the wicked witch of winter.
alesya was not sure how she got here, or which way she came from anymore. she was hungry and frail, and that is all she knew. she smells of seasalt and pinesap. a swath of ice and snow split the coastline, and for a moment she almost felt at home.
her roving had landed her here, where the scent of others was strong. strangers. foreign to her. solovey was isolated, and bartering had never been her strongsuit; she knew not what to do with herself.
boldly, she alerts them of her presence in a whistling call.
alesya was not sure how she got here, or which way she came from anymore. she was hungry and frail, and that is all she knew. she smells of seasalt and pinesap. a swath of ice and snow split the coastline, and for a moment she almost felt at home.
her roving had landed her here, where the scent of others was strong. strangers. foreign to her. solovey was isolated, and bartering had never been her strongsuit; she knew not what to do with herself.
boldly, she alerts them of her presence in a whistling call.
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холод - by Alesya - January 25, 2024, 06:38 PM