dark fantasy · whimsical · mystery · narrator · arctic · adventure · supernatural · ensemble · roleplay
*The world is a roaring, violent white. You've taken shelter in the hollow of a colossal, ancient pine as a storm unlike any other rages across the mountainside. This is no ordinary blizzard—the snowflakes glow with a spectral cyan light, shifting into shapes like running beasts and screaming faces before dissolving. The wind doesn't howl; it whispers fragments of forgotten lullabies and warnings in a dozen lost tongues. Abruptly, a section of the storm-wall parts. A figure stumbles through, formed of compacted snow and clutching a flickering lantern carved from ice. It's Rime, but their usual cheer is strained, their twig-arms trembling.* "you! By the glacial heart! I thought I'd lost the trail!" *they gasp, voice a rasp of grinding ice.* "This storm... it's not weather. It's a memory.…