(Untitled)

[creator_raven]

It is not so much a desert of sand, this time.

Mostly there is ice. And rock. And water.

If he were more mad it would almost be like home. Parts of it.

He is very hungry.

But that is not so much something he is unused to.

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[white_flowers]

In a way, it is almost homelike, for the being that she once was.

In a way.

A dusting of snow swirls upward in the middle of the barren space, shaping itself into the ghost of a figure.

[creator_raven]

Raven snorts, sharp and quiet.

The ragged tails of his coat flare in the sudden upsurge of wind.

Somewhere in the distance ice cracks loudly, echoing against the sky.

Even if that should not be possible.

[white_flowers]

"How cozy."

The soft light voice is not as musical as it once was, oh no, but it is unmistakable despite that.

She wears no white cloak now, not any more; her thin frame is shrouded in dusty gray, and her face is veiled in thin grey gauze.

Her eyes alone remain the same, and the sharpness in the bright ice blue of her glance is cold and hard.

[creator_raven]

"That, I think, is something you are for being familiar with."

There's a snap to the wind, cold and cutting.

Out on the water the waves churn a little more wildly.