promise.

[Mantra Dhvani]

Private for Phasma.

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It was late evening and the snow had been coming down for three straight hours now, its precipitation increasing steadily with each passing minute. Now it had grown to such a rate that one could only see a veil of white clusters and hazy fog no matter which way he or she turned. Mantra had always been astounded by the soft thrum of silence that accompanied a blizzard during the perilous days of winter. Everything was oddly quiet, almost frighteningly so. It was as if the snow muted all sounds so that they barely even existed. This was one of the many reasons why she loved winter dearly. She greatly preferred her alone time next to anything else and, while social interaction wasn't looked down upon, Mantra always felt that her individual thoughts were more intriguing than actual conversation. Silence was also much better for inward prayer and reflection, two things she frequently made sure never to forget doing throughout the day. While such seclusion did get a bit lonely at times, she much preferred it to vocally voicing ideas.

Although she had her views and points of argument, Mantra had never been a fan of debating. It frustrated her to no end when others failed to grasp what she was trying to say, purposefully swatting away any valid ideas she may have had. Plenty of times, specifically on her travels, others had failed to understand her obsession with devotion. They had, at times, even ridiculed her for being so radical and "queer". Mantra would try to explain the importance of meditation and connection, but none would have any part of it. That, she felt, was their fault alone. If they couldn't become more open minded to even go so far as to accept the ideals of another individual, the female wanted nothing to do with them. Rather than become openly agitated, Mantra would just walk away and pretend as if the whole ordeal had never happened. As many of her elders had preached before her, it was best to allow those who didn't quite understand her culture and mindset to go off on their merry way; if they failed to grasp what she preached, they didn't deserve to participate in such acts of devotion.

She lay sprawled out atop the perilous peak, surveying the stupendous storm that was occurring all around her; Mantra watched as the flakes slowly began to build up and create layers upon layers of frost until she could barely see the ground beneath her supine figure. As the rate finally began to taper off her eyelids began to become heavy, but the Timber wolf valiantly fought off sleep in fear of missing any last bit of the storm; such a finale would be a waste to miss after she'd stayed watching for so long, glued to her "seat". And so, she continued to observe.