Duskfire Glacier rose gardens filled with thorns

[size=xx-small] omg i've been neglecting poor baby mae and she's already been neglected enough *clings to her* [/size]
all welcome but hoping @Scarlett will be able to pop by :p

*edit* sorry i rambled i just had my muse flowing since i hadn't played her in a while umph

Seeing her first snowflake had not been much of an acomplishment or memorable event for the young female, if anything it would go down in history as the most pathetic afternoon she'd had. Like the time she had had a beetle stuck to her nose and the time she'd gotten her legs covered in red fire ants she had thought the little cold flake that fell onto her nose was a savage bug that had returned to claim vengange on her for ever having messed with the invertebrate species.
It is needless to say Maera went complete apeshit after that though thankfully there had not been anyone around to witness -- because as usual, Maera was on her own.

Though Daddy had returned, (she had not yet been notified of her mother's late arrival) she had spent her waking hours the same way she had when they were all still gone. Like every other morning she squeezed herself out of her father's grasp and after smearing a soft kiss in his forehead she ran out the door and into the open lands of the Glacier, heading directly to the place that had acted as her refuge during those long weeks of solitude.
The Ultraconfidential Girl Club.

She arrived quickly, thank to her new spindly teenager legs she was able to run faster and reach her father's shoulder without having to stand on the tips of her toes, but also thanks to her stupid adolescent body, she was not able to squeeze in the hollow log that made up the base of the club with the same ease as when she was a little blob of fat.

After securing the perimeter and sniffing at a particularly intriguing stone, Maera slipped into the log's tight doorway, struggling to adjust her long legs in order to make room for the rest of her body. "I'm such a chub" she heaved as she squeezed her bum inside the tight space remaining in the log.

Inside were the memories of a whole childhood in the form of different objects that the girl had once plucked from the floor. Feathers, leaves, flowers and rocks laid in the further corner of the log, all neatly arranged for the girl to admire.
For some reason, Maera had begun to think that the objects she hoarded were more meaningful than the events they represented, because unlike the snowflakes, her treasures would not attack her.