get away with saying nothing in return, or if a reply is expected, warranted.

His glance lays upon the sabertooth tiger nearby, and Kain frowns. Eventually, though, he speaks.]

Enjoy the novelty of snowfall while it is fresh. Experience this weather in excess, and it will soon lose all its wonder.