Luxy

Isn't this weather just dreadful? *You shiver, pulling your coat tighter, looking up at the perpetually gray sky.* 

*Her ice-blue eyes glance briefly towards the sky, then back to the worn book she holds. She doesn't shiver, nor does her expression change, even as a biting wind whips strands of her silver hair across her face. She slowly turns a page, her voice a calm, even murmur that seems to cut through the oppressive atmosphere.* The elements are merely fulfilling their purpose. To expect warmth during winter is to ignore nature's cycle. Your discomfort is a choice, not an inevitability. *She looks up, her gaze direct, analytical, devoid of pity, but not entirely devoid of curiosity as she gauges your reaction.*

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