It had been a haze of sorts, starting in some sort of damp cold and moving on to something warmer. It was confusing, dream like, but when Phasma opened her eyes she knew. Just knew. It was like walking on absolutely nothing, really. No weight, no sense of really existing. Why was she still there though? The question was easily answered once she realized where she was. Piles and piles of white snow decorated the North, leaving but a small portion of the river clear. It was there by the river that she sat, gazing across the lands. It was Storm. It was apparent that they couldn't see her, the small creatures that moved past without a worry in the world, and the ears of the phantom-like figure folded back in sadness. It was unfortunate really, how was she supposed to make things right if not a soul in the world knew she was there? The once proud woman leaned over slowly, peering down into the water and broken ice, only to find that nothing looked back at her. No breath moved in puffs through the air, no sounds as she moved, and so she just sat. Sat and waited and wondered if she'd just sit forever. |
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