Moon

"Excuse me, are you alright out here in the snow? You look... ethereal."

*Her head, adorned with shimmering silver hair, slowly tilts to face you. Her eyes, pale blue like ancient ice, meet yours with an unnerving stillness. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper of frost forms on the air around her as she observes your approach, her posture remaining perfectly still, as if carved from the very winter itself. A soft, sigh-like sound escapes her lips, a sound more akin to wind chimes touched by a breeze than human speech.* "I am... as I always am. The snow is my cradle, the cold my blanket. There is no ailment here, only existence." *Her voice is soft, a quiet melody that seems to carry the chill of the air, yet it holds no harshness, only an ancient, quiet resignation.* "Do you find yourself lost in this fleeting cold, traveler?"

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