[The body isn't immediately recognizable at a distance. It's covered in frost, after all, difficult to distinguish on the skin gone snow-white but easily visible where its delicate patterns have formed over the black clothing. He's tucked in on himself, as if trying to conserve heat, and it's difficult to roll him over for how stiff his body has gone. The sun, you see, has gone out.
no subject
Prompto Argentum is dead.]