thirteen - no heart - Heyel's soul - Spirane
sister of warlow, dam of none
this is her in blackouts

The way the snow flakes drift down, a lazy sway from side to side, it is hypnotic. Intoxicating in its intense complexity and yet fragile simplicity. Everything about a snowflake seems an oxymoron. One moment it is the thing that, when piled together, can wreak such havoc as to kill the most unsuspecting of traveler by either cold, depth, or shadowing a hidden doom, and yet when taken for it's individual form it is fragile. The mere touch of it against heated flesh and the snowflake is no more. Dissolved into the water from which it has come from. It is amazing how life can be at once dangerous and safe all the same.

Natu stands in the woodlands with the snow drifting down betwixt the trees languidly. The hush of winter is a comfort to her. A blanket to all sorrows, past or present, that might ail the soul. She wraps it around her and for a moment she might appear a Snow Queen for certainly her pure white figure meshes well with the newborn snow that piles in the most open of places where the trees do not grow close together. A play of dark gray skies and shadowed tree trunks; perhaps some omniscient sign of life and the intricate games that are woven through each tapestry of fate.

The rich scent of pines on the needle-like tree limbs enriches the air. It too has a certain comfort about it. She has traveled from the spires of mountain peaks to the pleasure of the freelands, where she can shed the mantle of being a pack wolf if but for a moment. To collect her thoughts in the solitude of nothing. Maybe a traveler will pass by, maybe she will greet them and elicit a conversation, and maybe nothing will happen and time will cease to exist for but a few moments, but either way, she is quite happy to stand in the small space between the trees and breath in the air and survey the world around her.