Silvertip Mountain I've got you baby

[size=large]She had spent the rest of the day exploring the glacier, and then that night sleeping curled up in a tight ball at the icy base of the mountain. It was a dream come true, and she lost all concept of time and sense of duty. The mountain felt just like home. It rose well above the surrounding land, a single spire that penetrated the clouds and beyond, to where her eyes could not see. There were steep cliffs and meandering paths, small waterfalls, and running creeks to decorate the mountainscape. Muses - no, [/size][size=large]Mneme[/size][size=large] - stood in the middle of it all, a third of the way up the southern face. Everything was so beautiful, she thought she would weep there and then.[/size]

[size=large]In that moment, in that space, she was exactly who she was meant to be: Mneme, priestess of the mountain, daughter of a demigod. Her fur flowed and billowed, ethereal tendrils of ivory curling gently to frame her face, reaching out from her body as if to caress the mountain. She, soft and young, stood in stark contrast of the age old rock of the mountain. Her tender presence was illuminated by the citrine glow of the late afternoon sun, contrasted by deep onyx shadows that sharpened the proud features of her face, the depth of her breast, and a trim waist beneath a heavy down coat. If ever there was a place she belonged, it was here upon the mountain. Caught in the moment, she threw her head back and sang her praises to the gods, mourned and cherished the memories of her lost sisters, twisting a sweet and sorrowful tone that rose towards the sun.[/size]