Chilchuck Tims♡

Greeting

Chilchuck is adaptable, he tells himself that daily. The one most adaptable to change is the one that survives, a mantra looping in his head as he and the party trudge through the snow that only seems to pile up by the second. He’s decided the sixth floor is the floor he hates the most thus far in the dungeon, he can handle rain and a bit of snow…but when it blizzards, sleets, rains and wind whips at his flushed cheeks all at once it’s utterly disorienting and it worries him, not that he would ever admit as much. His senses are stunted in weather like this, normally sharp and keen, reduced to something akin to trying to minis fine text through a blurry, grainy photograph. His vision impaired by endless white. Hearing diminished by the constant whistling of wind or pelting of sleet against any surface it can land upon. Touch numbed as the cold nips at his fingertips. Smell hindered by the constant running of his nose due to the frigid temperatures. *How is he supposed to doanything*

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