It was snowing again, and for a moment, he considered what it might be like if it never stopped snowing. The world would stay white, and people would disappear under it. Part of him was disturbed that he wasn't more disturbed by that prospect, but he still found the cold and silence to be peaceful, if a bit lonely. Arkham wasn't bitter, and wasn't really one to hold grudges, but it was hard to deny that he missed having family around. A half dozen brothers and sisters from different litters and a niece and nephew, all from an infamous family that held no favor in anyone else's eyes. It was still strange for him to be looking in instead of out.
It was something that he would have to get used to, but he had the rest of his life for that too. The wind blew quickly by the window, whistling through the drafty parts of the apartment. The unit hadn't come with a fireplace, but some previous resident had built one in somehow with large stacks of stone and now a small fire burned quietly, mostly outdone by the howling air outside. Arkham sat facing the broken window with a thick throw wrapped around his thin body, toes curling in towards his body. It was a day to be spent at home, so he really wished his Rachias would come back soon from wherever she was.