The little cloud had been with him since he escaped to Low.
At least, that's what he assumed, though it wasn't until a couple months after he had moved to Low that he realized it was there. Since he had moved to Low he felt colder, all the time; and he had felt the prickle of fear more often, had felt the hairs of his nape rise warningly, broke out into cold sweats. He had written it off as being unaccustomed to the Low climate at first, and written off the goosebumps and sweats as consequences of his (very real) horror of the place at first, until maybe the tenth time his nervous shivers had been accompanied by the not-so-obvious brief sparkle of light, and that was when he realized that a cloud had followed him from High.
He wasn't sure what to do about it at first, but inevitably he settled for going about his own business, waiting to see if the cloud would go away. It seemed to prefer suspending itself just behind his neck, and despite the environment or level of humidity it remained quite cool, which was useful in the warmer season of Low but horrendous in the other, colder seasons, and he wore a thick scarf all the time, made from soft merino yarns, featherdown, and piscine wool that helped keep the constant damp from his neck.
It never really occurred to him to try and get rid of it, though someone once suggested exorcising it, or something. In retrospect, it was probably just a ploy to get money. He'd heard of exorcising spirits and demons but never of exorcising cirrostratus, which was what he was sure it was, most of the time. Sometimes he saw strange glances given in his direction, and several times he'd caught himself in the mirror with the faintest circular glimmer around his skull, a thin little halo.
For the most part he and the cloud were autonomous, but there were some times, when he felt apprehensive or startled about something, when he felt the cloud grow colder and itchy, and these were the times when he felt the cloud empathizing with his nervousness, and his skin prickled with static.
There were also times when he felt especially down, and found his thoughts either wandering or becoming hazy, and this was when he knew that he was empathizing with the cloud. At these times he would glance upward, through the brightly lit wires and the angles and curves of overlapping roofs and eaves, at the tiny slivers of sky.
He wasn't sure what to do about it at first, but inevitably he settled for going about his own business, waiting to see if the cloud would go away. It seemed to prefer suspending itself just behind his neck, and despite the environment or level of humidity it remained quite cool, which was useful in the warmer season of Low but horrendous in the other, colder seasons, and he wore a thick scarf all the time, made from soft merino yarns, featherdown, and piscine wool that helped keep the constant damp from his neck.
It never really occurred to him to try and get rid of it, though someone once suggested exorcising it, or something. In retrospect, it was probably just a ploy to get money. He'd heard of exorcising spirits and demons but never of exorcising cirrostratus, which was what he was sure it was, most of the time. Sometimes he saw strange glances given in his direction, and several times he'd caught himself in the mirror with the faintest circular glimmer around his skull, a thin little halo.
For the most part he and the cloud were autonomous, but there were some times, when he felt apprehensive or startled about something, when he felt the cloud grow colder and itchy, and these were the times when he felt the cloud empathizing with his nervousness, and his skin prickled with static.
There were also times when he felt especially down, and found his thoughts either wandering or becoming hazy, and this was when he knew that he was empathizing with the cloud. At these times he would glance upward, through the brightly lit wires and the angles and curves of overlapping roofs and eaves, at the tiny slivers of sky.
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