M t. Hakobe was no stranger to the cruelty of blizzards but on this day, it suffered one more brutal than most of the residents of the summit were prepared to face. No villager at the base of the mountain was to be found, for they had surrendered to the temperature and retreated to their little houses. One would occasionally peek out their window but would see little more than a white abyss slapped against the panels. Others would notice the snow sneaking in through the cracks of their rickety doors as if the snowstorm were clawing to get into in and would decidedly huddle next to the fireplace for protection. None of this dampened the mood of the villagers, however; they lived in the constant shadow of Baslisk Fang after all and were rarely joyful anyway. The only sound that remained in the settlement was the wind rushing through the mountains and echoing out whilst the only soul to be found wandering about was a lonely little figure on the town's bridge.Severely under dressed for the weather, Yseult Gans stared into the storm as it wept her hair past her shoulder and stung her skin with coldness. She had somewhere to be, but she could no further. The storm did not impede her, however; no, she had grown use to such occurrences that seemed to follow her everywhere. It was instead the beautiful sight from atop the bridge which caught her attention and forced her to admire it. Though one would not suspect it from the dull expression painted on her face, the snow brought her much comfort in contrast to the inconvenience the villagers beneath her felt. In fact, she felt the houses of the village below only served to take away from the elegant dance of the snow. She appeared perfectly calm and yet her heart raced as if she was watching an exciting opera. It had been that way ever since she had arrived at the settlement but now, Yseult wanted to see the snow in a new light. She reached her gloved hand out into the sky and held her palm out. Her heartbeat slowed down and she felt a tug inside her chest as a faint magical aura surrounded her. As she expected, the wind whipping the snow came to a halt and things were suddenly peaceful. The snow fell straight down in slow fashion as if it were a peaceful winter morning, and snowflakes began to gently accumulate within Yseult's palm. It did not surprise her that the snow apparently obeyed her selfish whim since it had done so before, but it did invoke her sense of endless curiosity. She had long pondered how she commanded such storms and the conclusion was all ways the same: the blizzard thought her a part of itself. "Would you protect me as well?" She whispered as if the snow were a living creature. Her expression changed to annoyance when she (obviously) received no answer back from the snowfall. She wanted to know more of her own power and so she resolved to test how well the snow the would submit to her. As the snow overflowed her palm and gently fell down toward the village, Yseult leaned her body forward until her body began to tilt off the bridge. "I know you'll save me... You have to." She muttered as she felt herself about to fall. She did not know if she was speaking to the snow or to herself anymore. She closed her eyes and resigned herself to what was about to happen. If the snow would not obey her and protect her from the fall, she could achieve nothing anyway. She would rather die than be powerless. |
credit to nat of adoxography and gangnam style.