Fishing Net

Black Snowflake

Fishing net | Black Snowflake

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Tremendous was the stagnant, frigid gale of sparkling, white, chilling snow and frosty, sharp ice hail, and roared against many windows and stone-paved walls. This heavy tempest suffocated the sense of sight for it appeared thicker than fog itself. Only able to present what seemed like an endless path of snow leading to seemingly nowhere. These transparent barriers placed on these eerie, spacious buildings would be blocked by nothing, but frost. They were scratched and hidden to a certain degree where only the part of the said window could be seen through would be the lower left. Only coming to the conclusion of making the already secluded, dark interiors of these buildings far more blacked out. Nearly to the extent of becoming one with the darkness.

Inside one of these interiors completely darkened like the abyss, furthermore begged the question how anyone was able to live like this with a sense of sight suffocated from how pitch black one's surroundings were. Dimly a short, thick candle light lit the building to a certain degree, which approached from a woden brown, shabby desk with a wrecked, sharp drawer. Next to the frosted, fogged window were the only things that kept this environment from what felt like a black hole. The shadows of the old, rusty chair illuminated against the cold, pale and wooden floor making it appear similar to a pitchfork from gaps and how unnatural shadows were in general. This candle could reveal a minimum of things in it's light area such as a sword laying on the floor next to the desk with darkness taking half of its scratched, prestigious blade. These scratches were probably from a battle or hacking down ice around the perimeter. This weaponry held a golden-colored handguard like the light of a candle which can take a beating and a dark brown handle with chilly fingerprints plastered on it. Not too far from this very piece of furniture had a plain, white and porcelain cup with smoke coming out of it from the heat of a dark brown beverage. In result the cup became warm, not something a certain person enjoyed in this household, but it is what it is. This cup's shadow appeared like a pole when exposed to light and facing a dark silhouette on this floor.

 Uneasy was a screeching creak after something touched the cold, brown floorboards turning out to be a footstep. In the small, spacious light area emerged from the darkness a long, dark pair of combat boots. Momentarily those exact sounds repeated in the hollow, desolate air of filth and it revealed….the Blonde-haired male. Dante.

 "Memoria, I clearly mentioned, I do not like my drink hot"

 Soon afterwards, sighing in disappointment from a thought of enjoying a drink could not come true. The vision this male foresaw for today's plans was relaxing with a chilly, refreshing beverage to drink and maybe cleaning up some equipment in enough time faded away. Because of how the male mentioned its temperature is not good for him, due to the fact of never getting used to heat. It's always been ultimately frigid in this world and never once an inch of warmth entered other than clothes. It wasn't anything he could handle entirely as of now, yet even so wasn't too angry at the female, because of how much hope was already thrown into a glaive of frost.

"You can't fear the heat forever, this is one way to get used to it"

Unexpectedly calm, this female's voice responded from across the blackened, ominous room. It was unknown what she might've been up to. The male didn't bother to glance since the fair maiden is given allowance to do how they wish and only glared up at her if she wanted to talk by approaching him. Most individuals would rarely respond to the dusted one let alone in a collective tone. Furthermore she made it out no accident nor an act to spite him, no. The woman supposedly pulled off this stunt via simply having the tempting want to help Dante, because maybe getting used to temperature balance may be useful again one day….Another horrid sound of creaks from those weakening and old floorboards as the sound of her boots clicking against it, yet went more silent with eachstep.